With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove*

The Typist at age 3, at an unidentified Virginia State Park campground

The Typist at age 3, at an unidentified Virginia State Park campground

The Mill is a wonderful place to live for those who enjoy exploring. I would have been in seventh heaven had I lived here as a child; some of my happiest memories are of my grandfather’s back yard and the woods behind it and the lake nearby, and all the adventures I had there. My son, in contrast, has never cared for the outdoors – too many bugs, he says. It’s probably no wonder he only lasted a couple of years in Scouts, whereas I was camping before I was even walking.

I’ve had greater opportunities (and incentives) to explore the neighborhood since we retrieved our dog from her summer-long exile in Kentucky. The other day I found a path back beyond one of the barns that leads past some fields that I intend to return too soon, and yesterday afternoon we went up the road a piece to where I’d earlier seen some tire tracks leading into an open field. We followed the tracks to the edge of the woods but didn’t go in; I’ll save that for another time. The other tenants suggested I follow the mill-race to a nearby dam, where there’s a place to swim and fish, so that’s on the agenda, as well as possibilities in the other direction as well.

I’ve been wanting, almost from the first time we saw the place, to dust off my camera equipment. I don’t think I’ve taken any pictures since my son last played soccer, which would make it at least 4 years. I finally did that this morning, and managed to snap photos of some of the structures and abandoned vehicles that decorate the place, plus one of a praying mantis and one of the old waterwheel that powered the mill. Clara was remarkably cooperative, lying down on command or waiting patiently while I fiddled with the aperture and shutter speed settings. It probably helped that the other 2 dogs who live here weren’t around to harass her – she likes them, but isn’t used to their level of roughhousing. I hope to go out again soon some morning before the mist has burned off, as I love the way mist threads through the hills here, and the sunrises are gorgeous.

* From “To Some Ladies” by John Keats


About Laura

Former single parent adjusting to an empty nest, moving back in with my parents, and returning to the workforce. Student of medieval history, fandom dabbler, and perspiring writer.
This entry was posted in Mill Living, Nostalgia and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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