Steam, water, ether

Welcome along to my cold-fuelled very Totnesian blog this afternoon!
Still snotty I decided that I cant stay in on a beautiful sunny day, I needed the fresh air and so followed my plan and went to the South Devon Railway.

I don't want to tell you today in what order things happened, how I had a hot chocolate at Buckfastleigh, how there was a massive Owl at Totnes, how I chatted to Wendy at the museum, instead I've decided to blog what I wrote in my notebook on my journey home. As some of you know, I love writing and the journey back from Buckfastleigh inspired me and lifted my snotty spirit! So here you have it.......

My day in my words.

Leaving Buckfastleigh, grassy banks either side of the train, the water soaked tufts, sitting in lumps, big tufty mounds, the kind you can turn your ankle over on. The kind of water soaked tuft that shows a true wet winter and requires a good rolling come spring, if the ground is ever to be any good.

Over a little bridge that took us over the Dart, below were deep cool clear pools of metallic water, you can almost smell the iron content as the water flows from the moor.
The water takes a turn, patterns changing around the rocks in white egg-whipped fury. Little white clouds of watery passion shoot up from either side of the rock and pass back into the flowing river.

Spots of winter in clusters between the trees, tiny little white bobbing heads of snow, waving in the chill winter breeze. Snowdrops showing a sign of spring for us, a little white glow of hope.

Nature shows us the time of year so faithfully, the green of ivy, the only green to be seen. The brown Beech leaves hanging on tight onto the tiny whips, showing no sign of growth or bud.
No signs of buds among the still stark trees, dead-looking, but patient, so powerfully growing within, yet giving nothing away.

I feel the heat on my back from the vast steam engine behind me, I feel the powerful motion and the drive of the steam. Beside me moss-covered rocks line the Dart edge, moss spreading through the trees.
The train letting off steam like an emotion, a cry of excitement, rushing along the bumpy track. Racing to get somewhere, beside the racing flowing river. The two were inseparable at this point, both moving swiftly with a purpose, both on a mission of excitement and drive to get somewhere, but where?
River and Railway separated only by a brambly bank, both going back to Totnes, both hurrying to be home.

Steam clouds puffing out by the window like fairytale magic. This magnificent puffing machine, so powerful as to carry us, so majestic in it's appearance, slowly pulls into Staverton Station and rests awhile.
As we move from the Station I notice freshly ploughed fields to my left. A sign of a move forward. Ploughing means growing and growing means sunshine.
Sunshine wasn't lacking today though, it was ever-resent to warm me and make me smile.
At this point it was burning through the window warming my face and making my eyes shine.
The train engine, panting, seething, puffing in the station, the smell of soot, it exhales and then leaves again as though on an effortless long run.
Again, the excitement, the noises, but this time the Dart is still and glimmering gently in the sun. Now the river cannot understand the fury of the train's movement, when before, train and river were acting alike.
The very essence of unpredictable nature which makes it so perfect.

Again, a magical mist appears to my side and flows into the twigs of the dormant trees, catching in it like silver.
Branches of the trees hanging into the cold cold Dart water, branches reaching and arching, as though to capture a special secret, or precious item from the depths, lichen hanging from their tender limbs.

And now, the excited release of the thundering engine faster and faster.
We slow, we stop, the engine gives out a sigh of beautiful sooty pleasure.
She had brought me home.