These days, when afternoon temperatures have hit above 100˚, it's nice to be out in the relative cool of the morning. Last week a friend and I left early, driving north from Gainesville, Missouri through quiet countryside on highway 181. At a bend in the road, we stopped at the historic Hodgson Mill in Sycamore, Missouri.
Built in 1861 to utilize the power of a huge spring, the mill was once a bustling center of community activity, powering a cotton gin, a clothing factory, and a lumber mill. Now, it's image can be seen on flour sacks from a national chain that adopted its its name, and it serves as a back country stop for tourists.
The mill's activity has changed, but the spring hasn't;
Of the nearly 3,000,000 gallons of water that gush from it daily,
some of it flows into a clear mill pond
that encases an underwater garden, moving with the flow of the current,
then over a small waterfall...
...before ribboning its way to join the clear waters of the Bryant River.
It was cool there that day, relative to the surroundings,
the icy water spreading its influence in the nearby woods.
Downstream, at Warren Bridge...
Where cliffs tower over glassy waters...
...we hated to break the silence.
Only the birds and bullfrogs had that privilege.
...He leads me beside quiet waters,
He restores my soul.
Psalm 23:2, 3
