Just like nothing (else) on earth: Waterford Mill

By Tim Jon

This—I thought—is pretty much quintessential 21st Century Loudoun County: a hurried motorist speeding by—within just a few inches—of an historic relic, which has stood so long that many of us may be forgiven for temporarily forgetting its otherwise quite formidable presence. 

Yeah, I know, that’s a lotta words and images and other literary stuff, but you gotta remember we’re dealing—here—with a large, one-of-a-kind piece of the past, nestled in a very special place. The Waterford Mill—my sources tell me—dates back nearly 275 years (and, no—those aren’t dog years, cat years, or lizard years—those are regular old, human years); that puts this iconic structure in place more than 15 years prior to the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Before the United States of America. That’s some old stuff. And it’s still standing, looking mighty strong. 

Sure, the day of my last visit, some major renovations were underway, the Mill’s flywheel had been hoisted out of its ancient bed, sections of the grounds were fenced off for professional improvements, and it was certainly “offline” as far as any formal tours were concerned. 

That suited my needs just fine, as I merely wanted to collect a number of images on the camera and a similar number of impressions on the personal memory banks and emotional sounding board. The historic structure and the grounds it rested on seemed—to my finding—to be resting; no doubt, this working mill had, back in the day, done its share of grain-grinding, and I’m sure we can expect plenty of human activity around the place whenever the present-day restoration wraps up, and we see a return to public access and formal tours. 

The overall Village of Waterford can do that to the human senses: settled in the early 1700s—yes, I said early 1700s—the unincorporated community follows set guidelines on building codes and other developmental practices—which can almost lead the casual visitor to feel like he or she has stepped back in time—very far back in time. So, yes, I thoroughly enjoyed my meandering stroll around the Mill property, avoiding any potential working hazards exposed from all the current activity. 

These visits are—for me—a special treat, as I spend most of my workdays lifting, running, driving, sorting, and otherwise turning my fingers and hands into the consistency of ground beef. My current profession (US Postal delivery) dates back almost as far as the Waterford Mill and its surrounding community, but I would imagine that’s where most similarities come to a grinding halt, no pun intended. 

So, where some would find boredom in the peace, silence, and lack of general activity in a place like the Waterford Mill property, I revel in the ability to mosey along at as slow a pace as I (or my surroundings) choose; I could stop at any point to check on a potential dramatic angle, ripe for capture on the camera lens, savor an early-morning bird song, notice the clouds moving at a similar pace across the sky—or just do nothing at all, except wait for that certain sound, image, or inner impression to change the entire day. No, not very marketable, but, for me, quite remarkable. And memorable; if we are truly composed of our own personal memories, I’ve got quite a trove of treasure, made up of local visits of interest like this, and others not like this. 

And, after I’d circled the entire Mill property and decided to make my way back into the 21st Century and re-enter my car, I encountered that aforementioned morning rush-hour commuter, whizzing by this early 18th Century structure, and the juxtaposition of these two items—car and mill—struck me as—in many ways—what Loudoun County is all about: the harmony of dis-harmony in our modern lives; as the former news director at the former local radio station, I remember creating news stories on aerospace companies, chicken propagation, higher education, outdoor plumbing (dare I say, outhouses?) the President of the United States, and the history of African American slavery—all in the sequence of just a few days. 

So, when I return to the Waterford Mill (perhaps after I’ve retired from my current postal slogging), and can enjoy the relative bustle of tour groups and casual sightseers milling about the place (there I go again), I will remember to stop, look, and listen for that special image, or sound, or inner impression to once again transform my entire day; that catalyst may be you—hurrying by in that shiny new four-wheeler—or perhaps, flying by in your own personal drone, or traveling through in some yet-so-be-invented conveyance. Yup, that’s Loudoun County, Virginia.