After stopping by the Old Regular Church, we decided to go out to the mill and let Pugsley cool off in the river with a quick swim. First we toured the grounds a bit and let him get some exercises. Then headed down the trail to the old damn and let him get wet.
Whenever I see an old mill like this, I always wonder if my family didn't have something to do with it. You see my Great grandfather traveled the world from Halifax to remote outpost in Brazil and everywhere in between.
He drug his family along with him. So my grandmother grew up with a nomad kind of life. They would build damns and mills everywhere they went. After training the management and workers, they would move on to the next. Rarely was anything written down. So we don't have much as far as records go.
My Great grandmother did keep a journal of sorts and a book was written and published about their adventures in South America. But other than that we don't know much about all the different mills that they built. My father still has the clay water jug that his grandmother used to fetch water with while in the jungle of the Amazon. Although, I don't think it would still hold water. It is quite a beautiful piece. And very fragile I might add. After all, It's been dry for about 100 years now.
And the little fish, he finds very fascinating.