I made pumpkin scones last night. This morning my suspicions were confirmed. Boxed mixes where all you do is add water, stir and bake; they miss the mark. The scones were alright but that’s not much of an endorsement. They are supposed to have a coarse texture with subtle, complex flavors. My box mix was fine texture and synthesized pumpkin was all you could taste. The coffee helped and I’ll not complain. Sometimes it’s just fuel for the machine.
Headed down to Grand Isle, Louisiana today; about three hours along bayous and salt marshes. It’s a great place for birding and that’s the plan. We will scope out the dunes and the Oak/Hackberry woods this evening for an early excursion in the morning. My eyesight leaves a lot to be desired and I’m not all that familiar with shore birds but we have the field manual and binoculars. I’ll be happy with some Ibis and a few pelicans. Regardless of how the birds cooperate, I have great confidence there will be a brunch somewhere with fresh-off-the-boat shrimp and crab cakes.
The train ride last Sunday is still fresh in my mind. To some extent it’s like a basketball game, you can doze off for a few minutes and get caught up in a sentence: “We crossed a bridge and the sun came out for a few minutes." On the up side, everything feels good; feeling the floor rock side to side, up and down and you think of sailors and sea legs. It doesn’t take long to know why they don’t fill cups or glasses all the way to the top. If all you wanted was coffee and a ride, you could have gone to work.
We got to talk with the engineers when we did the turn-around in Summerville. They were as excited about the tandem run as the passengers and spectators along the route. If I didn’t always love my job, I always felt good about it: I wanted to be there. I got the same feeling from the crew and staff on the train. Maybe not enough pay and maybe the hours aren’t the best but nobody wanted to be somewhere else.
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