Peters Traces His RootsOctober, 1994
Exit, Stage RIGHT
It's time I should be getting back to the mill. A sunny morning is taking over the fields. As I head back up to the road, I come across our water supply; that's it to the right of the tree, the wooden cover over a surface well. Since we have no plumbing, can't flush, and can barely drain, one large bucket in the morning and one in the evening holds us for the whole day. It may not be civilization as we know it, but it's a lot better than some other plumbing I've experienced this trip. And don't ask for details!
Stepping back a ways - the tree in the middle is the same as by the well, below - I take a last look around. Before long, winter snow will transform the landscape. But, fleeting like my shadow, it will have come and gone before I return next summer.