From Chalk bluff on the Jacks Fork… …to Rocky Falls and Blue Spring…
On the fence
about floating in the Ozarks tomorrow.
But the greatest of these…
Hartville. Welcomed by the café’s official dress code–jeans and ball caps–I felt at home on Rolla Street next to Bullfrogs Pawn, bathed in the aroma of bean soup and the promise of blue plate specials. Betty always dreamed of owning … Read More
Erifnus turned 16 this year. Now she can drive all by herself. So I can take a nap tomorrow as we motor to an early morning casting call on the Little Niangua River.
Chicken with a Freight Train
Beyond the vanishing point over the horizon, the wind blew a faint train whistle up the tracks. The train was saying hello to the Houston House–the best place for fried chicken when I was a kid. As the engine rolled … Read More
A Different View of Branson
Sunset from the strip, with storm clouds and kudzu.
Cresting a hill we began our descent, curving and swerving downhill, face to face with vistas through the tall pines and hardwoods. Along this highway at the tips of its gravel spines, springs and waterfalls push to form their own … Read More
Sycamores mostly, some a hundred years old, peeled off the banks and sent like torpedoes downriver to collect together as Mother Nature’s art.
Jacks Fork Rescue
The Jacks Fork was high and so was I–paddler’s high–when we heard the screams for help. Three young innertubers were stranded on the bank. They’d lost everything: tubes, cooler, flipflops and cell phones. Yes, cell phones. On a break from … Read More