She worked as hard as most had ever seen, and breakdowns in the fray were almost nil. Ol' Sally was the wheel of the machine that crushed the wheat and barley in the mill. Though Jess, the owner, named her for his aunt, a battle axe that wouldn't take his guff, Ol' Sally, once the pride of all Vermont, had kept rapport with those around its bluff. For years Ol' Sally ground her powdered meal, without complaint, outlasting market trends; her bakeries had lost their great appeal, as corporations brought about their ends. A farmer rescued Sal from rot and mold, preserved, her stories finally are told.
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AuthorJack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana. Archives
December 2019
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