The Miller

Mark and I went for a wander around the hills to reflect on our options. On our way back to the farm, we passed by an old mill in the valley. It looked to have been converted into a house and was fed by an ancient stone canal system. As we hiked past, an old man appeared from nowhere and hailed us. In perfect Spanglish, we greeted each other and he introduced himself as Amable, the miller.

I felt like I had somehow slipped into a Cormac McCarthy novel. Amable, accompanied by his beautiful little cat Nica, launched into a speech about the centuries old mill, millennia old canals, and how dangerously unforgiving he is when anyone tries to dump rubbish nearby. He has spent several decades and many thousands restoring and maintaining the waterways. There was a mischievous spark in his eyes as he repeated his warning about respecting the land.

It seemed to me like there was more wisdom to this man. As we parted ways, I was contemplative of his simplicity, dedication, and stubbornness. I later heard from Mrs. Host that he was known to fire rifle shots in the air when he took a dislike to someone.