Story and photos by
Lin Stone
| Even the remote part of Van Buren County that I moved into -- from Noble Oklahoma -- was inhabited by white people
years before
Arkansas became a state. They lived here without air
conditioning, central heat, indoor plumbing, social security
benefits or taxes, and still survived. Much has changed since that long ago
day and age. Now mules are raised for pleasure, not for drawing
wagons. Our best food nut tree back then was wiped out in the
same epidemic that destroyed all our American chestnut trees.
Today you can find a camel, and a zebra grazing here. Clinton is the county seat of Van Buren County. My next door neighbor has been there several times. He says that the town of Clinton is five miles long. Clinton is definitely big enough to get lost in, although a sign says there are only 2,000 and some odd people living here. I've only seen one stop light in town and it sure is needed with so many tourists whistling Dixie through here that every chicken in town has put up a squawk about having to cross the road.
The first thing I have noticed after moving up here is that the mountains quiver during severe thunderstorms. There is a beautiful tree that just started growing in this area.
These red tufted seedlings has
fruit kind of
like
a chestnut tree when they are grown. The native plant specialist says these are Red Buckeye
You can believe this or not if you don't want to but I stopped off at the court house my first week here on some kind of voting day and this car drove up behind me. Unsuspecting a thing I paused near the open window and asked directions to the phone company office. A girl was driving. She flashed the most beautiful smile I've seen on this earth; I mean bar none and nothing else anywhere close. She then leaped from the car to show me the way. Now, I don't have any idea what she looked like because after I'd walked off fifty feet or more away from her I was still half blind from receiving that smile. |

Go Betsey, GO!
Sometimes it feels like everybody up here is getting rich.
Natural gas, oil. Gee Whillikers
What is a dear little doe to do?
If
you don't mind sharing space with a little friend or two
Then the woods of Van Buren County have
some of the most restful home sites in America.
My friend Charlie there is a harmless corn snake.
I first met him about a hundred feet from the house.
Charlie took an instant liking to me and followed me home.
The mice began to disappear and Charlie now sleeps in the dryer.
Snakes have been known to produce an occasional burst of sibilant song
but you never hear one yowl like a cat and most snakes don't have
dandruff
either.
A snake or two might drop down with the air filter
when you check on the
attic fan
but you can go twice as long between
checks because the hair shed by a snake
won't clog up the filter like
those wads of hair that fall off a cat's
back.
Snakes also make great watchdogs.
The dryer sits right
beside the front door. If Charlie is at
home and that
front door opens he sticks his head out to
see if it is me.
I haven't seen anyone yet that is fast enough
to get a foot
inside before Charlie goes slithering down the
back of their
shirt. If there are any mice hiding down there,
Charlie will find them sooner or later.
After that first
professional body search,
I make dang sure Charlie knows it
is me, before I step foot inside.
The Archey is smoky in color and offers fine swimming opportunities in many spots.

| On the bad news side of the ledger you can't look out the
window without a
back-biting tick taking another lick. Down at Toad Suck this year the word is that toads have gone on strike. I haven't seen any toads crossing the picket line up here either but the Bull Frog Amphibian Brigade is tuning up for battle. Bullfrog tadpoles are even hatching out in the creeks that won't rise.
Yes,
This morning there was a major disturbance in the atmosphere. A bolt of lightning sizzled up from the ground outside and leaped into the sky to embrace a chunk of lightning streaking down from the clouds. What a crack of doom exploded. The whole house shook. Had I unplugged the computer? Did I need to unplug the phone? By the time I determined that YES, I had unplugged the computer, lightning was flashing, thunder crashing, rain lashing, and I was chortling with glee because it had woke me up. Oh Gee, I should record how wonderful I feel. Of course, I cannot use the big computer because of the danger – but I have the little laptop computer. So I came in here and, despite it being so dark, it is indeed wonderful to be alive to witness this thrashing Mother Nature is giving us. So, I sit me down — and promptly discover that without light I can’t make tales or heads appear on my screen. That is frustrating and I find myself wishing the storm would abate so that I could record how wonderful I feel during this thrashing. By this time I am ready to curse the same Mother Nature I had risen from my warm bed to record my joy of meeting. By the time I get me safely set down again Mother Nature has gone off in a huff and denied me the privilege of recording first hand how glad I was to sit here unafraid, enjoying the display of raw power that can sizzle my big computer in one shuddering second while frying everything connected to the phone line. Henry Thoreau never had these problems. His little pencil was safe in his little shack beside the pond. In a scribble it never failed him. He could munch on a morsel of unleavened bread and count the pennies per year that he was saving. Of course, a penny would buy a whole pound of tobacco back then, not that Henry was ever dumb enough to indulge in such a waste. |

Dreams are what Drive the nation.
My dream is to be down in the meadow on the 4-wheeler when a big bear charges out of the woods. He is big enough to think he owns this place and it is essential he be taught a lesson immediately.
A good bear can outrun a great race horse for the first fifty yards but this one is just about to get his hind end hacked off and he is squealing for mercy as the nose of my 4-wheeler nips at his hind heels. We are flying so fast that my long hair is flung back by the torrents of wind being scooped up by the fearless charge.
Just bearly in time, he dives into the woods and hides behind a tree to defecate. Then I turn myself around and I am shocked to see the best camera man in Hollywood has caught this moment of blazing glory, religiously filming it all as he raced to keep up with my wild charge. A gopher girl stands beside him with an empty can to put the film in. With eyes gleaming she glances my way and says: "My hero." Humbled absolutely mute by all the unwanted attention, I skirt my way around the camera and head for home to await the adventures of another day. |
There is a ridge at the top of High Council Bluff little wider than needed
for two pickups to pass. Then the other side drops off just as sheer
as
the side you see here. There are caves in this area, but most of
them
are
so small I call them cavities.


White light and yellow flowers
last spring, summer and fall.
the end
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