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Folks in these parts have been marrying their stories to this old covered bridge for at least seven generations. By the measures of kin, that would be your great-grandmother's great-grandmother's mother. They carved their initials, maybe a date or a name if it were short enough. Sweetest perhaps are those lovers' hearts- etched on the woven trusses that shielded kisses from the censure of a stricter time.
There's no malice in the act of these carvings, nothing as intentional as vandalism. Mind you, don't you go carving on that bridge. Treat it like a memorial of a kind, respectful of those who forged this place and then preserved it. More it seems that "HEM" and "Steven & Penny" sought an eternal connection to this mystical place, where trees cool the summer heat and the sound of wooden planks surf the river and echo soft and rhythmic as you ride or run or bike over them. So much so, you turn at the end and go back the other way just to hear the lullaby. It seems those old etchers believed the bridge could carry them long after they themselves had crossed from this world. And, so far, they were right. This bridge has a touch of immortality to it-it has survived the worst nature and politics and war and man's neglect could conjure and that rightfully should have destroyed it.
Yet it stands, and it remembers "HEM" and "HAYES" and the awkward, tender heart of "Steven & Penny." It holds a whole lot of stories, even more than those etched in its bones.Hewn on these pages are just a few of the most well-known. If you long for more stories, the ones that whisper just under written history and textbooks and genealogy records, then settle for a spell on the banks of the ancient creek and watch the shadows of stonework dance the tide and listen to the breeze. Those old trees are apt to rustle out a few more tales.
