It's almost impossible to go
past the old mill without being flooded with thoughts of days
gone by. With the sun breaking through after a morning rain, the
road to the mill would be busy . . . and Grandpa's wagon would
pause here and there to greet friends and talk of harvest. From
on top the sacks of grain we took it all in . . . and wished that
the ride would never end. Life seemed at its very best on those
days At The Mill.
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