It’s finally raining, but the humidity is still horrific. Typing is even sweat producing. All I can imagine doing is lying languidly on a chaise lounge while eating bon bons. The paper says the weather will break in a couple of days. I hope so. This is the worst stretch of hot, humid weather I can remember.

I so love rain storms and dark rooms and the sound of the raindrops on the windows. I can hear a bird or two but no cars or people. The animals are asleep. The heat makes them drowsy and listless. Fern is stretched out across a couch pillow with her paws hanging. Gracie is in her crate. Maddie is upstairs asleep on the bed. My typing is the only sound in the house. I find the silence comforting.

Traffic was at a standstill in Hyannis. The gate was down, and the train was heading back to the station. I got to listen to the train whistle and watch the cars pass.  It was like being a little kid again when the train ran every day. I remember putting a penny on the tracks and waiting for the train wheels to flatten it. The trains carried freight, never passengers. I liked the caboose most of all. The other cars were mostly black or brown. The caboose was always red.

I have a fascination with trains and love riding them. Sleepers are the most fun and hearing the clack of the wheels on the tracks is about the best way to fall asleep. I’ve slept on trains in Africa and Europe, in first class beds and on couchettes with six to a room.

If I could go back in time, I’d take the Orient Express from Paris to Istanbul. I’d dress for dinner every night and drink fine wine. I’d mingle with royalty, a few celebrities and hope for a spy or two.  Nothing like a little intrigue to enliven a journey.