Siberian Express

Thursday, January 6, 1988

The new year came in on the “Siberian Express,” windy and cold. We haven’t walked this week because it’s been below zero. Everything snaps and hums. The train coming down the track a quarter of a mile away is first felt as a slight tension, then a vibration as of a tightly strung wire. Next the humming of the rails becomes stronger then fades as it winds through the woods and hills. The cold seems to intensify the sound as the train gathers speed and comes nearer, pulsating and thrumming along the tracks, then groaning and chugging, louder and more loud, until it seems to take over and is split down the middle by the shrill whistle. For a moment more it roars along then clack-clacks into the distance, fading away. A distant whistle and it is gone.

I like to hear the train in the night. It is as though a friend had come near.