Today will be summer hot at 75°. It is a bright, lovely morning. Everything is still. Last night was cool, perfect for sleeping. The house still holds the chill.

The spiders’ webs have taken over. They stretch from corner to corner, across plant fronds, on the stairs and at the bottoms of chair legs. I keep moving.

I am a railroad fan. That love started when I was a kid and rode the subway with my mother. We’d take the bus to Sullivan Square from uptown then board the subway. I remember standing on the platform as close to the tracks as my mother allowed. I’d watch for the train. It came with a whoosh of wind. I always knelt on the seat so I could look out the window. I remember the squeal of the breaks when the train stopped at a station.

I didn’t take a passenger train until Ghana where I rode the train every place I could. Mostly I’d travel from Accra to Kumasi where the train tracks ended. I always traveled first class which didn’t cost a whole lot. I’d sit in my own compartment which had a glass door and a huge window next to the comfy chair. Harry Potter’s train reminded me of the Ghanaian train. At every stop, people came to the window trying to sell us food like bread, fruit and mystery meat kabobs. I always bought something. Once I took an overnight train. I had my own compartment with a pull down bed and a sink. The front of the train derailed during the night and shook me awake. We had to leave the train to walk on the tracks across a trestle bridge to the rescue train. That was my most exciting ride.

I rode trains all over Europe. The train in Finland took me to the Arctic Circle. The train from Copenhagen went across Europe to Hook of Holland. It took around 12 hours. The woman sharing our compartment was German, married to an Englishman and going home. She had a basket filled with food she shared with my friend and me. At Hook of Holland we took a ferry across the channel and picked up a train on the other side.

I rode trains in South America with spectacular views. I saw the Andes covered with snow. I saw bananas growing. The train changed directions at a switchback, at the Devil’s Nose. It was a bit scary. The most amazing ride was from Cusco to the train station below Machu Picchu. We saw Incan ruins, villages build on Incan stone, and, at one, point, I could see the front of the train from near the back. The trains were mostly just regular trains. Back, when I traveled there, few Americans did so the trains did not cater to tourists.

On my wish list, when I win the lottery, is riding the Orient Express. I hope Poirot is one of the passengers.