Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Morning over the canal

This bridge is within a short walk of our home, and a railroad extends from it, perpendicular to the canal, deep into the bog. No train ever ran the track; it existed solely for horse-drawn carts that pulled turf -- the peat bog we use for fuel -- from the bog to the canal. Here, at this trestle, the carts were loaded onto barges, drawn by horses to the city of Dublin, and the turf under our feet furnished their heat in the cold winters.

These days, the trestle rusts in the mist, and the track is barely visible under the gravel of the road and the cow pasture. One day, though, we may have need of them again.

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