It is amazing what things are taken for granted when not passed by daily. The mill had been one of the cornerstones of the Valley for quite some time. Now it is no more. Yet the Mill Pond remains.
We found pictures of Grandpa balancing on logs as he prepared them for the mill. We found pictures of our uncles daring to walk out on the ice. I found this to be a quiet reminder of what was and what is while uncertain of what will be.
Watching the birds fly just above the surface, I can imagine the ducks making their way from one side to the other, or the deer and elk stopping by the water’s edge for some respite. Watching the wind blow through the barren branches, I can recall the sound of the whistle blowing when the mill was in full swing. I can imagine the rumbling of log trucks making their rounds back and forth.
Now, on this side of a nearly empty road, I can only take in the marvel that is the beauty of the Valley.