two historic gristmills

The other day, my husband and I hopped into his newly-acquired red convertible and drove to Canada. Our destination? Ottawa -with a few unplanned stops along the way!

Only a few miles past the border, we encountered the historic town of Spencerville. This beautiful grist mill is a museum. It beckoned to us. We pulled off the highway to stretch our legs and to see how our new convertible looked in the parking lot next to this lovely stone mill.

The college student who was our informative guide showed us around the place. Here on the ground floor is some of the mechanism that brings the power from the water to the grindstones.

I appreciated this antique advertisement that was on the wall of the mill.

Outside, a few of the time-worn millstones are on display. If you are a follower of this blog, you know my infatuation with such things.

Amazingly enough, we only drove a few more miles when we spotted a sign for another historic mill. This one is in Manotick, Ontario. It was a perfect day; sunny and breezy. Just the right kind of weather for an outdoor lunch with a view of the river and the mill!

We enjoyed the free tour and the displays. I learned a lot about how a gristmill works. I must admit, I am still a little foggy about the whole process. (This is a girl who buys her flour in a bag from King Arthur!)

Here is a nifty do-dad thing-a-ma bob, without which a farmer cannot obtain milled flour from his wheat. Neither can he get milled grain from his corn. The lever controls the placement of the topmost grist-stone.

This photo shows them apart. The grinding happens in between them, like a sandwich. Cool, huh?

This is the hopper. I know that grain gets poured into it. I'm not sure about exactly where in the process this happens. But I DO know that this mechanism does NOT hop.

Give me credit for that, anyway.

We will be coming back with the kiddos sometime soon, you betcha. And then Ben will explain it all to me very slowly with carefully chosen words that don't freeze my non-mechanically inclined brain.

I love the fact that there was a working gristmill just outside my window. I love hearing the waterfalls all night long, remembering how valuable their power was to a town such as ours, so very long ago. After touring these two humble museums, I understand a little bit more what it was all about.