Pages from Lizzie's Journal
February 15, 2002óinspired by Thoreau
Iíve come across a beautiful piece of land nestled below a
railroad track. The land is mostly flat except for a gentle slope upwards
toward the tracks. There are several large oak trees scattered across the
property, and judging by their mammoth trunk size theyíve been here for
hundreds of years. These trees are so tall and so full that in the summer
filtered light casts faint shadows of a mist green hue over the landscape.
Thunderous black birds inhabit the top floors of these oaks and commune in
a loud screeching pitch that at times causes me to cover my ears.
Where the grass
is damp from the early morning dew, I see prints of the deer that have
come at night to feast on the fallen crab apples. Once, late at night I
came upon a mother
and two fawns. I stood silently watching
unnoticed until the whistle of the night train caught their ears and,
looking up, they spied me. One look back over their shoulders and they flew
into the woods near the open field. I saw them stop and turn to view me
one more time before darting further into the woods.
Now the train is ambling by, and I can smell its exhaust floating
through the air. My feet sense the vibration of the iron wheels rolling
over the steel tracks. No one would ever believe the neon city is in full
swing just one block away from where I am standing.
Above: Lizzie Lowe (photo by Linda Tate).