This is such an amazing place.
The whole day has been filled with fog. The ground has been frosty, the bushes frozen in place, and the clouds just won't life higher than the rooftops.
It seems like it's bound to continue in this slow, gloomy way.
I have a half hour or so drive from my home to where I attend college. I find myself griping about this once in a while...maybe often. It's not a fun drive when gas doesn't have a reputation for being easy on the wallet. or easy on the pockets if that's where you prefer to stash your cash.
Oh, but today I actually found myself excited that I live a bit of a distance.
As I drove closer and closer to my home, the fog began to slowly lift. Higher and higher, the clouds danced away. Until...what is that I see? Blue? A blue sky?
It's been so long since I have seen something so gorgeous.
So I have to say, the drive to this distant, far away land I call home put me in a very good mood.
I drove along the sunny roads that run along with the river, until I found exactly what I was looking for.
I pulled in to the gravel - it's not exactly a parking lot - and come to a stop.
And then I was finally there. The old, historic, Butte Creek Mill.
I've literally drove by this place for years and years. I've seen it out the backseat window as my parents zoomed by on our way to the middle school years ago. I've even walked by the old, wooden structure and wondered to myself what it's like inside.
I've heard the stories of those lucky ones who've already dared to enter. I've seen people with items from the Mill Store in their pantries and on their counter tops. I've even attempted to make cookies using their flour!
But now, my friends, the day has officially come. Taylor has visited the Mill all on her own.
Once I am released from my car, I just stand and look up. The roof is so tall, so wooden, and so ancient it seems. The point reached so far into the beautiful, blue winter sky. And right up at the top it reads "Butte Creek Mill". No, ladies and gentlemen, not the BUTT creek.
I could have actually been happy to just observe all the great treasures on the porch. I mean, there were old signs everywhere that kept me intrigued for quite a long time. The rustic, soft blue bench beckoned for a picture to be taken. The large covering gave the perfect amount of shelter from the wintry breeze, while the sun shone down and warmed my body.
I was so intrigued that I almost forgot to go inside.
Just when I seemed to be getting used to the atmosphere, I was blown away again.
The rich smell of aged wood rushed into my lungs. I was sure I walked straight into the 1800s. I was completely surrounded by some of the most gorgeous antiques I have ever seen.
Gas signs, indian statues, rusted mail boxes, post cards, wheat barrels.... and about a thousand other treasures.
There was this little white door with a sign that said "milling room". There was a window imbedded into the door that I soon found my nose pressed against.
What I found literally filled me with wonder. There were men working around like little bees, all wearing masks. They were carrying big bags of flour around and filling bins full of oats.
They reminded me of oompa loompas.
But that wasnt all there was to see....
To my left there was an even more exciting door to pass through. When I walked through the glorious threshold, I was greeted by a wonderful array of goodies.
Organic flour, oatmeal, cookie mix, corn bread, molasses, loose leaf tea, olive oils, and basically every seasoning ever known to man- women too.
Each and every detail was authentic, inspiring, fresh and on the healthful side of life. There was a huge and incredible wood stove that was heating the little place. There was even a pot of cinnamon on top that painted the air with a delicious aroma.
And oh..OH. There was an ancient refrigerator with some of my most favorite drinks in the whole world. Martinellis, jones soda, and... Henry Weinhard's rootbeer and cream soda. Cream soda!!
So I grabbed myself an ice cold beverage and carried it to the giant counter. There was only one older lady working. She had short, blonde hair drizzled with gray. She wore glasses that I'd expect on a librarian.
It was truly one of the greatest places I have ever been. So historic. So great.
And the greatest part about it... its right down the street from my home.
If im missing....you know where to find me.