I live up the road from the Lang Railroad Station in New Boston. The station is now part of a town forest and walkway along the old railroad line. No train has been heard here since early in the last century.
But one went through last night.
I was home from work at midnight and watching HBO’s “Perry Mason”, when I heard a loud approach of an unmistakable train whistle. I thought it was the TV, then realized it was out on the road. I saw lights as it went by, then heard it up on Rte 13. About an hour later, it went by again.
I believe it might be one of those idiosyncratic small town traditions of the Fourth. Someone with loudspeakers on their truck cruised the dark roads of New Boston in the early hours of the Fourth sending a lost sound of the past out into the night.
This morning, as I was in the front yard thinking of how to stuff mothballs into the burrow of my plant destroying enemy, a parade of ancient automobiles draped with flags and filled with waving people, drove up the road.
I expected nothing from this grim Fourth , but these were unexpected heart lifting events, transient though they were-
Happy Fourth, and may you hear ghost trains tonight and watch motorcades from happier times-
And here are some obligatory garden pictures .