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The following vignette was written after a visit
to the home of retired physician and master gardener
Don Parker who has built a garden train (the Rustin
Decripit Railroad, aka the R & D) beside the home
Don and his wife share near West Salem, Ohio.
Click on an image to enlarge it. Click on BACK to
return.
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We wait on the station platform, invisible luggage in hand.
The schedule for the R & D Railroad is irregular we understand.
The signalman must flag down the train before it curves toward town.
If not, the train will just whistle and keep going, throttle down!
While we wait, we watch the blacksmith hard at work in his shop ‘cross the
street.
We can see the wink of his red forge fire; hear the thud of horses’ feet.
"Here she comes!" the stationmaster calls. The R & D arrives on time.
Brakes a-squeal, she pulls in and stops. "All aboard!" Up the steps we climb.
No ticket needed. Sit back and relax. Enjoy the view. It’s free.
The train picks up speed as it curves out of town, past the mattress factory.
Up a hill and over the bridge. See the river way down below?
Past a farm, and a waterfall trickling down from rocky heights, we go.
Then into a tunnel, dark and long, we speed on our railroad way.
Suddenly a brand new world appears as we re-enter the light of day!
Rugged mountains; dense forests green, a tunnel as up we climb.
At the top, a black bear watches in awe: ‘What’s this thing with whistle
sublime?’
Then, over the top, downhill we speed, past rocky cliffs and tall trees.
We race through a tunnel, over a bridge, round a great curve with ease.
The meadows here are filled with flowers of yellow, pink and white.
Purple blooms spill o’er a rock wall. What a glorious sight!
Look, the waterwheel’s turning, powering the squealing saw blades.
The sawmill’s a busy place all day and its light burns long after night’s
shades.
Oh, look! There’s a little white church on the hill. What is that angelic sound?
A favorite old hymn wafts on the breeze and the bell peals for miles around.
On through a quarry, ‘round a horseshoe bend, through a jungle of shiny green
fronds.
Now over a bridge, through the tunnel so deep, past some beautiful mountain
ponds.
Over the trestle nearing town, our adventure is almost done.
We have to return to the life-sized world from our miniature make-believe fun!
The train toots "Good-bye" and roars out of town. We wave as it speeds on its
way.
The Rustin Decrepit Railroad will tour Don’s garden for another day!
Text by Mary Sue Rosenberger, June 2, 2006
Photos by Bruce Rosenberger
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