So to continue my story about the wildflowers and railroad track, I was told about a half mile down the track there was an old railroad trestle and yet more bluebonnets that would make for a nice picture. Well, I needed my daily walk anyway, and a half mile isn’t that far, so off I went.
She was right about the flowers; bluebonnets everywhere. And more of Frost’s first green is gold mesquite trees.
It didn’t take long to see the train trestle in the distance.
There it stood, silently waiting for a train that would never come.
It has been there since 1903, welcoming trains in the old days, now neglected and alone, visited only by the cows and donkeys that live there with it, as well as the occasional wanderer looking for a scenic photograph.
As I left, walking over the railroad ties that seemed just as strong as when trains rumbled over them, I spotted a wild mustang grape vine making its way across the tracks and was reminded of my dad and his love for the wild grapes made into cobblers when the grapes were still green. He would have been ten years old when this trestle was built, both young and strong and eager to see what life and the train tracks would bring to them.
Life brought my dad many things during his stay on earth; life brought many trains through this trestle during its time of service. Daddy has gone on; this trestle remains, a reminder that old things served well; are still of value, even past their prime.
Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, old trestle.