When the leaves are off the trees, you can see this old oil derrick on the hill across the river from our farm. It’s on Frank’s place. He has a hunting cabin up the hill (his house is at the bottom), and this old derrick is just above it. These old derricks were supposed to be taken down, for safety reasons, but a few still exist, scattered in forgotten rural hills. (You can see our derrick, which is on our hill near our house, here.)
The derrick pictured above (in a photo I took last year when the leaves were off) is one of the derricks in this photo:
I think it’s the one I pointed the arrow to, but we can never decide for sure if it’s that one or the one just to the right of it. Trees blur the ridgeline these days and make it difficult to pinpoint a spot on photos of cleared hills. It’s always amazing to me to imagine the activity of the tiny bustling community, complete with school, church, several stores, boardinghouse, gasoline plant, and more that once existed here, and I feel envious of those who saw it then and grateful at least for their stories.