Ye Olde Mill

Down by the old mill stream...where I first met you,
With your eyes of blue, dressed in gingham, too.
It was there I knew that you loved me true.
You were sixteen, my village queen, by the old mill stream.
Tell Taylor 1910

This is not my city. It is the neighboring village of Linden. I looked around for the village queen, as long as she was over 21. I found an 60ish man smoking a cigarette on a bench, and a young man working away on his computer. No queen.

The small village gets a lot out of the old building. The main floor houses the local library. The lower level is where the village council meets.

Behind the big tree in the picture is a gazebo with power that has 6-7 concerts in the summer. I say concerts...it's a trio or quartet that performs. It runs the gamut from folk to big band to rock and to country. Most of the time...it's enjoyable. When it's not good...you paid nothing for a ticket...so you just try to quietly sneak away.

96 and sunny today. My camera battery was almost dead. It died, and I put my spare in. Nothing. Worthless back-up. I got about 25 shots, and then back home.

If I could put in a park bench with a young couple holding a flower, or a grandpa and his grandson fishing on the bank...I think it would have been a scene that Norman Rockwell might have painted. A pleasant place with just a little water noise from the slight drop of the river.