Do you remember how to slide down a steep bank and balance precariously on a wobbly rock?
Do you remember watching yellow leaves and glistening sticks float by in small streams and the colors in wet rocks that look like a troll's treasure?
Do you remember the swirling foam and the feel of slick rocks under your feet and a time when there was nothing else to do?
The Mill Stream in Blue Hill, Maine.
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ReplyDeleteRemember? My great-grandmother's lawn sloped down to that very stream...turn the clock back 40-odd years (oh who am I kidding---turn it back 50) and that child would be me...looking for tadpoles in spring, wading on a hot day--jumping from rock to rock down to the Firepond, and, occasionally, slipping and falling in....thanks for the flood of memory, and the reminder that no matter how much some things have changed, this pleasure remains the same...although the two little wooden bridges, through which you could see between the planks to the stream rushing below, have long since been replaced with modern ones.
ReplyDeleteDid you know that, a couple hundred feet up from the Mill St. Bridge, on the left bank, there is a depression hollowed in a ledge, where the Native Americans ground corn hundreds of years ago? My father only told me about this recently, realizing that he was one of the few who remember the spot....
How beautiful! In my hometown—more like scenes from The Last Picture Show than pastoral Maine—my best friend and I would sit on the swinging bridge and watch the world pass by along the red, muddy Cow Creek below. By world, I'm talking world: sometimes upholstered sofas, sometimes washing machines, once a bathtub! My dad said going to that creek for beauty was like going to the pool hall for a breath of fresh air! I have always looked that comment and the general childhood state of not passing judgement while passing the time.
ReplyDeleteDilettante ~ Thank you so much for your comment and memories...another piece of our town's history clicks into place! Wouldn't it be fun to collaborate on the hollowed ledge...your father's knowledge, your writing and my photos??!! Still need to take interior JFH photos too...after the wedding?
ReplyDeletehome before dark ~ Thank you...and for your marvelous description of the"red, muddy Cow Creek!" I spent a good part of my childhood dunking pieces of butcher's meat into an incredibly filthy canal, netting crabs, in Port Arthur, Texas...home of Janice Joplin and two oil refineries. It was another world. We don't see upholstered sofas, washing machines and bathtubs in Maine's creeks....mostly they never get out of the "dooryard"...I think the Dilettante will back me up on that one!
I will indeed back you up on it---and after the wedding, we'll talk about the hollowed ledge
ReplyDeleteAmazing memories, yours and Home Before's. And, in a bit of coincidence, Janis Joplin grew up in your hometown, and her last boyfriend was from mine---you've gone full circle!
DED, I had no idea! I have, indeed, gone full circle....by a somewhat circuitous route!
ReplyDeleteBack to see if DED confirmed! What fun in the dooryard. By the way, if you haven't read Mary Karr, you might find some resonance there. She, being younger, writes with sass but her portrayal of growing up in Texas oil field town in her book "Cherry" is a side-splitting, heart-breaking, and ultimately a form of redemption with spirit first found in books. Just a little diversion from the wedding madness. Fingers crossed for perfect October weather.
ReplyDeletehome before dark ~ Thank you for your book suggestion, I'll walk down the road to my favorite independent book seller. The owners are brilliant when it comes to finding just about everything! And I appreciate all crossed fingers for a sunny day! I talked to the bride-to-be this morning and she sounds calm and happy. Ten days to go!
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