ABSTRACT
There are seemingly insignificant, almost mundane events in our lives that take on deeper meanings as we grow older. These childhood memories become markers by which we gauge other moments in our lives. They become our own personal legends. This is one of them: In my childhood eyes, I remember my grandmother leading me down a hill near our old farmstead to a place where there was a natural flowing spring. We would go there often, and she would
always tell me that this was the place her parents got their drinking water before the days of wells and indoor plumbing, and that before her parents homesteaded the land, the Indians probably came there for the cold, fresh water.
