The Willow Hill Covered Bridge is a covered bridge located off U.S. Route 30 that spans Miller’s Run (which flows into Mill Creek, a tributary of the Conestoga River) in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, United States. It was built in 1962 by Roy Zimmerman as a reconstruction using parts of the Miller's Farm Covered Bridge, built in 1871 by Elias McMellen, and Good's Fording Covered Bridge, built in 1855. It crosses Mill Creek and is 93 feet long and 15 feet wide.
The bridge has a single span, wooden, double Burr arch trusses design with the addition of steel hanger rods. It is painted red, the traditional color of Lancaster County covered bridges, on the outside. The inside is unpainted. Both approaches to the bridge are painted in the traditional white color.
The bridge's WGCB Number is 38-36-43. Because it was constructed from two historic covered bridges, it is not listed on the National Register of Historic Places like most of the other covered bridges in the county. It is located at 40°1′30″N 76°12′11.9″W / 40.025°N 76.203306°W / 40.025; -76.203306.
Read more about Willow Hill Covered Bridge: Dimensions, Gallery
Famous quotes containing the words willow, hill, covered and/or bridge:
“Ah! I have penetrated to those meadows on the morning of many a first spring day, jumping from hummock to hummock, from willow root to willow root, when the wild river valley and the woods were bathed in so pure and bright a light as would have waked the dead, if they had been slumbering in their graves, as some suppose. There needs no stronger proof of immortality. All things must live in such a light. O Death, where was thy sting? O Grave, where was thy victory, then?”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend
Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!
The sea swept on and cried her old cry still,
Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill.
He fled the persecution of her glory....”
—William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)
“Our own country furnishes antiquities as ancient and durable, and as useful, as any; rocks at least as well covered with lichens, and a soil which, if it is virgin, is but virgin mould, the very dust of nature. What if we cannot read Rome or Greece, Etruria or Carthage, or Egypt or Babylon, on these; are our cliffs bare?”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“A circle swoop, and a quick parabola under the bridge arches
Where light pushes through;
A sudden turning upon itself of a thing in the air.
A dip to the water.”
—D.H. (David Herbert)