(late autumn forest floor)
The Sunday before Thanksgiving my friends and I took a very long two-hour walk, way up Bolin Creek, until we got to the ruins of a colonial gristmill, millrace and dam. It was exhilarating.
There was a path along the top of that ridge on the right (above), heading back in the direction of the ruins. On the other side of the ridge was the millrace, now dry.
There was a tiny bridge going over the millrace so we had a chance to see parts of the crumbling foundation walls from both sides. With all the vegetation filling in the area it was difficult to figure out what exactly we were looking at, where the mill itself might have actually been situated.
I found a bit of conflicting information online about who owned the mill, but hope to find out more about it one of these days. It’s something to contemplate, someone laying these stones here 260 years ago.
