Last Month I Dreamed I Went To Baileyville Again*
“Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, what valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place.” Toni Morrison, The Site of Memory.
Present. Past is underfoot, like a river with currents unseen.
Water views, eyebrow clouds. Yes, that’s part of my hand in the foreground.
A page from the past, before highways and flood control. “In the vicinity of Dutch Point.” (Note the pattern over the image, that’s on purpose.)
That was then. Bison and pose, Mohawk Trail. In 2021, a visit to the same place now called Catamount Traders led to another expedition, stories, talking business, and pure fun finding the “skeleton” frame of this same bison. That story continues, linked here.
Gazing out the window all these thoughts combine and my hands want a keyboard to get words out. But the weekend approached, with a choice to go visit a place so far away, it was once deemed impossible to drive there in the family station wagon. Much has changed in the years that passed. So, goal and destination set. Connecting communities, telling stories, small businesses. Tap, tap, tap. Wait. We are there.
Editor’s note: This story has been archived; a portion updated.
*With apologies to Daphne Du Maurier–who, of course, wrote that immortal opening sentence for Rebecca, and the words that followed: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and a chain upon the gate.” Barred, as is our access to the past except through recollections, stories and images, writing and sharing.