Stewart was mowing the front meadow field up to Norman Cameron's old place and I drove up to give him the time of day and get a few photos on one of the most glorious days that God gives to mere mortal men. Mr. Cameron is long gone and the new owner's now have the place and its' feeling of being one with the village in its' day. The trestle bridge, known as long as I can remember as the 'old bridge' and beyond it an even newer bridge which has replaced the old 'new bridge', backdrop the Black River and the Grand River respectively - although in actuality Black River is more like an offshoot of Grand River up into a fair sized lovely lake-like body of water in which long ago in the late 70's I watched an even half dozen of otter swimming, diving, and playing in general in front of my old second-hand much patched fiberglass canoe. Across the river and up on the hill you can see the Presbyterian Church and the old elementary school where Stewart and my son Shawn spent many a learned day with Mrs. xxxxxxx. Today the school is a small group of apartments. And there, just to the right of the 'old bridge', is Cameron's old Store now long since closed and awaiting a happier fate I hope.
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