The mill race
Among the curious aspects of Fairfield is that its history is so disjointed that we have to make it up as we go along. Part of that is due to the nature of life. Trees grow, get old, end up on the back side of a saw, become firewood and Ö years later, somebody finds a picture. The tree was there, then not. Life generally is pretty ordinary in that respect. We donít realize how ďout of dateĒ our cars have become until we look back and marvel at the old beasts.
So, the old adage that a picture tells a thousand stories can apply to our town. We really have nothing to go on now, except our memories and the pictures and stories that go with them. Pictures help. They tell us something, though maybe not enough. But itís our story, our history, our memories and we can, by golly, do whatever we like, canít we?
I am reminded by Gayther Plummer, who has sent me incredible storiesand images, that the old mill race that ran alongside the river didnít exist after a time. Where did it go and why did it go? Obviously at some point, it was no longer needed, having served the mill that sat on the townís south side. The 1880s map clearly shows it.
This picture shows a little bridge that crossed it, sometime in the early part of the 20th century.
Our best guess is that the flood of 1913 either took out the mill race, the mill itself or both. Or it may have been filled in to prevent future flooding.
Probably at the time, that was just life being generally pretty ordinary. Events occurred, people moved on and adapted. Years later, somebody wonders Ö nobody remembered to write it down because it didnít matter at the time.