McCarthy Mill

Three days ago the weather people said that it would thunderstorm all day. My mistake was believing it. Instead of exploring like I should have, I stayed indoors, drank wine and watched movies. But their was no thunderstorm. (At least not until very late in the evening.) The next morning, feeling disgusted with myself for giving in so easily the day before, I rode out on my bicycle determined to make up for it. Of course, I would first need to stop at the cemetery to water the flowers at my mother and fathers gravesite. While there, I noticed that a flower on one of the Rose of Sharon had finally bloomed. Which I took a photo of.

A flower on one of the Rose of Sharon.

From there I rode back to the old Stefflers house, which is no longer lived in, and has no door handle on the front. I took more photos, and actually felt happier with these ones, then the ones I took last time. Then I walked around to the backyard intending to follow the forest to the creek. The grass was thick, and wet from the rain though, and their was a huge and determined colony of mosquitoes, that could easily have drained me of all my blood. On top of all that their was what looked like poison Ivy here and there. So dejected I walked back to my bicycle. I will probably never return again, as I have already trespassed twice, and even I have my limits.

The old Stefflers home. Front and rear.

A car seat in the backyard of the Stefflers house.

I continued south on Creditview, and once again turned right at Eglinton. I then sped down the hill, and turned right onto Old Barbertown Road. At the new pedestrian bridge I locked up my bicycle and tried out the trail that winds north along side of the river. I have no memory of it, but its unlikely that I have never explored it before. Unfortunately, it was overgrown with grass. Very wet grass. So I had to retreat again. As consolation for all my disappointment, I rode over to the old McCarthy Mill, and looked around. It seems to me that the massive London Plane is gone. I will need to look deeper in the woods though, to know for sure. Afterwards, I went home.

McCarthy Mill.

5 thoughts on “McCarthy Mill”

  1. McCarthy bridge was one if the happiest places for me as a teen at sss. We spent so many days and nights there…good memories of a time when the future was wide open…and a place of grief and consolation when the reality of life and death intruded and awoke us all from the slumber of immortal youth

    Liked by 1 person

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