I left the canvas of the Flagstaff Subdivision blank for too long. Or, maybe just long enough.
Trackwork and wiring were 90-percent complete this spring when warm weather called us outdoors. My plan for the fall was to finish up powering the turnout frogs, get the backdrop and fascia done, then focus the long, cold winter on scenery.
But, baseball’s fun until it’s not, and by the Dog Days of Summer, the Superintendent and the Conductor had rediscovered the wonders of model railroading.
Two paths spread out before me.
Down the one, hours spent mostly alone festidiously crafting a convincing if not altogether faithful facsimile of Flagstaff.
Down the other, happy memories of my boys creating, expressing, falling in love with the hobby while turning the Flagstaff Sub into a candy-colored mush.
“Just don’t get any paint on the tracks,” I sighed.