Minus 42 with the wind chill as I sit at the crossing, waiting for this lumbering steel behemoth to slowly make its way. The air so cold I could hear the train coming as I left the house. The sharp clank of couplers and the piercing sounds of frigid steel wheels on rails seemed to accentuate the bitter chill.

Thoughts start to roam as graffiti rolls by, reminding me of a carousel in an amusement park where everyone has gone home. The lights flicker on a dark, rainy night as the horses continue to spin, and the music plays as if manipulated by some unseen force.

The desolation of winter takes its toll. The short hours of daylight, monotonous work days, and the feeling of being stuck inside make me pine for the spring rains when everything comes to life.

An old friend of mine, an Ojibwe elder, always noticed it long before I did, but now that he is with me in spirit, I look for the signs. “listen for the frogs singing in the bogs and go to the creeks. The white sucker swim to their spawning grounds and are easy to catch".

Everything has a season, and you must take action or miss the opportunity.

Fishing white sucker was good fun, and stocked the freezer with protein for days like this, but even the coldest winter turns to spring when the rains come, frogs sing, and suckers run.

Life feels different now that he’s gone; things were simpler then, and I find myself returning back to that life. A life of being in tune with nature and connecting with the energy around me like I never have before. Maybe I'm A little more experienced now, and what I thought I wanted really wasn’t that at all.

The unseen energy flows through all things; it makes the world go round. As the carousel spins and the horses play in the rain, I once again notice the flickering lights.

The lights of an oncoming car flashing through the rolling boxcars suddenly become steady as it passes me by. A long trail of white exhaust lingers behind it in the frigid cold as the sounds of the metal giant fade in the distance.



I make the crossing.