Pool at Kings River FallsAfter a long spell of temperatures in the single digits and wind speeds in the double digits, we woke up Sunday morning to sunshine and mild temps! Cabin Fever had hit us hard the last two weeks. To make it worse, we had spent the last week cleaning and arranging (again!) the basement. This is a job we do once a year when the 'to do' list demands it. Jack put up another set of shelves, and I filled them. Finally, we can see some real progress. Of course, the throw away/give away stuff outside the door is still there. It makes no sense whatsoever, but it seems like we have been working on that basement ever since we moved in seven years ago!
So, we escaped for the day to one of the most beautiful places I have seen in a while--Kings River Falls, part of the system of state "natural areas". It is maintained by the Arkansas Natural Heritage Commission and the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission. (It is nice to see our tax dollars working here!) It has been on our list of places to go for some time, and we will definitely be back in the summer. It is located in Madison County and takes about an hour from our house to drive across Cave Mountain to the little community of Boston, where we turn on to county roads for the rest of the way. The drive was pleasant and we were in no hurry.
We were fascinated with the rock formations, the beautiful turquoise pool below the falls, the falls themselves, and the witch hazel bushes blooming along the edge of the water. The trail followed a fenced in pasture with an old farm house on the far side. In one corner of the pasture was a family cemetery, surrounded by an iron pipe fence, and a very large barn that looked as if it could come crashing down any minute. This was all on private land and, therefore, off limits. I noticed some signs of work in progress that makes one hopeful that the farmstead will be restored, at least in part.
I could imagine the old farm in better days. Summertime--cows grazing in the field, chickens scratching around the barnyard, the farmer calling to his mules as he plows the large garden near the house, his wife hanging out the week's washing--she catches the sweet scent of lilacs blooming near the fence. In the distance, a gently wind blows through the trees, and there is the ever present sound of rushing water as the river makes it way over large and small boulders on it way through the mountains. And, maybe, there is the happy sound of children playing in one of the many river pools glad for the freedom of summer. Down the road we saw an old school house--Dripping Springs, 1921, says the sign still hanging over the door.
No doubt the pastoral life on the farm as I envisioned it, was often wrought with sadness and hard times. The cemetery testifies to that. But, on this day, in 2009, I can imagine all was well, as it as with us when we made our way along the river trail.
"The days that make us happy make us wise." John Masefield
