Here’s Johnny’s Bridge all over again, images taken on the morning’s bike ride. They’ve been replacing the bridge over the past two weeks, and aren’t done yet. I think I told you about the history of Johnny’s Bridge and how it brought us together with the local historian? After I asked around on how it got that name, Bob, of Bob’s corner Store and Texaco fame, directed us to the man who has been the community bridge to its own history.
On our bike ride this a.m. R. took the image of post and beam timber-framing going on at the house we lived in, briefly, on moving to maine … after an even briefer season of needing a roof over head. It was a gift to live for a few months on this pond. Later we got to know the area enough to write a cycle of books, and a series, one fiction, one non. Here’s a fragment from the first, about a rural town in transition:
we lived on this road and knew about Nettie, the girl who lived on a berry farm on the mountainside above. she was born and raised to be her parents’ keeper in their aging, as some parents did in the late 1800s. your last child was to be yours, not living for his or herself. she did the unexpected and got married. she became a photographer.