Uncle Lennie and Aunt Corrine took me to see their friend's grist mill this afternoon, up in the country north of Jefferson.
Hugh and his wife grind grits and corn meal in the mill,
located just down the hill from this rustic home.
Phil Robertson ain't got nothing on this guy.
The water spills from the lake over a dam down to into a babbling brook.
The family shoots potatoes out of this cannon.
Lennie contributed this old generator. I didn't get a good picture of the wonderful front porch, overlooking the quiet lake.
Last week Hugh's son Miller married his fiancé Jean here in front of the mill. The newlyweds had gone to high school with Ceil.
Obligatory panoramic shot.
The mill's eastern wall.
Before we visited the mill we shot targets at Hugh's outdoor shooting range. The group gathers on Saturday afternoon at a sandy section of their property, also a great spot for four-wheeling.
Corrine doesn't mess with automatic pistols, instead firing her six-shooter. I shot three different pistols and did ok.
Hit all five targets in the black and Hugh will cast a pistol with your name on it. Hit the bulls-eye all five times and he paints the handle white.
Don't tell his wife, but Eric has over 200 guns.
Didn't seem right for me to mention my 200 bobbleheads.
A grainy photo, but the CRV got 150 MPG on the drive up. For a while. Actually it got worse than usual, due to several factors we'll go over next week.
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