Looking west down Williams Cut.

Remnants of Genoa Junction spark my imagination.

Shakespeare's breath still sails in the air up in the air, & it probably flew through Genoa Junction too.

100 years plus a couple decades worth of families growing by way of God's heavenly hand, stretching across the quintessence of the crop-bearing land.

Culture rolling through our lives like wheels headed to all known & unknown locales.

God trumps our aimless culture though.  Our crinkling artifacts end up in landfills.

We appreciate the ancient earth only in retrospect.

But starting now, at this junction in time & place, we can cherish each notch of new nostalgia.

O, my darling, our children should be able to take part in the magic you & I feel, as we roll & reel through these splendid blended junctures of seasons, & wake to blossoming mornings going strong from the cusp of yesterday's cozy yawn.