I Dwell in Possibility

Mid-day on December 23. Berry Ranch. Sunrise from the Empire Builder, heading east somewhere in MN (8:46 EST)   Sunrise from the Empire Builder, heading east...35 minutes later (9:20 EST) Sunrise from the Empire Builder, heading east....10 minutes later (9:33 EST) Looking out the back of the train Crossing the Mississippi River somewhere west of Minneapolis Steam from a factory west of Minneapolis

After our arrival on the 19th, it was dark by the time we reached our hotel in Syndey, MT, a small town graced by a few new stoplights since my last visit in 2007 (and a new grocery store or two as well). One of the best things about Sydney is Sunny's Restaurant, a charming and excellent breakfast/lunch place on one of the main corners in town. We ate there four times during our stay -- one day when my hubby was feeling crappy, they graciously served him oatmeal for lunch, while I chowed down on the absolute best hot roast beef sandwich I've ever had...with a side of real mashed potatoes. They are only open until 2 or 3, so you gotta get there early. Every waitress we had was pleasant and friendly, and the food was delicious. They were always hopping too. Steam rising from the sugar beet processing factory in Sydney, MT One of the side-effects of the Bakken boom is that many local businesses keep more limited hours and find it difficult to keep help. If you can go out a...

Written mid-day Thursday, December 19 Remember when I said it was cold a day or so ago. I was so wrong. Now, it's cold. When hubby talked to his cousin, who was out on the tractor feeding the cows, it was -3. Yup. Negative numbers. When math started to get complicated... Where does ice cream come from? All those cold cows huddled in the blowing snow out in the middle of the field. Sunrise We passed through Rugby, ND, the geographical center of North America. Cool, huh? Trees against the hillside There is a really stark and terrible beauty to these landscapes. The gently rolling hills, dotted with trees, stubble from crops and dried long grasses poking through the snow. Spare wire fences mark boundary lines for property whose residences may be miles, or at least acres away. Can you imagine the terror and anticipation of those first settlers coming across the prairies in their wagons, oxen trundling along, not knowing what to expect? So, if you look close...

Written on Wednesday, December 18 Day three began early (again) with another mostly sleepless night. I watched Pittsburgh roll past, lightly snowing as the lights twinkled. Then I dozed for a bit and woke up as Cleveland's red-lit skyline passed. The next time I came to consciousness, the sun was rising and we were a couple of hours away from Chicago. We arrived late, but that was no big deal, just less time to wait around in the lounge for the final leg of our trek to Montana. We boarded and found our roomette, this time on the first floor, so we did not have to schlep our bags up the narrow winding stairs to the upper rooms. Chicago as seen from the train. Overall, train travel is WAY more civilized than airlines. You can take more stuff with you, you are not subjected to the dubious "security" provided by the TSA's invasive searching of your bags and your person. You don't even go through a metal detector, nor did we have to show eight for...

Written late Tuesday, December 17 Tuesday dawns over Washington, DC with grey skies and hints of pink. Sleep? What sleep? I often do not sleep well when I travel. All my routines are off and it's hard to find the comfort I find in my own bed. The tiny roomette turns out to be more spacious than we first noticed when hubby climbs up into the top bunk and finds a nice storage space for some of our bags. He says goodnight, I turn out the light, and he's snoring two minutes later. Darn him. I put on a meditation podcast. It's nice and I am feeling tired (it is 1:30 am) but the podcast ends, and I can't get comfortable. Too hot. Too cold. Blankets too tight. Untuck everything. Move the bag to another location so I can stretch out fully. Listen to Edgar Meyer play the Bach cello concertos. Listen to the train whistle. Rock side to side as we rush around the curves. Right side. Left side. Flat on my back. Listen to another meditation podcast. Peek out the window as tiny t...

Written on Monday, December 16. The journey began today with the usual running aroud like chickens with our heads removed; last minute errands to the banks, post office, drug store, Chik-Fil-A, and my office. We also worked in one final workout before 17 days of train travel, hotels, visiting, and uncertain food. It was go go go, all day long, with only a few minutes here and there to check email and Facebook and set the DVR. Left behind in Savannah today, my mother, hanging with the cats and dog, probably cleaning something as we speak. After cramming everything we possibly could into our over-stuffed suitcases, laptop bag, book bag and overnight/travel bag, we load into the Jeep and race out the southwest bypass to the Amtrak station, located in a wasteland of industrial warehouses and whatnot. Praise God, they called and said the train was running an hour late. Praise Him again because when we called while driving like bats out of hell, they told my husband that the train was n...