The host at our B&B told us where we could purchase a blanket just like the one we had slept under. It was made from the wool of his own sheep. On the bedroom wall hung an old black and white print of a lady in a long dress, shepherd’s crook in hand, leading a flock of sheep down a country lane.
While trying to locate the MacAusland Mill in Bloomfield, we stopped to watch a farmer’s large potato cleaning equipment in operation at the edge of a reddish field. A conveyor belt moved the potatoes upward through a cleaning and trimming process, dropping clean tubers into the bin of a truck stationed below.
It was noon when we arrived at the mill, and the looms were silent.
“Go ahead. Walk through,” the staff called out nonchalantly, seated around a table for lunch.
What a joy it was to select a blanket for our very own. What can I say? The warmth of a wool blanket can be compared only to the dry heat of a wood-burning fireplace. Nothing better!
May you, too, experience PEI’s tranquility when BESIDE THE STILL WATERS graces your wall.