Revisting an old Inspiration

Sometimes on the side of the road there are historic places that almost everyone passes by without realizing they're still present. While out on our drive my guy and I stopped to revisit one, the remains of a sugar mill from 1825.

The only thing that protects the place is a chain-link fence, through which I took these pics. It's incredible to stand so close to something so old.

Compared to modern factories the ruins seem so small, barely larger than a house. Local lore tells us while using the first steam-powered cane-crushing mill in the region, Dummitt produced sugar and rum at the mill with the help of approximately 40 local Indians and 100 slaves. In turn, the Indians traded fresh game for the mill’s products.

It's a very quiet spot. Each time I go there I try to imagine 140 people working at the mill, most not by choice.

This is another place for which I want to write a story one day; perhaps a mystery of something found at the mill by a slave. It has that kind of slightly eerie presence when you look at it, a ruin still concealing an old secret.

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Stuff

After finding this Caron one pound skein of lovely peach yarn in my thrifted lot I raided my stash for two cakes of Mandala in Pegasus, which matches it perfectly. For practice and hand therapy I'm going to make another Worth Street Afghan with this free pattern , but this time I'll use the yarn that was recommended for it plus the one pound skein. I'm not quite ready to do the vintage/recycled linen quilt I had planned (still a bit too nervous about the idea), so I'm going to use some color therapy and make a quilt from these thrifted green fat quarters. I considered doing another Yellow Brick road patchwork pattern, but I might go with a split rail fence like this one.

Journal Find

This is a page from my 2010 poetry journal. My handwriting isn't the best, so I'll transcribe it: If my heart survives to tell all the secrets kept inside it will be an abalone shell in which the beauty did reside. But I think I will always be lost to the tides that rage in me . . . humbling and polishing . . . I don't write many self-portrait poems, but this one isn't too embarrassing. A bit overly dramatic, but the girl I was eleven years ago went through some tough times. I'm in a much more peaceful place today.

The Numbers

Back in March my diabetes doctor changed my medication and encouraged me to alter my diet and exercise more in order to bring down my A1C, which at the time tested out at a dismal 8.3 (normal is 5.8.) So for the next two months I dealt with the increased meds, stuck to my decidedly grim diet and added a lot more walking to my exercise regime. P.S., it's never fun to be a diabetic, but over the last couple of months I've really tried to keep a good attitude about it. Attitude isn't everything, but it helps a lot when you have to make significant changes while battling a disease like this. Yesterday I performed a home A1C test, and I'm currently at 6.5. That's pretty amazing results, even for me. If I can get it down another half point before I see the doctor in July I'd be over the moon, but I feel like I've already done great. Image credit: Image by Daniele Liberatori from Pixabay

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