12.30.18 Down By the Mill and Hollows

I’d lived in this town at 24, in a big old house with friends, working and going to school 

I’d been at a small party, at 23, followed up by an ill advised date, right round the corner 
 
Then I'd had my first in this town. And my second, born in my living room, right down the street

I always brought my first tromping round all the woods and fields and dales

Then brought him and his first good friends to play out back here, upon the broad steep rocks, the swift shallow falls, on scorching hot summer days. 

The rushing waters streaming past, over their small bare feet, as we carefully navigated the slippery moss, the stolid bumpy enormous boulder. As our noses burned and their laughter and interest filled the day

Brought my next two here, to homeschooling fairs, and to explore books, our lunches packed, 
ready to after go exploring through the forests. To unwind from life and integrate life and weave the wind and the hills and the land far into our selves

Always, it's into the land, into the forest, the streams and fields

Now, 40 years later, I’ve brought myself here in the late afternoon
for a small Sunday meal, a glass of wine

For a stroll through the galleons of used books, wandering up steep hidden staircases and down wobbly hallways, books everywhere , stacked, shelved, untold surprises, creations all

 And then a cold wander about the wooded walkways, as the day's light vanished and the golden lights hung overhead and lamps within various buildings like a small village

Shone out into the darkening day, as the falls sang loud and far 

Golden lights streaming in the approaching darkness
Always it's to go  greet the stream






The late day's light upon the falls, through the trees