Spring rain is coming down outside in long strands. A peaceful, continuous hum soaks this valley - it's farm folds of newly turned soil, the forest lush of mixed natural vegetation, sprouts of 'dinner-weeds' and brier rose patches.
As I step into the giant mill I see Steve the electrician on his ladder. His things are neatly laid around the periphery of the kitchen.
Heathcote's mill is from the 19th century, when women wore long skirts and aprons on a regular basis. It is four stories high, if the two attics with ceilings, high enough at the point for an adult to stand under, are considered.
This afternoon, historically modern changes are being applied to Heathcote's central community building, bringing it up to code with the 21st century. Today, 'Exit' signs are being installed over the reclaimed and historic feeling doors.
The 'Exit' signs are equipped with eco-conscious LED lights and look to me, ironically, like the color of a neon-fire-engine. One may take their directives and walk out to the asphalt driveway/road that is exceptionally black with wetness this afternoon - it leads to the farmhouse and to the cabin that's been around longer than the mill, one may take the sign's directive to the spring green yard before the river, or walk out to the small forest garden with a classic clothes line between posts and with bunches of Double Daffodils sprouting and smiling around native rainbow-stones with sparkles of silica, and rain drops.