On the very top of a hill,
Grandma wanted a well dug. She contacted someone, who came out and used a
willow forked stick, to show her where to dig.
They marked several spots and made a cross where they
intersected. She then called a drilling rig in. The cost was several
dollars per foot. The day came when they began to dig. Down they went 40
foot, 50 foot then 60 foot. It was getting expensive. Grandma read her
Bible and she found a verse that said streams of water would come from the
top of the mountains. Well, she decided that the next day they would find
water. 70 foot, 80 foot, 90 foot and then at 100 foot, beautiful cold
water, right thru the rocks. They sunk a long pipe of sorts, to hold the
sides and she had beautiful clear cold water.
My Mother and I were in the area several years ago, and
I asked if she had ever been back to the well. She said, "No, but we can
go." So here we go, two old women out driving around the wild, outback of
the woods. We find the right road, find a path off to the side where we
are sure the well was.
An old fellow with one arm was living there. He said we
were welcome to look. Told us there was a stob sticking out of the ground
with a coffee can over it. He said, he guessed that was the well. How he
got his water, I did not ask. If he only knew what good water was there.
We could not really tell where her house had been, it
had all grown full of oaks and weeds. I asked him if there were any
squirrels in the area. He said, "I haven't seen a squirrel in years." The
old pond that the conservation folks had dug on the side of the rocky hill
was completely gone, just some scrub brush growing in it. We did not get
out and go to it, we could see it from the road. Remember standing in that
pond, toes squeezing thru the red clay, letting the little perch nibble on
my legs. Only other use for it was throwing the old loose cane bottom
chairs into it, to tighten them up. :) The cows would rather drink from
Lou Anne Allen