The Dellinger Grist Mill Metaphor

In the summer of 2016 my wife Catheryn, and I, after a morning hike on Roan Mountain, one of the highest peaks of the Blue Ridge. stopped in the tiny town of Bakersville, NC for lunch at Helen’s Restaurant. A fellow came in with an armful of corn meal sacks, and left them on the counter. I asked the server where the sacks came from, and she said “an old mill down the road.” She said the delivery man, Jack, actually ran the mill, and we’d catch him…