Ahhh! Springtime in the Ozarks!

       Wildflower Falls after the snow

     The snow started at daybreak.  We watched as the first few flakes fell, followed by more and larger flakes--big, fluffy, puffs-- until suddenly the ground was white--much like a soft, white blanket had quietly covered the mountain.  The weather man had predicted this even though the calendar said "first day of Spring".  And, I had already removed my "Let It Snow" sign from the yard.  (I was just about to put up the "Welcome Spring" sign.)   

     What a wonderful gift!  It was Sunday and we couldn't get off the mountain, and we really didn't care!  Our cabin guests couldn't either, and decided to take the extra night we had open.  The snow didn't let up--this was the "perfect snowday".  And, I always enjoy "snow days".  It goes back to my school days as a student and later as a teacher.  My philosophy is that there are no bad snow days!  Some of the local schools may argue that since all regular snow days are used up, each additional day they loose will be made up on Saturday (Oh, No! Saturday school!) or extended the year into summer (Oh, No! Summer school!)  None the less, we can't stop the snow from falling even if we want to, and I don't want to!

      It snowed, and snowed, and snowed--just big, soft flakes--no howling winds, no extreme temperatures.  It was soon apparent that this was a "Big" snow day.  The lights flickered so we set out the candles--didn't need them!  Our neighbor called to say as expected the mama goat went into labor and had twins in the snow. She says they always wait until bad weather!  She moved them in the shed and they are now up and going strong.
     Soon, the yard was ankle deep, then knee deep in snow.  The little yellow daffodils in the flowerbeds bravely held their heads up as long as possible, then disappeared under a blanket of snow.  Note:  Three days later, they are back and looking better than ever!  (Snow has nitrogen that makes everything greener when it melts.)  Daisy was up to her neck in snow and loved it.  She made little "hops" as she ran, checking for critter scents. (Even the critters had more "sense" than to be out, but she didn't know that :-)

     Eventually, we measured 14 inches of snow with drifts up to 24 inches in places.  Probably a record for this day.  A wonderful memory. 

     It began to melt on Monday, slowly at first then so fast it sounded like rain falling.  Water pooled up in the yard in places that never have puddles.  Little streams of water everywhere--in the ditches, through the rocks, in the middle of the roads--and, waterfalls everywhere--large and small!

     We were standing on the porch when Jack said, "Quiet, listen!"  It was the sound of water gushing through the rocks.  It was our Wildflower Falls roaring down the mountain on its way to Kenner Creek, Osage Creek, and beyond.  This happens only when there is a huge rainfall, or, in this case snowfall.  Our Eagle's Rest Cabin guests can hear it even better from their vantage point.)

     I had to see the falls for my self.  We rode down part way on the four-wheelers, then slipped and slidded the rest of the way down the hill.  The above picture is some of what we saw, but, as they always say, "You had to be there!"

Happy Spring!

He makes springs pour water into ravines:

It flows between the mountains...

He waters the mountains from His upper chambers:

the earth is satisfied by the friut of His work.

                                        Psalm 104: 10,11,13

    

A Host of Golden Daffodils

Wild Vic's Cabin

In spite of cold and chills

that usher in the early spring

We have the daffodils.

                                                               Kikurio, Japanese writer

     The above photo was taken on the trail just off Hemmed-In-Hollow Falls Trail.  If you look carefully, you will see where someone long ago planted daffodils around the cabin and through out the yard.  Must have been Wild Vic's wife!  Or some female who wanted a little beauty in such a remote, lonely place.  As I walked around the cabin, it was apparent that she not only planted the flowers, she had designed a  garden with stone-lined paths and even a little spring flowing through. I pictured the industrious woman digging as best she could in the extremely stony ground.  I can appreciate the hard work that she put into bringing a little beauty to the stark surroundings. 

     Just imagine the stories that cabin could tell!  Inside, there was an old wood cookstove and some pots.  (Saddly, on our next visit, someone had taken (stolen!) them.  There was a tree trunk with sawed off branches fastened to the floor in the middle of the very small room.  It made an unusual ladder leading to the even smaller loft!  The old shutters, which  were still hanging on the outside wall, sufficed for windows as there was no sign of glass windows.  I think I will delve into some Newton County history books for more information on Wild Vic.  Anyone with such a name should have an interesting story, as would any woman who lived with him!

     We just returned from a trip to southern Mississippi and the coast.  We drove along the coastal road where we saw so much Hurrican Katrina destruction.  Five years later there are signs of rebuilding and coming back.  However, there are still those deserted, vacant lots where beautiful gardens once thrived.  Usually in those garden remains are little daffodils--yellow blooms standing bravely, bringing color and beauty and hope to anyone who passes--signs of  lives once lived in that place.  If only they could tell the stories of times gone by--of gentle southern families--parties in the gardens, sweet gulf breezes on the porch, and just across the street  that beautiful, and sometimes deadly ocean.  Again, I am imagining the stories those daffodils could tell.

    Just walked outside--cold wind blowing across the yard--and I saw the first sign of spring on our mountain.  It was those little yellow daffodils struggling to hold their heads up searching for a ray of the not-to-be-found sunshine.  They haven't grown there in my yard that long, but as time goes on hopefully there will be stories to tell about life at Mountain Springs Cabins.  Happy stories of the family who loves the mountain and of the guest who come to visit.

    

Daffodils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take

The winds of March with beauty.

    Shakespeare