In the middle of Mill stream, just below what we call "Firehouse Falls," stands this persistent, once tiny, tree. For five years now, we have watched: slabs of winter ice, high waters of spring, trunks of ancient elders crashing by; yet, she stands, unbelievably, on a most unlikely island woven by her ancestors. She draws strength from history's grace and gifts. Once again, she wears the glittering shawl of this pristine holiday season.
What's your favorite place to be in the springtime? Share it with us