The gifts of an unvoluntary interlude

Here is my chance to write some words. Without a photo...The train journey was a bit complex until now. But rather pleasant in the sense that I had reading time in between the changes, five until now. “Without a picture,” I wrote, but meanwhile I stood up from that old wooden bench for a view of and from this off-the railroad station - in old times famous for its collection of heavy steam locs - It is deserted now with overgrown rail tracks. We missed our connection here and do the waiting for the next train to leave in forty five minutes.

There is a blue sky with thick white cumuli and a big bird of prey was circling high over the fields. Finches are making their high tuned beats. A lot of music to hear instead of the loud and noisy people voices and the wheel rattling while moving on. What a relief such an unwelcomed stopover...Further on I noticed a big planter covered with marigolds. I will go there, look and smell. And leave the waiting for the other few travellers. And indeed, here we see the blooming and blossoming outcome of a local initiative to care for the almost ruined platforms. The bright yellows and oranges, a patch of white and blue, such a beauty! A simple work of sustainable embellishment, creative hope giving by a group of volunteers calling themselves : the Station Spades.

And, you know, from here it takes only ten minutes to reach my destination: My Carlsheaven.
Why not try to feel more at home here and suspend my being stranded? Ah, it really is better to sit in the dry grass, leaning back against the concrete planter. Listening to the birdsong. Warming under the hot afternoon sun, hiding now and then behind the pure white clouds.
And, hey, look there comes the next train already. Many travellers hurrying not to miss their connexion. I keep sitting in the warm grass. We still have ten minutes before departure. Nothing is missing during this rich interval. Here are the gifts of that interlude: Dandelions and a short note on the road