We traveled first to the hill fort atop a local landmark known as the bul barrow.
The sheep flocked here despite hoof and mouth disease and since there was no warning to stay out we felt fairly comfortable around them. It was a beautiful site, drenched in history and a heavy mist. I would have loved to stay longer but we had other things to see today. So we we had a whirlwind tour of the Dorset countryside, with hardly enough time to take it all in.
Finally, on a long plunge down towards Rolls Mills Colin decided that our daytrip was not complete unless we saw the mill in all its glory.
We traveled past the tranquil waters leaving Hayley and baby behind in the land rover and ran into a short balding old man who proceeded to take us on a wonderful tour of the little mill. He delighted in showing us how each machine worked and reciting the history of the place as an antiquarian would recite names and places of ancient battles. He was a descendant of the millers of Sturminster and he loved the history of the place. I delighted to discover that every year the little mill pond flooded, rising eight or nine feet and spilling into the mill. Every year for a thousand years the mills here have flooded and instead of complaining or trying to devise a solution all they have done is take the day off.
Midway through our 45 minute tour Colin remembered wife and baby and ran off. I’m sure he had some explaining to do about what happened to our LITTLE visit to the mill.
It began to mist again as we pulled in from our trip and my mind is now, as it has been since the mist began, atop an ancient fortified village, dancing in the rain.
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