“Hope” is the thing with feathers, That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops ... at all - Emily Dickenson

Friday, May 4, 2018


Fountain Lake is not a natural lake. It was created in 1855 by a dam at the Ruble Mill. Because of farm silt runoff over the years it has tended to fill in with a mud bottom. This summer The City is going to dredge the mud out of Fountain Lake (again) and soon they will be starting almost in front of 1410. I asked Tom Jones where the tailings from the dredging were going to be deposited. His response was very 'off-google'.  
"If you go out to the bath road and look to your right before you get to the good sam road you will see it."  It reminded me of how directions were given back in The Grove where I grew up.
"It is just past where that big oak tree used to be in front of the site where the Sorensons lived before the storm of '47 took all the buildings except the silo and that crazy brick outhouse. Ya know, you remember Einer Sorenson, he was Knute and Bertha Sorenson's oldest - the kid who rode out that storm in the outhouse. For years he drove that old gravel roadgrader the Township bought from Mower County in '39 -  the one with the chip out of the blade so it left a ridge. Ya gotta remember Einer, he sipped Schnapps all day and ya could tell what time of the day he graded the road by how straight that gravel ridge was  And don't get me started about his sister, Lena - the one who ran off with the gypsy violin player. Uff-da, she was a wild one, and a real dish, ya know."
Always good to know where you are in the world - Gunnar

1 comment:

Coline said...

Homes in my village are always referred to by as those of previous or even more previous occupants, guess I shall never live in my own house...Your directions beat mine by a mile.