in her dreams,

atc-in-her-dreams-6-16-small
in her dreams,
I present these oracle-like artist trading cards for your review and possible edification! You remember such items from the past, maybe – here they are again.
I make these cards and then I give them a phrase cut from printed matter, chosen at random but maybe not. See if you get any kind of push or insight or set off on any train of thought from looking at and reading these, even if it’s just to say, “Whaaat?!”

a little nervously

a little nervously

a little nervously

“And I Really Mean It…”

…said the aliens (?).

Seen on a sidewalk in Glenside, PA, on July 15. Write down that place and date so you’ll have a reference for when you read about the new people in town here!

Marks on sidewalk 7-15-16 small

it was useless

it was useless

it was useless

became clear

became clear

became clear

By Whom? And Why?

I don’t know. I just liked the look of this mud-encrusted root system, dried up, and with these holes bored into it. Just fascinating.

And what will happen when it rains?

Good Deed. Thank You.

It’s a small thing, but then, maybe not. It seems important to me that I mention this incident.

I was running along the new section of the Pennypack rail trail this morning. There are parts of it still awaiting their final covering of gravel. So I had some very muddy parts to navigate, with this one in particular looking just impossible to cross. Not only was the trail one big deep mud bog, and for a good distance, but the area extended into the brush and the footing was not good enough to skirt the mess. I thought I’d have to just go through it and my poor sneakers, well, they would take a trip through the wash when I got home.

But an unknown person did me and all the rest of us trail-users a favor. It was a simple thing – lay a couple of boards along the side of the mud hole. But it took some doing. They looked like clapboards and they weren’t local – meaning just lying around within a few feet of the trail. Somebody went to trouble to help us all out.

I’m certainly thankful for what they did. It made me feel cared for. Sometimes it’s easy to think the world is a harsh place and everyone is looking out for himself or herself and no one else. This little gesture reminds me that often things are otherwise, in all kinds of small ways that add up.

Made me smile!

I Had No Idea

I’m going to tell you a story about how a person can go along a path for years never dreaming of the presence of a secret located literally right beneath her feet.

And of course I am talking about myself. Here is what happened.

This morning my husband and I were walking along the Green Ribbon Trail in the Fort Washington State Park. Before the Sunshine Project, I often dropped off little clay figurine women here and there. Not on a schedule, just as I felt like it. I’m returning to that tradition and I took one with us to set along the trail.

The figurine herself.

The figurine herself.

You may remember that this trail mostly follows the flood plain of the Wissahickon Creek. There is, however, a section of it that was originally the roadbed of a rail line – it cut across the countryside and passed through Flourtown about 2 miles away. There is still a slight rise in Bethlehem Pike, the main road, where the tracks passed over it and were covered up, and you can see the path of the train line (now part of a parking lot).

What’s this got to do with the figurine? Well, I wanted to set her on a little concrete bridge on the trail.

The small bridge on the Green Ribbon Trail as we approached it.

The small bridge on the Green Ribbon Trail as we approached it.

I’ve run this route for 5 or more years, but I never stopped to look over the bridge. Just never bothered.

Today I set the figurine to one side of it.

The figurine is set at the lower right hand corner on the right-hand side of the bridge.

The figurine is set at the lower right hand corner on the right-hand side of the bridge.

Then I looked over. I expected to see a culvert for water runoff. Instead, I saw what looked liked a pedestrian underpass, the kind going under countless train tracks at stations all over our area.

Looking over - here is what I saw. It's not a drainage culvert. That  I could clearly see.

Looking over – here is what I saw. It’s not a drainage culvert. That I could clearly see.

Naturally we had to investigate. So we scrambled down the bank and – here is what we saw. It was an underpass, beautifully designed and solid as a rock, for the now-extinct train line. What a dignified structure it was. We looked around a bit and then climbed back to the trail.

Curious now, we noticed a short way down the trail that the rail roadbed continues. It’s only in this season that it is apparent – any other time the vegetation disguises it. The trail makes a sharp turn away from it and I’ve run by it many times and never ever noticed.

View from the trail. The rail bed continues ahead - you might be able to see the clear space above it between the trees.

View from the trail. The rail bed continues ahead – you might be able to see the clear space above it between the trees.

We worked our along, fighting through thickets of wild raspberry bushes. Once we knew what to look for, the railroad’s path was obvious. It dead-ended at a road that, now that we knew what to look for, had obviously been raised and is now above and covering a section of the line. Walking a little further along, we could see the remnants of the line crossing a nearby golf course – a softened embankment marked its course, with a break in it for a little creek, the train bridge long gone.

We made our way back to the trail. We figured the line might have had something to do with a nearby quarry. But maybe not. We’ll have to look into it. But what is almost magic about this experience is the idea that this structure, what I thought was just an ordinary bridge, really was a gate into the past, wasn’t it?

Happy Saturday.

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