On the second floor of the former casket plant, which was retrofitted with a conveyor system to coat finished products.
The dry house is in the worse condition of the remaining buildings. This is where miners would change clothes.
Without a roof, the bricks were being washed away in the later years of the roundhouse.
After a short rainfall douses the mill in downtown Fergus Falls, the river next to the brick walls swells and the sounds of water overtakes the echos of the nearby bars. Reflections are on the foundation of the former distribution and rail building.
Heavy wood doors for keeping people in.
A few of the stalls in the older section of the roundhouse, the noon sky peeking in.
Shadows of the timberwork and cribbing are cast across cracked lake ice. My footprints follow cat tracks.