Hi Steve,I love this picture. It reminds me of my great-grandparent's house in Italy. They worked the mill for a rich family and were able to live in it and raise their family there. I visited for the first time when I was 12 - and having heard so much about it - couldn't wait to see it for myself. My great-aunt, Giacinta, was living there alone at the time. I would spend a lot of time with her over the summer. She wasn't working the mill anymore - but the water could still be manipulated with the wheel. I'd shut it down - watch the level of the 'river' build up - and then release it so I can watch the water run to the other side. The house was like a bridge and the water ran through under it - where the grindstones were located. The river still had fish and eel. Many times we'd be able to catch some and we'd have them for supper. We'd cook over open flame inside the house - very rustic - and picnic outside by the banks of the river - under fig trees. Some of the best memories of my life.Take care...DD
Sounds wonderful, DD. This weir is kind of drawn from memory. I fished from a similar construction many times as a boy, usually with friends but also often alone. Here I learned to enjoy my own company, and an important lesson it was.In Winter Wood I've turned this happy recollection into something really quite sinister.
Post a Comment