4/1/99 Someone was singing a lullaby to me as my brain came to life. There was no sunrise outside my window, but there was a bird, perched on a nearby limb, singing his heart out. I think it was a junco. Could he have been crying out for FOOD, or just welcoming me back to the cabin? I took it as a sign to get up and see what April was all about. Oh yea, there was also a serviceberry tree in bloom a few feet from my head - brilliant white.

I had some yogurt and Grape Nuts and a banana for breakfast. It seemed warm as I stepped outside (63 degrees), but the wind was howling - up in the 30mph range - which made it a little chilly. I sat on my own little perch and marveled at all the movement out in the air space in front of me. Even though it was just barely daylight, there were a dozen or more soaring birds out playing in the wind. Mostly buzzards, but there were a few hawks too. And there were little birds, several different species, darting back and forth in the meadow below.

Hey, there was a bluebird! And he flew right past one of the little houses and landed in a nearby tree. I got out the telescope and examined him. He had something in his mouth. I zoomed in close. He had either one of those green strands of something that grows on oak trees at this time of the year, or a caterpillar. And he kept tossing it up in the air and catching it, then tossing it back up again. He was very serious about this business. I wasn't sure what the heck he was doing. Every two or three tosses he would pause and look in my direction, as if to ask what the heck I was looking at.

He must have done this twenty or more times, and I eventually realized that whatever it was he was tossing was growing LONGER! What? Looked to be about two inches long. Then in one quick flip of his beak, and a big gulp that I swear I could hear, he tossed the object up in the air and inhaled the entire thing - it disappeared in a split second. I had to look twice to see that it was all gone. Sure enough. It had to have been a caterpillar. But why was he biting on it and tossing it up in the air? It remained in one piece. The only thing that I can think of is that he was tenderizing it, just like a piece of meat. Or trying to smash it down so that it wasn't so big around. At any rate, the entire scene was a treat for this porch sitter to witness. Now, if he can only get his mate to take up residence in one of my houses - the caterpillar supply will be great.

I turned my attention to a very large red-tailed hawk that was soaring nearby. I watched him through the binocs, as he rode the wind currents with his outstretched arms. All he had to do was curve one of his wingtips just a little, and he went sailing off in a different direction. Such beauty. Such grace. Please let me be a hawk in the next life.

As I looked around I could see eleven serviceberries that were in bloom right in my little backyard. And some of the mature trees out in the wilderness were beginning to take an individual tree shape - budding out some. These were the first that I had noticed this year.

There were lots of clouds, but the sun managed to break through ever now and then, sending a shaft of life down into the forest. Moving clouds often create a real light show.

There were many chores on tap for me today, but I decided to get out and walk around a little before I got too serious. Then I realized that I could do both. I grabbed a roll of flagging tape and headed on up towards the East Meadow. Since this is one of the routes that I use the most, I need to get a trail built here soon. Within about ten minutes I had the route flagged all the way to the meadow. Nothing fancy, no SSS's, but just a nice stroll through the woods. It will take a bit of work to construct, but that will be the fun part. There were about a hundred trout lilies along one stretch, but none of them were in bloom yet. In fact, there were very flew wildflowers in bloom up this high.

Everywhere I walked there were birds. Lots of birds. Calling out into the woods, flying from tree to tree, soaring overhead. I counted about thirteen different species in twenty minutes, although I couldn't ID them all.

I went by the Faddis Cabin and then Bob's, looking for a little digging tool. I found it in the little old log shed at Bob's, the one that the bear broke into last summer. There was this old homestead nearby that had a large patch of daylilies that I wanted to borrow a few of to plant at my place (on private land - can't dig wildflowers in the wilderness). On the way back to the cabin, I stopped and got out a few clumps of the plants and loaded them up in my pack.

The wild plums and the peaches were really coming out in full force. The peach blossoms were very colorful and striking. There seem to be lots of wild plums up here, but I don't recall ever seeing any of the fruit. Now that I know the trees, I will keep my eyes open as summer approaches.

On the way back I found a nice red bud tree, in full bloom, that had been knocked over by another large tree as it fell from the ice storm. After about five minutes of heavy dragging and a bit of cursing, I was able to remove the larger tree and free the redbud.

I took up my seat on the back deck again. Now the valley was full of smaller hawks - three of them all flying in formation. Round and round and up and up they went. Then they dove back down again.

I brought out a new addition to the cabin with me. Actually several. One thing was a 31' runner, three feet wide. I unrolled it in the great room, and it stretches all the way from the front door to the back door. Now you can walk through the cabin without getting on the wood floor. Still no shoes inside though!

And my truck was packed to the gills with PLANTS! A thousand bucks worth. Azaleas and rhododendrons mostly. I have tried to find someplace to buy wild azaleas to plant in the steeper areas of the meadow, but I was unable to find anybody who grew them. I know they are very difficult to transplant from the wild, plus I don't know of very many of private property. So we went with domestic varieties, but I think the colors will be good, and blend in quite well.

And the rhododendrons will add a bit of green color in the wintertime, plus some nice flowers in the spring.

I also brought out some bug bombs to slow down the wasps, which I set off upstairs in the loft. It would be four hours before I could re-enter the cabin, so I got a lot of little chores done outside.

One chore was to lay out the new deck that I am going to build to put the hot tub on. Once I figured out where the posts were going, I had to get the heavy steel pry bar and move a few rather large boulders that were in the way. One of them went crashing down the hillside, but I managed to move the others out of the way without any further dramatics.

Come to think of it, I don't remember what any of the other chores were. Perhaps there weren't any in the morning, because I did head off soon for a little hike and then a trail maintenance work trip.

The hike took me down the ladder trail to the river. It didn't take me too long to skip down the steep slope. And you should have seen all of the bloodroot flowers! They were EVERYWHERE, and just incredible! And dancing to the pulse of the wind. But they weren't the only flowers out. There seemed to be tiny blooms of this or that all around me. It was a fairy tale hike for sure.

The sun was shining brightly when I reached the river. And it was getting rather warm. The river was running normal, and was this wonderful color. Let's see, last night was the blue moon, today is April 1st, the first real day of spring for me. It is warm, and there is this gorgeous river right at my feet. I don't know what came over me, but before I knew what was going on, I had stripped off my clothes and was screaming at the top of my lungs as I plunged my body into the FRIGID water! The first dip was downright painful. But I quickly got out, and then went right back in again. The second time is always better. I stayed in for maybe ten seconds this time. That was enough for me.

I got out and dried off as best as I could, then turned towards the big hill and tried to make it to the top as fast as I could, non stop, and taking large steps. I'm sure the cold water helped a little, and before I knew it I was sitting in one of my chairs on the back deck, panting heavily.

There were still a lot of birds out, mostly little ones now. In fact, there were a couple of pairs of very tiny birds that were chasing each other out over the meadow. I never could ID them, but they seemed to be having a great time. Once I rested up a little, it was time for another hike.

I took a new route over towards the Crag. This area is one that I plan to put a trail through at some point, one that would connect my cabin with the Faddis Meadow. As I got to the end of the area, I discovered an old log road that went straight down the hillside. I followed it, and found that it joined another old road trace on the lower bench. I took this road on over through the maple grove near the Crag.

Right out in the middle of the woods, there was a bright yellow balloon hanging from a limb. It must have gotten away from someone and floated all the way into the wilderness. It looked a little funny.

On the bench above the Crag, there is a good campsite that is legal. It looked like a large group had used it lately - they rolled up a bunch of pretty good sized boulders around a firering to use as backrests, seats and tables. It was a pretty nice looking campsite, and a much better spot to camp at then down right next to the Crag where stupid people camp.

There was a group of folks down at the Crag, but they weren't camping.

My goal was to cut out all of the limbs and trees that had fallen across the trail during the ice storm. The Forest Service basically ignores this trail, but it still need maintenance, especially when there is storm damage. I worked for about an hour, and cut out a dozen or more big limbs. There were already trails beat out around every one of them.

Along one stretch of the trail there were literally hundreds and hundreds of spring beauty wildflowers - the entire forest floor took on this pink/purple hue. What wonderful little fellows these tiny spring messengers are!

I found a little dead bird in the leaves - a downy woodpecker. Couldn't figure out what had happened. I guess they guys die of old age and other natural causes sometimes. It was a sad moment of the day. This little guy added so much beauty and music to the world during its short life, I hated to see it ended. Then I realized that I had certainly come a very long way since my childhood. I used to shoot and kill little birds like this one with my BB gun all the time. And now, here I was, nearly in tears. I guess that I have walked many miles since those days.

As I walked on further, I got to thinking about bears. There is a nice little bluffline right above the trail, and there are several very bear-looking holes in the base. These would be perfect dens for bears, and they are on the southern slope, and near the top of the ridge (they don't have to climb the bluff to get into Bob's cabin). Even though some of the bears caused a great deal of grief last summer, I feel like the last one that I saw became my friend of sorts, and I wondered how he had been all winter, and when I would get to wander around with him again. I looked forward to the next meeting.

And as I got near the trailhead, guess what I found - a new registration box! Way to go Forest Service! However, when I opened it, there were no cards. This box had only been up a few weeks, and already all of the cards were filled out. This trail gets a lot of use, and if they are going to put out registration cards, they need to check and replace them every week or two. It looked pretty silly to have this expensive new box and no cards. Typical. I will give them an A for effort though, to put up a nice box. Gosh, too bad there isn't some local guy who uses this trail a lot that could check and refill the box with cards! I have asked, but the Forest Service is not interested.

I spotted one small black caterpillar crawling down on the trail. Hum - I wondered how long it would be before this guy became a bluebird snack?

Once I got to the trailhead, I followed the road back. And I spotted what must have been a remarkable discovery - in fact, I thought that it was a brand new species of butterfly, because I had never seen anything like it before! It was black, and looked like it had two sets of wings, at right angles to each other. But it managed to fly through the air OK. Upon closer inspection I realized that my great discovery was merely two little black butterflies enjoying a spring afternoon together.

Then I made a real discovery. As I walked past a stand of wild plum - the fragrance was overwhelming, simply incredible - I spotted the skeleton of some large creature. My goodness, there aren't any cows around here, and elk never stray up this far. It was a large skeleton alright, that of an ancient tractor. There was something there sticking up that looked a lot like a set of rib bones. What stuck me most about this old tractor was that the wheel had wooden spokes, like a wagon wheel. Bob later told me this was typical of old tractors. It looked pretty neat, and I learned a little something about early Ozark life. And those plums were just, well, wonderful!

Also in the same general area (an old homestead), there was this flaming red flowering bush of something, and a large black and blue butterfly feeding on one of the brilliant blossoms. It was a stirring contrast of color indeed!

As I was kicking back on the deck once again, I spotted more butterflies down below. There were three or four large yellow ones flying around. I think it is going to be a very good year for butterflies. Gosh, last summer was a GREAT ONE!

Uh oh. A tick. First one of the season. Let's hope it wasn't an omen.

There has been a water leak down in the basement, actually in the main electric line coming into the cabin - water has been filling up the conduit and dripping out. I have never been able to figure out how or where this water is getting into the electric line (underground cable, so no problem). I tried a new technique to stop the leak, and it worked!

While I was fixing the leak, I realized that I had a more serious water problem. There apparently is a leak in the main waterline coming into the cabin. I could tell because the water pressure drops a little over time, even though there are not faucets on or leaking toilets. That is not a good sign. I have no idea where the leak might be.

I vacuumed up a couple hundred dead wasps and lady bugs.

And I had a spoonful or two of Starbucks ice cream for lunch.

It was time for one last hike, and I headed back down to the river, just as the sun was beginning to set. I was soon without sunshine. When I got down to where the bloodroots were growing, I found them all wound up tight. They looked like pure white tulips. I guess they had put in a long day, and were in bed for the night.

I wanted to see what the yellow trout lilies were doing, but could hardly find any that were out - only two or three. Yet the flat ground where they were growing was literally COVERED with their distinctive leaves! I mean there were probably thousands of them there, but only a few with flowers out. There were other low growing plants too, and the forest floor was nearly solid green - about ten shades of it.

There were tons of phlox in bloom, and several other wildflower species too, including toothwort and Dutchman's Breeches. And I found a new one for this year - bellwort. Those are the yellow ones that hang their heads in shame, always looking like they are wilted. They could be such a pretty flower if they would only stand up and show themselves! There were also several tiny and tender wild iris coming out. I'll bet they bloom within a couple of weeks.

There was no way that I was going to jump in the river again today.

As I headed back up the hillside, I realized that it got dark a lot sooner down there in the valley where all of the homesites where. Because of the tall ridges all around, the sun got there late in the mornings too. I guess there would be maybe as much as an hour less daylight than up at the cabin. I wonder if that had any effect on the early pioneer who lived down there? Perhaps the extended darkness produced more children.

The owls were out, and hooting like crazy, as I made my way up the steep hillside. In the dimming light I could see that there were lots of large trillium wildflowers beginning to take over long stretches of the trail. They weren't in bloom yet, but their distinctive leaves were everywhere.

It was a sweat climbing the hill again, but I knew there was ice cream waiting for me at the top, so I pressed on, trying to burn off enough calories to justify indulging more than my usual.

I slowed down as I walked through my little meadow. I got down and began to look closely (the sun was just now setting up at the cabin, so I still had plenty of light). There were all kinds of little plants coming up. I had no idea if they were some of the wildflowers that I had planted in February, or some from last year, or just weeds. I will be keeping an eye on them as spring progresses. One of these years I hope to be able to actually identify some of these plants before they flower.

And speaking of flowers, there were already six or eight different species of wildflowers blooming in the meadow, all small ones. The violets are about to take over one spot. I can't wait to witness the progression of color as the year goes on.

I spent ten minutes out on the "cooling down deck." The wind was still blowing hard, but it had shifted from the normal SW direction to the east - that usually means a change in the weather. It was blowing pretty good - up in the mid 30's. The baro pressure was dropping.

Someone told me recently that you can eat anything that you want within thirty minutes of serious exercise and your body will burn it up immediately. Hum. What a great deal! I have no idea if that is even remotely true or not, but just in case it was, I hurried to the freezer and scooped out a cupful of ice cream. I ate it slowly, back out on the deck, and enjoyed every single frozen drop.

I have this simple green and while checkered cotton table cloth for the dining table. It is now about one size too small - I took it home and washed it. Oops. Looks like another trip to Wal Mart.

After a well-deserved hot shower, I had a plate of veggies and rice and a glass of wine, then sat down at the computer and spent several hours writing. It had been a great day, with lots of work done, and FOUR hikes! Bob is up at his cabin for a few days, and I am going over to help him plant taters in the morning. I just stepped outside a few minutes ago to check on the progress of the rising moon, and discovered that not only was there no moon out, but it was misting. And still very warm.

4/2/99 A little lady named Robin woke me this morning. She was sitting on a limb right outside my bedroom window, singing her heart out. It wasn't quite daylight yet. I could see a hazy yellow moon setting in the west out the other window. And to the east, the sky was getting light, although it was full of broken clouds. I laid back and rested a few more minutes.

I got up just before the sun rose and ate a quick bite. When I went outside to put my boots on, I met a rabbit that was munching on some new green leaves near the edge of the carport. He didn't stick around long. By the way, we had a discussion about "rabbits" vs. "hares" the other night, and found out that a "hare" is born with hair, where a "rabbit" is born hairless. You would think that they would have spelled "hare" "hair."

Bob had already been working in the Faddis garden a while by the time I arrived. The sun wasn't quite up there yet. He had been tilling a spot in the corner of his big garden. I took over the tilling job while he cut up some seed potatoes. We put out three rows of them - about 120 in all. I plan to fry/bake/grill and otherwise eat as many of these spuds this summer as I can - I just LOVE potatoes!

Bob is in his 70's and still going strong. He is tall and slender, and you can usually find a smile on his face. There is a great deal of Ozark pioneer in his blood. He sat down on a pile of straw to survey the garden. The sun peeked over the trees far behind him and put a yellow rim of light on him. He said to me: "You know, working with the earth like this is very good for the soul." Darn right.

I finished up the tilling of one end of the garden, and then had to get back to the cabin. Bob was going to put out garlic, horseradish, rhubarb, lettuce, radish, kale, collards, English peas, and cabbage this weekend. Corn, green beans, tomatoes and a few other odds and ends would be added later. Summer is the best time to visit Cloudland because there is always FRESH food in the skillet!

On the way back I plotted out another trail through the woods. This one dropped down from the garden through a small but colorful broken bluffline, then out across a wide bench that was covered with trout lilies, and finally along the edge of the bench where you can look down the steep hillside to the lower trail to the Crag below. I want to utilize this trail instead of walking down the road when going to the Faddis Cabin, and to the garden.

Right out in the middle of the woods, a bright yellow butterfly came floating by. He followed me nearly all the way back to the cabin. Nice company for a warm spring morning.

I like living out here at Cloudland. It seems like there is always something to look at, or feel or experience in some way. Right now, as I am sitting in my office here, typing away at the computer, there are butterfly shadows dancing across the mini-blinds. I guess they are trying to edit what I am writing about them. And I can hear little birds nearby, and the drumming of a woodpecker way off in the distance.

4/3/99 Lightening, thunder, RAIN! Lots of the above. That is what this Saturday was filled with. Must be April in the Ozarks. We sure did need the rain - could use some every week to keep the waterfalls and creeks up and running full tilt until summer.

I met with Bob and Dawna from Ft. Smith out on the Ozark Highlands Trail to hike in and take a look at some trail work that needed to be done. It had already rained quite a bit, and all watercourses were swollen. After our little trail inspection, we hiked on down into the Spirits Creek drainage. The very first thing that we found was this INCREDIBLE waterfall! It was just below the main trail, but none of us had ever seen it before. It was multi-level and just went on forever, spilling down over moss-covered boulders.

And once we reached the main Spirits Creek gorge, the wonderful water scenes just got better. This is one of the most scenic parts of the trail at any time of the year, but especially so with all of the water. There were also a lot of dogwoods beginning to blossom, although the flowers were coming out green at first instead of bright white. This area is only slightly south of Cloudland (and 50 miles to the west), but everything seemed about a week farther into spring, with many trees budding and/or leafing out.

And the forest floor was COVERED with wildflowers, although not all that many of them were blooming. We found one giant boulder that we climbed up on that was literally covered, every square inch of it, with trout lilies and a couple of other wildflowers, all rimmed with walking ferns.

Bob didn't have a raincoat with him. Mine was tucked into my daypack about a mile up the trail. As we continued exploring the creek, the sky got very dark. I mean about as dark as you can get during the daytime. Then the sky opened up, and it began to pour buckets. Dawna had her rain gear on, of course. Bob and I headed straight up the steep hillside as the rain got heavier. I had on a pair of nylon shorts and a poly pro top. Thank goodness it wasn't too cold out. I enjoyed hiking in the rain, although I did have to hike about as fast as I could in order to stay warm. By the time I reached my daypack, and my raincoat, I decided just to keep on going and keep the rain gear dry - hey, I was soaked anyway.

On the way back up the hill, we stopped and spent ten minutes building a very large waterbar across the trail. There was a great deal of water running down the trail - about six inches deep. I had never built a waterbar underwater before, but had to do most of the digging there. Before too long, we had a descent ditch constructed and most of the water was running off of the trail. We will have to go back later and build a real waterbar there in the future.

On the way back from the trail, we drove past dozens and dozens of waterfalls and cascades plunging down mountainsides. It was a great scenic driving tour for sure.

We had our spring hike-in scheduled at our hiking club's Williams Woods Nature Preserve this day, but the heavy downpour all day kept most away. I can't blame them. Hiking in the rain is one thing, but camping in it is quite another. Not too much fun, especially for novice hikers.

I got back to Cloudland just as the sky was breaking up a little and the daylight was fading. It had been one thunderous day outside, and I sat out on the back deck to wind down. Of course, both the Buffalo River and Whitaker Creek were flooded and making a lot of noise. And just across the valley, I could hear and SEE those two hundred foot waterfalls spilling over the big bluff - they were awesome!

The wind had topped out at 41mph, and we had 2.5 inches of rain. I suspect there was even more rain than that, but it was blowing horizontal and didn't get caught in the rain gauge.

But what really got me was the weird color and quality of the light. Weird, that pretty well describes it. It was a mixture of the warm colors of sunset through the clouds, and the green of the new trees budding out.

It was warm out, with a light breeze. Actually, it was a pretty good breeze out in back, and I spent some time sitting in the front porch swing. I like to do that sometimes. There isn't much of a view, but it was dark out, so I didn't need a view. The rivers and the wind and the chimes and the stereo all combined to form a very relaxing tune. It was one of those top-ten moments at Cloudland. A glass of good wine sent to me by some new friends in California topped everything off. I sat and swayed back and forth and let my mind wander.

Here is a little tidbit that I learned about how lightening will stimulate plant growth. It seems that when conditions are just right, like they were this day, with spring rains and plants already about to bud out, a lightening storm will speed up the process. The lightening somehow changes the nitrogen in the atmosphere into a form that is more usable by plants. This gives the trees a jolt and makes them grow faster. I expected to see a lot of new growth the next day!

4/4/99 Easter. Even before it got light enough to see, I could tell it was going to be one incredible morning. There was a sea of clouds down in the valley - one of the largest that I had ever seen. The nearly full moon was shining in one window of the loft. And there were stars out.

As the sun began to rise, both the sun and the moon could be seen reflecting in the lamp beside the bed (through two different windows). Then sunlight spilled over the ridgetop and illuminated the sea of fog. Time to get up and greet the day!

I cooked up some asparagus eggs, garlic new potatoes, blueberry biscuits, and fresh ground coffee with that special Cloudland touch for breakfast. Hey, it was a holiday. The incredible light and fog show was quite a treat to watch, even from inside the cabin. It was cool outside, and no wind at all. The clouds were going to hang around for a little while.

And for a really special treat, those two big waterfalls across the way were still running. The top of the fog bank was hovering right about in the middle of the waterfalls - the waterfalls were spilling over this huge painted sandstone bluff right into the sea of fog! Gosh, it was just incredible.

But today was a work day, so I got into work clothes and got to it. Plants. There were lots of plants to put in the ground. A friend came out from town to do the planting. I helped out some, but mostly tended to my own chores.

I moved on over to the other side of the big deck and worked on the hot tub site. There were more giant rocks to move, and lots of dirt to dig up. I made a level spot to set the tub on (up on 6 x 6 posts). Once the hot tub gets here, I will build a new deck around it, so it will be built in and sunken. The new deck won't be much larger than the hot tub though.

After much figuring and measuring, I decided to orient the tub east-west. I plan on spending most of my time in the lounger, and from my seat, I will be able to see under the big deck, and will have a terrific view of the Buffalo River.

As the morning drew on, the clouds eventually disappeared. It never got foggy at the cabin. I don't know what happens to the clouds - they just evaporate into the air I guess. But the sky was clear and blue and the sunshine felt great. And there were lots of birds out too. Including the blue birds. We never actually saw them going into either birdhouse, but they were handing around close. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

And there was a pair of birds that were beginning a nest over near the hot tub site - up on top of the overhead light fixture.

An unusual bird landed on a nearby limb. It was about the size of a sparrow, but had very distinctive black and white stripes covering its entire body. Neither of us had ever seen a bird like this before. And we never could find it in the ID book. Someone help! This was one unusual feathered friend.

Roy and Norma came hiking by with Ony and her friend Leslie. They were headed down to the bluff to do a little repelling, and waved as they went by. A few screams were heard coming from their direction later on.

It had been a hard morning, but the work felt great. We took a break and had lunch on the deck. Just about the time we were finishing up, a commotion broke out down below. Lizards. Two of them. And they were quite LARGE lizards. My friend has a pet iguana, about five feet long, so we were especially interested in what these guys were up to. I had spent time on this deck looking through the binocs or the tele as birds, foxes, butterflies, people, but never lizards!

It seems they had a disagreement, or a territorial dispute or something. The were both up on a log down below that was covered with lichens. They faced each other and both started "pumping" (doing push-ups). This was funny to begin with. Then, all of a sudden, one jumped at the other, got him by the neck, and they twisted and flopped all around (no they weren't having sex - these dudes were fighting!). In fact they wrestled themselves right off of the log, and disappeared into the leaves.

We watched on, fascinated. They both climbed up onto a rock, pumped up some more, then went at each other again. At one point, they were down in the leaves thrashing around, and while they were actually out of sight, there was stuff being thrown up in the air by their fighting - it was a lot of fun watching them!

The reptile ID book that I had was of no use. Everything that we thought we had a perfect match, we discovered that particular lizard was only found in one county in California, or something like that. They were large, not the normal lizards that you see in the Ozarks, and had bright green bellies.

The lizards moved on down the hillside and continued their argument. We went back to work and found that the trickle watering plan I had set up had completely drained the water well - this had not happened in over a year. That was not a good thing. Especially since we still had a lot of plants to get into the ground and water in. I couldn't get the well pump to pump any water, but there was still a little bit in the hose, so we just let a little water dribble into the plants and hoped that would be enough.

The sun began to beat down pretty good in the afternoon. It was in fact a little warm. Still felt great. We both were getting tired, dried out, and a little sunburned. But we finally did get the last of the big plants in the ground. I had finished with my leveling project, and dug that last few holes while my friend did the planting. That system worked well.

Right before we quit for the day, I tried to manually start the well pump once again, and it started up and filled up the water pressure tank in the basement. Yea, water again! We got the rest of the plants a good dose of the wet stuff, then shut everything down and packed up all the tools.

As my friend was leaving, she spotted a rabbit out in front. It wasn't afraid of her at all, and never ran off. It didn't dawn on me that it must have been the Easter Bunny!

Another terrific weekend at Cloudland. Spring is in full swing.

4/5/99 Sunrise never came today. It was dark, very dark. And the wind was blowing. No HOWLING! And then the rains came. The wet stuff was blowing horizontally, and so were many tree branches and other debris. Gale force winds topped out at 52mph. And about an inch of rain, which was great for all of the new plants in the neighborhood.

This was a fitting beginning to my day as I had to get into town and go through a State Sales Tax audit. Not the most pleasant experience, but I did survive.

Everything was calm out at the cabin when I returned at night. No major damage, except for three chairs that had been blown from the lower deck way out into the front, and broken. Nothing on the upper decks was moved at all. Strange. And the well water was back to normal, thank goodness.

I got an e-mail from a Canadian journal reader, who suggested an ID for the weird bird that we had seen over the weekend. While I was in town, I had picked up an Eastern US bird ID book, and son of a gun, her ID was correct - the black and white striped bird that we saw was a Black and White Warbler. The first warbler ID at Cloudland! The new book is a Peterson Field Guide, which I like a LOT better than the Audubon guides. From now on, I'm sticking with Peterson's.

As I shut down the cabin and got ready for bed, I spend a little time out on the back deck. It was calm out, and clear, with lots of stars. Out in the distance, there were flashes of light - lots of them.

4/6/99 The flashes didn't produce anything, and a bright sun quickly filled the cabin and got me out of bed. Clear skies, no wind, 49 degrees. When I opened the back door to the deck I was met with throngs of bird songs - the trees and the ground and the sky was alive with motion and color! Lots of little birds especially, out playing in the trees.

There were blue birds, juncos, sparrows, pewees, more of the warblers, red tailed hawks, buzzards, crows, and both ends of the wood pecker spectrum - a couple of giant pileated ones and several tiny downy ones. I just sat and watched in amazement at all of the life outside my door.

The recent rains and sunshine were having an impact on the trees of the forest. Down below me I could see individual trees that had popped out and were green and taking on tree shapes. They were mostly down in the bottom of the valleys, a few up the hillsides, but none on the ridgetops. The side-lighting of the morning sun really brought out the green.

It was tough to tear myself away from the wonderful show outside. I spent most of the morning inside, down in the basement, getting the heavy wiring for the hot tub all set up and in place. It was actually easy, once I got about a dozen holes drilled in the floor joists. It took a chunk of 220 wire that weights about 30 pounds to make the connection.

Then I moved outside and poured the concrete footing for the new deck post. There were a couple of birds that were a little annoyed while I was working in that spot. I later learned that they were peewees, and they were busy building a nest on top of one of the lower deck lights, right next to the future hot tub location. Oops. That was not a good place for them to nest.

Next on my list was to plant all of the day lilies. I put them along part of the drive out in front. It was getting a little hot by then, and gradually my clothes came off. I realized that I didn't have a pair of shorts out at the cabin - big mistake at this time of the year - so before long I was working in just my hiking boots, socks, and my underwear.

While I was taking a break on the back deck, another new bird flew up and perched in the tree right in front of me. I even had my binocs at the ready, and studied him carefully. He looked just like the Black and White Warblers that were chasing each other around the meadow, although he had this brilliant yellow throat patch. A quick look in the new guidebook confirmed that it was a Yellow-throated Warbler. I love these descriptive names. And I like all of the warblers around.

It would turn out to be a very long, hot, sunny, and productive afternoon. I spent most of it hauling wood up from the meadow, and clearing out logs from down there. I decided that this would be my last day of clearing down there. There were so many tiny new plants coming up in the meadow - wildflowers I hoped - that I didn't want to trample them any more. It was amazing just how many logs were left down there. Many of them were really too large for me to handle alone, but I did the best that I could.

Since it got pretty hot, I decided to strip off what was left of my clothing, and I spent the afternoon working in the buff. Good thing that I didn't have any visitors! Of course, if anyone had wandered by, they wouldn't have seen much - probably would have had to use their binocs anyway. I did get a little worried about all of those birds flying around nearby though - after all, they were all out looking for little worms. Hum.

I also spent a lot of time taking breaks up on the back deck, and looking around at all the life. The valley below was filled with soaring birds - lots of hawks and even more buzzards. Curiously though they were all flying low, below the ridgetops. None were up in the sky. I don't know if it was the air temp, or currents, or what. At one point, I looked up the Whitaker Creek drainage and there were about a dozen buzzards flying in formation right down the valley, weaving back and forth, but all remaining at about the same elevation. They looked like a squadron of jet fighters coming in for an attack.

Eventually the soaring birds did make their way up into the air. At one point, there seemed to be two distinctly different groups of hawks flying around. There were several large red tails circling high up, and a group of three or four smaller ones that mainly kept low in the valleys. It was like each bunch had its own territory, which was divided by elevation.

I watched one of the hawks through the binocs as he was doing his acrobatics. He would soar around a little, then dive down a hundred feet, then flare up into the wind and climb. He was backlit by the sun the whole time and I could see the brilliant rust color in his tail plainly.

And another hawk entered the valley at one end and sailed low all the way to the other end, without flapping a single time.

There were also a LOT of butterflies soaring around down in the meadow. At first I just noticed a few here and there, then more came, and more. They were coming over the top of the cabin and spilling down into the meadow. Two kinds mostly - both Zebra and Yellow Tiger swallow tails. Zebras and tigers oh my! I wondered how such gentle creatures could be named after ferocious animals? It was great to see the splash of color darting back and forth across the meadow. And I realized that it was nearly impossible to follow one of these butterflies through the binocs - they were just to fast and unpredictable.

One of the big lizards came out. He crawled out to the end of a log in the meadow, and went through an exercise routine - doing push-ups. He appeared to be surveying his kingdom, and proclaiming himself as lizard king. I didn't argue.

The rivers down below sung all day - there was a lot of water in them, although the color was normal. And at one point, I heard a noise, and looked down just in time to see a kayak in the Buffalo. The "Hailstone" run from one end of the wilderness to the other - fifteen miles - is a float that I have been anxious to do, and I will get to it before this spring is out. For the experienced floater, high water is best, and about the only time that it can be floated. But I'm not that good, and so will pick a more normal water flow, which means that I will probably have to get out and drag the canoe a lot, but I won't care. It will be a wonderful trip. I'll bet the floaters were having a great time today with all of the water.

As the afternoon drew on and it got warmer, you could almost see the individual trees popping out below. I would say that the number of trees out doubled during the afternoon.

There didn't seem to be any dogwoods out though. They will often bloom before the rest of the forest leafs out. Some of the dogwoods down in the meadow appeared to be on the verge of popping out right before my eyes, but they held their buds tight. I did find one dogwood that had burst out though - the one right outside of the guest bath window. It had been heavily damaged by the cabin construction activities, but it seems to want to stand up and tell the world that it was still as beautiful as any tree in the forest - and it is! Great to see dogwood blooms again.

There was a small flock of juncos that were feeding on some seed that I had scattered on the ground. At first, when I would walk near them, they would all jump up into the air and take off, just like a group of disturbed pigeons in the park. As the day wore on, and I walked past them a lot, they got less and less afraid, and eventually didn't pay me any attention and just kept right on eating. Good for them.

The zillion tiny plants down in the meadow seemed to grow a little with each trip past them. The sun and that nitrogen were having quite an impact on the forest. I liked to think that my bare behind did too. Maybe that was what all of the chatter up in the trees was all about. Ha, ha, I'm sure the birds will talk about that for a while.

My friend Ken Eastin faxed me a design that he drew up for the little tower that I had to build for the big water tank that I wanted to install to catch rain water (to water plants with and fill the hot tub).

By the end of the day, I was beat, and sunburned all over. But it felt great to get as much work done. I was now ready for spring to happen down in the meadow. Perhaps I will plant a few more things - got some coneflowers all ready - but that may be about it until next year. Looks like the wild sunflowers will come on strong again this summer, and they have spread from last year. There will be an explosion of growth and color for several months ahead I bet. And with all of that growth will bring many forms of life for all to watch and enjoy. Thank goodness for my meadow!

4/7/99 I arrived back at the cabin at mid-morning accompanied by Terry Fredrick. His truck was filled with long and heavy boards - treated 6 x 6 posts and 2 x 12's and stuff like that. AND, a 500 gallon water tank. It was time to get the cistern put up.

We unloaded everything, and then I ran a shuttle for Terry, who was out to do a hike over in the Beech Creek drainage. I let him off down at the old Sassafras community. This was a woman's commune for many years back in the 70's - 90's. There are 20 or so dwelling there, all abandoned. I heard that the last folks moved out a couple of years ago. Terry says that the long bench were the commune was located is one of the most incredible wildflower areas in the region. I vowed to return one day and see for myself, but I had work to do back at the cabin. (An UPDATE: Terry was met and run off by a woman, and he said that there was fresh construction going on, so I guess the community is alive and well once again - that means that we need to respect their rights and NOT trespass to get into the Beech Creek drainage. I have also since learned that someone else has purchased the property, an so it may not be the community folks after all.)

And it was hard, dirty work too. I dug holes and cut posts and poured concrete. The posts were so heavy that I could not even being to pick one up, so I had to drag them around and muscle them into place. By the end of the day, I had all four big posts cemented in the ground, and the structure began to look a little like Ken's faxed design.

4/8/99 It was late morning when I got back to work, and the wind was howling - up in the low 40's. And it was in the low 70's temp wise. Lots of clouds. Ken Eastin came out to help with the final assembly of the water tower. We quickly got to work sawing and drilling and hauling. The wind blew and blew all afternoon, but the rain held off.

We managed to solve all of the little problems that cropped up, and by the end of the day, we had a finished rain water catch system in place! I hadn't been able to get the rain gutter stuff that I wanted, so we rigged up a temporary system that looked like some hillbilly contraption, with wires and hanging pipes and such. We had no idea if it would work. Of if the system would work at all. Or if the tower would hold the more than two ton weight of a full water tank. Now we needed some rain.

As we sat out on the back sipping a couple of beers, a storm blew up. And I mean really BLEW! There was this one hawk that came flying through. He got up into the wind, which was blowing about 40mph. And you could tell that he was straining to keep from being blown away - his wings were tucked in close to his body as he made his was up the valley.

And in a fitting note, Ken's pack of cigarettes blew right off of the deck and down into the woods - served him right for smoking. It was a funny sight to see this rain-soaked body trudging up the steep slope, clutching a pack of soggy cigarettes!

And then the rain got a little harder. We rushed to the guest bath window and stuck our heads out to see if we could hear any water running into the tank. And we could! It rained on, and the tank began to fill up. Within an hour, it had rained about a quarter of an inch. I had no idea how much rain it would take to fill up the tank. We checked the tank and discovered, much to our great delight, that there was already over 100 gallons in the tank! And everything was working fine. Even out little hillbilly pipe contraption. Although we did have to shore it up in a spot or two with some rope.

We sat around and listened to the storm. The rain finally stopped, and stars came out. Just over one half inch fell, and the tank had 300 gallons of water in it - yippie! What great timing. It may not rain again for a month. But I've got water, and the water tower was working fine. So it takes about an inch of rain to fill the tank completely. And I'm only using about 1/2 the surface area of the roof - I could always add a second tank on the back side of the cabin if I needed to.

After Ken left and went home, I sat out on the deck and watched one tremendous light show. There was still a bank of thunderheads on the horizon, and it was filled with electricity. I think the lightening was just trying to match the brilliance of the sky full of stars above.

4/9/99 I got up in the middle of the night and realized that it was bright outside. A quarter moon was rising into the eastern sky. It was about 4am. I couldn't sleep, so I got up and wrote for a couple of hours. It was warm and calm and loud outside - the rivers were really running! I had to strain to make out features in the wilderness in the dim light, but the river below was sparkling in the moonlight.

I returned to bed until the sun came up. When it did, my eyes were flooded with green light from the budding trees outside my window. That wonderful bright spring green will soon cover the entire Ozarks. I've not seen anything to match that elsewhere in this country. New England may have its fall, the Rockies in the winter, but spring in the Ozarks is tops!

As the sun was climbing into the sky, I took off down the ladder trail for a quick trip to the river and back. I just needed to work through some personal problems, and didn't know of a better way to think. While there weren't all that many flowers out, cities of may apples were popping up all over. No flowers yet, but they will be out soon. And there were tons of giant bloodroot leaves - some about the size of small elephants ears, but no blooms. The trillium were out in full force too, and blooming nicely.

Once I reached the river, I found a raging torrent. The rock bar was completely under water, with only the tops of the individual sycamore trees sticking up. Looked a little funny. And Whitaker Creek was running high too, and there was no way that I could have crossed it dry. A half inch of rain can sure send a lot of water!

The climb back up the hill was swift, and my brain was running on overdrive. I hardly even noticed the steepness of the hill at all. Really. That wasn't because I was in such great shape, but because my mental attention was elsewhere, on problems in my life.

Just as I made it to the top of the bluff, I looked right out in front of me, and a few inches from my face was a lone wildflower, perched on a tiny ledge. Its whole purpose it seemed was to welcome me to the top, to let me know that I would aways have the beauty of nature to make my heart soar. Thanks little buddy!

And when I reached the cabin, I found a tick - #2 for the season.

Touches of green are beginning to climb up the hillsides now, and while most of the trees are still brown, the wilderneess is taking on a green tint. And there are a few dogwoods here and there beginning to pop out, including several round the cabin. They are coming out with that yellow/green shade instead of pure white. They will eventually turn all white.

4/10/99 This Saturday was going to be a work day for me, mostly away from the cabin. I had to lead a group of folks to a couple of scenic areas, then a quick stop by the cabin, then a short hike into Dug Hollow, then into town for a little while, then back out to the cabin. A very long but wonderful spring day in the Ozarks.

We hiked into Kings River Falls first. There was lots of water in the river from the recent rains, and the waterfall was as incredible as I had ever seen it - really spectacular! This is not a very tall waterfall, but it is wide, and has a great deal of personality. And the color of the water was this very rich green. There were a few wildflowers out there, but not nearly as many as usual at this time of the year. The redbuds and service berry were out in full force. And we saw two snakes along the trail - a copperhead and a big black snake, both still a little lethargic from a long winter rest.

Kings River Falls is one of those spots that you can go to at just about any time of the year and have a great hike. The water forms and rock sculptures are so wonderful there. And the vegetation is always lush. It is protected as a State Natural Area, just like Sweden Falls.

Next we drove on over and hiked down into the Glory Hole. It too was full of water and really pumping. There were a lot of other hikers on that trail. One group of folks said that they recognized me by my tripod. Good grief. Since I have a very nice wood tripod, I guess that is not all that bad. I tore up some of the rubber part of my bumper on the new truck as I was turning around - a stupid thing to do. On the way out, we saw and photographed a huge luna moth (aren't they all?) that was clinging to the truck of a tree. The wind was whipping the poor guy around, and we were hardly able to take any pictures of him at all.

From there we visited the cabin, and spent some time lounging around on the back deck, munching on chocolate, sipping a little brew, and taking a few pictures. When it came time to move on, I had a trouble getting everyone up and going. I think they enjoyed the place.

I took one of the hikers down to Roberts Falls while the rest of the group went down to the Crag. We visited Bob's yellow lady slipper orchids, and found them to be just starting to come out of the ground - will probably be 2-3 weeks before any bloom. The waterfall was running pretty good, and the umbrella magnolia trees around it had begun to leaf out, but no blooms yet - another 2-3 weeks on them as well.

It was very late and dark when I returned to the cabin. The stars were shining brightly in the coal black sky. I was tired, and went straight up to bed.

4/11/99 I rested my head on the pillow and watched as the yellow ball eased up over the hillside, lightening up brilliant new green growth in the trees out my window. Sunshine filled the valleys one by one, and soon it was a bright green and blue kind of a day. And it was chilly out - in the low 50's with wind.

I didn't have any Starbucks, so I fixed up a Cloudland cocoa and sipped it out on the deck and the light show went on. One thing that I noticed right away was that there weren't very many birds out. A few little ones playing in the treetops, but that was about it. I didn't see a single soaring bird of any kind.

There were a few inside chores to do, then I spent some time putting up the permanent gutter system to feed the cistern. I had to get out the chain saw and do a little alteration to the log carport in one spot. Yikes, I was cutting into my cabin with a chain saw! It turned out just fine, and no longer looked like a hillbilly set up. Probably won't work.

As the morning went on, the wilderness became greener with each passing hour. Most of the trees had some degree of green now. Some were with tiny leaves, others with those weird green things that grow on them first in the spring. And still no soaring birds. A single male bluebird spent a few minutes sitting in the top of one of the dogwoods down below.

Then a buzzard appeared way off in the distance. Just one guy. He took his time, and was just cruising down the valley. An old lonely buzzard. I guess we had a lot in common. Only my house is nicer than his. I think.

Some of the azaleas that we had planted last week were already blooming, and they were attracting a number of yellow tiger swallowtail butterflies. It was good to see the butterflies getting something to eat.

I tried out the new cistern, and while the water pressure was not very good, I was able to water a few plants with no problems, saving precious well water.

After another hour or two of chores, I stuck out for a hike. Did a quick trip out to the main trailhead and back. I passed a number of folks along the way, all couples. Not what I needed to see. Many folks don't like to do an out-and-back on the same trail - they would rather loop around and not see the same country twice. Well, I consider myself to be a pretty good spotter of things along the trails as I hike. On my way back down the very same trail, I found gobs of wildflowers that I hadn't even noticed just a few minutes before. And there were lots of firepink coming out. This is another one of those things that is not named correctly at all - they are bright RED, not pink! But it was great to see them.

And I was glad to see that the Forest Service had put a batch of sign in cards at the new registration box. Good for them.

As I was crossing a level bench that was mostly void of wildflowers, I came across a little oasis of color and movement. At the base of this large oak tree, there were about fifty little spring beauty wildflowers, all clumped together. They were shimmering in the sunny wind.

I headed down the ladder trail, and passed a group of guys from Missouri that had spent the night down on the river. Their packs looked rather heavy, and they all appeared a little tired - could it have been our little steep hill?

Most of the wildflowers along the trail were at the bottom, although since the sun was out I didn't really have a good look deep into the forest. Both rivers were back down to more normal spring flow levels, and the color was wonderful. I stuck my head and shoulders into the Buffalo and got a good cool-down.

The dogwoods along the river were out in full force - and blooming the typical bright white blooms too. It was great to see them - they were everywhere! Looking up into a blue sky through backlit dogwood blossoms and new green growth was one stunning sight, and one that I never tire of.

The trip back up the hill didn't take too long, or hurt much. It felt good to stretch the leg muscles. As I wandered through the meadow, I found that the huckleberry, wild sunflowers and polk salad were all coming out in great numbers. I'm not sure about that polk salad - guess I need to learn how to cook it. Recipes anyone?

And on the way back up the hillside, I made a decision about the Cloudland Online Journal. Since I had mentioned recently that this would be the last full month of the journal (a year ends in mid-May), I have received quite a few e-mails from faithful readers (well, more than a dozen anyway) about the subject. There were many requests, pleadings, and even a demand or two that I not stop the journal and continue it. Well, you won. I do plan to continue writing the online journal and posting it to the web site on a regular basis after May. I will have to sit down and take a look and see what kind of things are worth putting in there, and I suspect that the text will be shorter, perhaps some days even just an update. Although who knows, I might babble on for pages and pages every day - if so, you guys are to blame! I still plan to put the first year's worth of text into book form later in the year - it will be HEAVILY edited!

I spent some time down on the big low deck soaking up the bright sunshine and taking in the cooling breezes. I'm not normally a sun worshiper, but today it felt just wonderful. Still no soaring birds out.

If I had to make a prediction, I would say that next weekend will be the peak of spring around my little cabin. It will continue for several weeks for sure, but next weekend may be the best.

Later in the afternoon I took a nap in the back porch swing, and had a cup of ice cream - two treats for getting all of my allotted chores done for the day. While I was laying there, I could hear the distant drumming of a woodcock over on Beagle Mountain. I had seen one near the cabin last month, but hadn't heard one until now. It was great to hear the sound waves echoing across the valley.

4/12/99 It was 3am when I got back to the cabin. It was clear and rather chilly out - down in the low 40's. It didn't take me long to drift off once I hit the pillow. But the early morning sky soon woke me up - lots of bright orange clouds over in the east - the best pre-sunrise that I had seen in a long time!

The sun soon followed all of the color, and I had to get up and get to work. No breakfast or coffee or even hot chocolate for me today. I had a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it in. First thing I did was spend an hour or two cutting up all of the logs that I had brought up from the meadow the last couple of weeks. They were going to be in the way of the trailer that will be bringing in the hot tub, so I had to get them out of the way. I had been out of chain saw gas, but brought out a new gallon. The cutting was loud, but it went fast. By the time I had finished cutting and piled all the firewood up, it was warm outside and I was ready for a break.

Just like the day before, there were hardly any birds out. And no soaring birds at all. There were about a dozen or so little birds playing in the nearby treetops, but nothing else. Then a hawk flew in and landed in a tree at the lower edge of the meadow. Hawks seldom ever land here - they are always soaring overhead or through the meadow airspace. But this guy took a firm grip and stayed a while.

I hustled in and got the telescope and the bird book - he wasn't a red tailed hawk for sure. As I studied the detail in his body and feathers, he kept looking around him intently. Back and forth, rotating his head, pointing those piercing eyes down every little knock and cranny of the meadow. He was obviously hunting, but I wondered if he has seen some movement and stopped to check it out, or just thought that it would be a good spot to hunt.

Red shouldered hawk, immature. That's what he looked like to me. A handsome devil for sure. I continued to study him through the scope. He continued his optical workout. The brightest color on him was his brilliant yellow beak, which was short and turned down and very sharp, and his yellow feet.

Then he got this weird look on his face, like he had spotted something, or something was approaching him. He tensed up and froze. Then ever so slowly, he arched his back a little, cocked his wings, and sprang to life. He dove the thirty or so feet down to the meadow below and landed. Yea, he pounced on something. I couldn't quite make it out, until he flapped his wings and got airborne again. A snake! He had grabbed a snake. I think it was a garden snake. And then he flew off and circled back around over the point and disappeared down the Buffalo valley. I didn't know whether to feel sorry for the snake (a harmless and even helpful species), or applaud the patience and hunting savvy of the hawk. I settled instead on thinking how lucky I was to have been privy to such a raw act of nature, right in my own back yard. OK, it was time to get back to work.

I spent the rest of the morning getting the big 6x6 treated post in place. This will form the corner post for the new deck that I'm going to build around the hot tub. I had to cut and level and attach a couple of ten foot long 2x8's to the post to keep it in place. Then I mounted a breaker box to the post. The big wire for the hot tub will come into this box, and then smaller wires will go into the hot tub itself to power everything. I also spent some time doing a little more levelling of the actual tub spot (which will be on solid ground, with the little deck built around it once the tub is in place). I continue to have trouble with the final placement of the tub (which direction it will face), but I think that I finally got that nailed down.

My only nourishment was the last cup of Starbucks ice cream. This stuff was simply wonderful, every last spoonful. And now it was all gone. It is a good thing that I have not been able to find a source for it in this area, or I would put on a lot of weight. Speaking of weight, a combination of factors has contributed to me dropping 13 pounds in the past three weeks. It feels very good, and I hope to keep myself at or near this weight, at least through the summer. It is just like removing 13 pounds from your backpack (or getting to pack that much extra). I weighed in the low 180's all winter, and tipped the scale today at 169 (I'm about 6 foot, with a slender build).

The brilliant orange azaleas that are in bloom below the deck were covered with tiger swallow tails all morning, and their rich yellow color contrasted nicely with the deep orange blooms. Lots of dogwoods popping out all over. And the forest overall is getting greener and greener. Sometimes you just have to sit back and breathe deep and just try to take it all in.

4/13/99 It was another early arrival for me today, and my truck was filled with concrete blocks. I spent the next couple of hours hauling the blocks to the hot tub site and putting them in place under the 6x6 timbers. All of this will form the base for the hot tub, which is supposed to arrive later in the week.

It was windy and cloudy all day, but warm. There weren't many birds out that I could see, but the mournful droning of mourning doves off in the distance echoed throughout the valley all day long. Kind of matched my general mood. Hum.

A GIANT hawk came soaring by near noon. I took a break and watched him through the binocs for a while. He was very animated as he toured the airways out in front. Back and forth he soared, looking left and right, dipping down and swooping up and turning to the left and then to the right. Every now and then he would glance over my direction and wink.

The dogwoods down in the meadow were beginning to bloom. Five of them in all were out, including both of the larger ones. It was GREAT to see dogwoods in bloom in my little meadow!

I installed an electrical box on the new deck post, and finished up the wiring for the tub. Lots of big wire was needed to feed this electrical hog. The company claims that it will only eat about $15 worth of power a month, but I am skeptical about it.

A phone company truck arrived early in the afternoon, and we spent a half hour going through every phone connection in the cabin looking for the reason why I could not receive any calls. Son of a gun, the guy found a bad cord in the guest room - it had just gone bad at some point. I had complete phone service again! The repairman was a turkey hunter, and made the comment that I must have to use ear plugs in the mornings here because the gobbling must be so loud. While I have seen literally hundreds of turkeys at Cloudland (some of them even in the woods), I have never heard a single gobble. One of these days I will have to do a little calling and see what happens.

4/14/99 It was late at night when I arrived at the cabin. It had rained a full inch, and I hurried out to see what the cisternwas doing. It was full, and overflowing. I removed the supply pipe and rigged up an extension so that the water would run away from the cabin and out into the woods. Let's see, an inch of rain equals about 500 gallons for the cistern. It already had 300 gallons in it, so I figure that I wasted 300 gallons by not being able to catch the additional rainfall after the tank was full. If this system works out, and I need more water outside, I may add a second tank to catch the overflow. Plus, I'm only catching about 1/2 of the water that hits the roof anyway, so I could rig up even more tanks if needed. Of course, it doesn't always rain this much - about five inches so far this month already.

One of the little nagging problems that I have always had out here is a lack of a wine glass rack. I finally found one that I liked in town, and installed it. Well, actually I had to cut it in two before I could put it where I wanted to. There is now a short rack on either side of the china cabinet, under the ends of the map bar. The racks only hold a total of 12 glasses, but they are in full view, and should accommodate most of the wine traffic. The glasses look like they belong under the map bar. I need to figure out how to store a few wine bottles in the same spot. I've got about a dozen more glasses, stashed inside the china cabinet.

The temp had dipped down into the 40's, and the wind was blowing. It was raining a little, but not much.

A couple of late night phone calls to and from a friend in Kansas helped lift my spirits, which have remained at a very low point now for three weeks. I'm not normally like this. It must be my version of a mid-life crisis. I have been unable to find much sympathy though. New car, new cabin, new hot tub, work when I want doing what I want, live in the most beautiful spot on earth, fame and fortune. Nope, not much sympathy. But, of course, there is one item missing from the above list, and I would trade all of the above for it in a second. Sorry but I am a romantic, a hopeless one.

4/15/99 It rained a little during the night, but not too much. It was very wet and dark and misty at daylight, and a little chilly - I had the heat pump on all night - I had taken all of the firewood out of the cabin and stored down in the wood rack, so I didn't build a fire. There were a number of small mist clouds dancing around down in the valleys below. The cloud cover was hanging low, right around the top of the ridgetops. And the wind was blowing quite a bit. Pretty much all of the trees are now beginning to leaf out, and that brilliant green now covers the entire wilderness - looks pretty darn nice!

I guess that it is appropriate that the first thing that I did this morning was to get out my tax returns that I had picked up on my way out to the cabin the night before and looked them over. Not too bad. Paying all of that estimated tax sure does help lessen the blow on April 15th.

While there is an overall dark cast outside, the dogwoods around the cabin are very BRIGHT white, and just beaming out through the dim. This is what dogwoods were put here to do - shine the way through the forest. And these guys are working overtime.

The river below is singing a lively tune. And along the bank there is an old field or something that is almost completely covered with blooming dogwoods - looks like 50 or more of them. I must go down there and take a look soon - they are across the river, and it would be a bit of a swim today. Besides, I'm waiting for an important delivery this morning. There are birds singing outside too, all lined up in the treetops around the meadow. And some of those mist clouds were being blown straight up into the air from the valley below.

The new hot tub showed up right on time, and we actually managed to get all 650 pounds of it from the trailer, across the lower deck, and down onto the platform that I had built for it without any problems. A roller system that they brought out helped out a great deal - only took four of us. The last hot tub that I put in at my house took about ten or twelve strong bodies to wrestle into place.

The tub looks good. It is sunken down into the deck, with about ten inches of it sticking up above the deck boards. There isn't too much room where the tub is sitting for deck around it - only 18 inches across two sides, but the other two sides will be open to the other decks.

We put about 100 gallons of water in the tub through the well - the cistern system did not have enough pressure to push water through a special pre-filter that came with the tub. After the well started burping, I decided to just fill the rest of the tub up without the filter, direct from the cistern (didn't run the well dry, but was probably close). Hey, it is pure Ozark rainwater, so what could be better than that?

The temp dropped to 40 degrees while we were out working on the tub, and with the wind and spitting rain, it got a little nasty. The wind chill is in the upper teens. After being inside for 30 minutes now, my hands are still a little numb, and I am having trouble typing. Too bad the hot tub isn't filled and heated up already! I suspect it will take another hour or two to finish the filling - got lots of water in the cistern. The tub holds 355 gallons. Unless I have some problems, or a lot of drunks spill drinks into the tub, I will change out the water a couple of times a year, always timed with a full cistern.

While I waited for the tub to fill - a very slow process - I decided that conditions were right for pictures. I packed my camera gear up and headed over to Dug Hollow. It was raining a little, and the wind was blowing, but the forest was rich with deep colors of greens and browns. The North Meadow was alive with several large dogwoods, each full of sparkling white diamond blossoms.

I dropped on down to the waterfall area. Believe it or not, I have never shot any serious pictures in Dug Hollow. Billy McNamara has made nearly 40 paintings of this area, but I've never taken a picture there. That was about to change, I hoped.

The very first waterfall was running full blast and making a lot of noise. I found a great spot on the side of a bluff that had a good angle, but discovered a large branch that had broken off of a tree and landed right at the top of the waterfall. Such things tend to mess up my pictures, so I try to clear them out when I can.

I made my way up around the little bluffline and on out to the edge of the creek by the branch. The rocks below my feet were very slick, and I tried to be careful. I had to step out into the water to get a hold of the branch. It was large, and very heavy. I couldn't budge it at first. I tried another position. Yea, I got a better grip, but still nothing. Then a third spot, which put me close to the edge of the falls. One big heave ho and, sh**! - my feet slid out from under me and I lunged towards the edge. I twisted myself around and grabbed for whatever I could get. My hands caught on the large limb, and it held in place, saving my butt from a nasty fall.

I pulled myself up to safety, and stood up and took a few deep breaths. Watch it buddy. While it might be a nice place to die, I have too much left to do to go right now! I was shaking a little, as I returned to my chore, even more careful this time. I found out that I could roll the limb and it would move, so in a minute or two I was able to get the offending yet life saving branch out of the way of my picture. Deep breath.

When I got back to my perch on the side of the bluff, I decided that I didn't want to take the picture after all. Sometimes it just happens like that. I was anxious to see what the other falls looked like.

The next waterfall was spectacular, and I got out the camera gear and shot away. The next waterfall was spectacular, and I got out the camera gear and shot away. The next waterfall was spectacular, and I got out the camera gear and shot away. I guess you get the picture. Sorry for that little pun. Wow, what a wonderful area in the rain!

I worked my way down through the cascades, crossing over a time or two for a different angle. I ended up deep in the back of the large overhang at the lower end of the falls area, finished up my third roll of film, and headed back. I couldn't pass up that very first waterfall, so I shot a few of it too. Dug Hollow is indeed one wonderful spot, perhaps one of the best little waterfall areas there is. So is Hubbard Hollow, Bowers Hollow, Hawk Hollow, Boen Gulf, Terrapin Branch, Indian Creek, and, well, you get the idea. I love waterfalls.

It felt GREAT to get out and work behind a camera. I can't believe that sometimes I get paid to do this.

Two wonderful things happened to me on the hike back. First, I had a vision of my next book project, or should I say my next picture book project. Everyone has been asking what that was going to be, and I have not been able to give any answer. I won't go into details just yet, but let's just say that it will happen next spring, but it won't be just Buffalo River pics. All new stuff though. And a few essays. Yea, this book idea feels good, right from the very start. I will have to think about it and run it through my slow brain for a few months. But at least I now have a project in mind.

The other thing that happened was rather small, but made my heart soar anyway. As I made my way across a level bench, I noticed a bright white spot up ahead. The rest of the forest floor was this rich brown color (wet leaves). The white really stuck out. As I got closer, I could make it out - it was a lone dogwood blossom, sitting all by itself on the forest floor. It was big and pure white and about as perfect a blossom as you will ever see. The middle was filled with those neat green things. The high winds must have torn it off from its tree, sent it flying through the woods, then gently setting it down. I wondered what kind of sound it made when it landed. One little white dogwood blossom shining brightly in the forest. That's what life is all about, and I'm glad the waterfall didn't get me so that I could find it.

When I got back, I found the hot tub not only full, but overfilled a bit. I had to attach the drain hose and drop the level a couple of inches. Then everything was ready for the big test - did my electrical connection actually work! I flipped all three breakers, and sure enough, the tub fired right up and began doing its thing. Of course, the water temp was about 50 degrees, so it would take a day to bring it up to a good sitting temp, but I was a little relieved that the power worked. Now I've got to get a deck built around it - that's the next project.

The outside temp hovered around 40 degrees the rest of the day. I worked in the cabin on the computer, then raced back to town to mail my taxes. I will return as soon as the water is hot.

I returned in a few hours to find a black sky full of brilliant stars, and hot water. It was getting nippy outside, so I built a fire. It took a little extra work since I had already pretty much shut down the fireplace and removed all of the wood and kindling and stuff. Once the fire was roaring, I poured a small glass of wild turkey liqueur, got down to the bare essentials, and slipped into the hot tub. This moment had been nearly two years in the making.

And it was worth the weight. The heated Cloudland rainwater felt wonderful, and the view up into the heavens was just about right. My seat is positioned so that I am looking straight out from the cabin right on over to Beagle Point. Directly above me there are trees to the left and right, but a good hole in the middle, which was filled tonight with a constellation that I need to look up. I guess that will be one measuring stick of how the stars are moving around - which stars are in the open slot above the tub. I could also see some bright planets shining through the trees - Venus in the west, and Mars rising in the east.

There was a breeze blowing, and its coolness was a great contrast to the warmth below the water surface. That is what you are supposed to do in a hot tub - get all heated up and relaxed below, then be cooled off by spring breezes above. And then a shooting star broke out of the darkness and screamed across the sky out in front and over Beagle Point. Breathtaking! I laid back and counted my blessings.

Once I got back inside, the crackling fire dried off all of the remaining drops that my robe missed. The fire felt great. Something about heat, no matter if it comes in the form of hot water, fire, or the touch of a loved one. It soothes the beast and levels out the bumps of life, if only for a little while.

As I climbed the staircase to bed, the entire cabin was lit by the dancing flames below. I absolutely love spring in the Ozarks, but it was nice to have a little bit of winter once again. The down comforter soon drove me off to sleep.

4/16/99 Fresh baking bread. Is there any more wonderful smell to wake up to? The aroma filled the cabin, and I was lured from my feather nest just as daylight creeped inside. Apple cinnamon bread with butter and honey. Hum, is that on my diet? It sure was this morning. I ate a big slab of it and stood in front of the fireplace. Then I realized that I had a date with a hot tub!

Most people only use these tubs at night, but I use mine more in the mornings, in fact every morning (I have one at home too, and have had for nearly 20 years). The key is that you only are in long enough to wake up and stretch your muscles a little, not long enough to make you sleepy. I grabbed a Starbucks from the frige, and hurried down the steps and into the hot water. Ahhhhh. Yea. That's it.

Up above there were clouds moving, and coming from the west, not the usual south. Some of them were lit individually by the sun, which had not yet risen. The bright orange clouds streaked across the sky, racing each other. More and more of them lit up, and soon the sun appeared on the ridge way off yonder, and flooded my world with the same rays that had been lighting up the clouds. Man, this was one terrific light show! It looks like the sunrise will be visible from the hot tub most of the year, except in the middle of the summer. It will be interesting to track its path as it moves back and forth across the ridge.

The temp outside got down to about 34 degrees. There had been freeze warnings out all over, but it didn't quite get that cold here. The breeze probably helped some, although it did drop the wind chill down below 20. The temp in the tub was about 104. Ha, ha.

One more note about the hot tub. It is not intended to be a party tub, like many are. In fact, it probably will be off limits during parties. Water is the main reason for this, or the lack of it. Everyone who goes into the tub must be CLEAN, and have just taken a shower lately. There isn't enough water out here for many showers with a group of people. Also, I have found in the past that if the tub gets a great deal of use, then the water needs to be changed out more often. There isn't enough water to fill the tub. Plus, the tub only holds about four folks at a time anyway. So its use will be more of a private thing, for me and a close friend or two or three. Of course, it is also a fact that any clothing worn in the hot tub, including swim suits, adds detergent to the water, which causing foaming, so swim suits are discouraged. Hey, its a hot tub in the wilderness, what do you expect? But there will be many wonderful moments happen while I am in the tub, and I will try to report them as I can.

The sun has climbed high into the sky now, and the color is pure white. Many of the clouds have blown themselves away, and it looks like I'm in for sunshine today. I've got to unload a bunch of heavy treated lumber from the trailer that I hauled out last night, and build the small deck around the hot tub. There is also a new queen mattress set for the downstairs guest room, and two futons - one of them a queen as well - for the TV room downstairs. Oops, did I say TV? Well, not yet.

The scene outside is one of soft, multicolored hues of green and blue and white and grey. Sunlight is filtering through the clouds, and poking out directly through some of the holes, creating spots of light and different shades of green across the entire wilderness. Above, it is blue sky patches behind shaded clouds. Nothing very strong or brightly colored, but lots of different shades and patterns.

I spent the rest of the day building the narrow deck around the hot tub, and got it all finished up except for two short boards that needed a little special attention. Now I can walk around the tub without getting all muddy. Rails will be added later, and perhaps even another bear post in the corner.

The sun played tag with me all day, and never really came out for more than a few minutes at a time. There were lots of puffy clouds up there dancing around though, and scores of shadows moving across the green hillsides. The wind continued to blow all day, which made it cool at times. The temps stayed in the 40's.

One job left for me to do was to unload the futons and mattress set. The futons were no problem, but when it came to the queen mattress, I found that it was a little too heavy and cumbersome for me to handle. I tried every way, but just couldn't figure out a way to carry it. So I ended up using the turtle method. I got down on all fours, flipped the mattress onto my back, and sort of crawled around the end of the cabin and onto the lower back deck and into the basement. I'm sure it looked a little funny. In the process, of course, I hurt my back. Duh. Sometimes I find that there are things out there that must be done that I am just too weak to do, but I often end up having no choice but to go ahead and do them.

The clouds eventually cleared away, and the nighttime was spectacular. As I sat in the tub near midnight soaking my weary bones, another shooting star streaked across the sky. Down in the valley, there was a narrow band of clouds hovering tight right over the Buffalo, but none up in Whitaker Creek. It was completely dark out, since the moon was no where in sight (it is in a dark phase right now), but the white of the cloud bank shone through the darkness.

The temp was down in the 30's, with the wind blowing, and there was ice on the decks. It felt GREAT to climb out of the hot tub and into the cold breeze - this is when you know the water is at the right temperature - if you can stand and even enjoy the cold when you get out and are still wet.

Once I got back inside, I spent some time in front of the roaring fire, sipping a little Merlot and munching on fine dark chocolate. Another fine Friday night, and the only thing missing was a companion.

4/17/99 They had called for some snow during the night, and temps down in the 20's, but it never even got to freezing at Cloudland. Although the decks were still frozen, which I suspect had something to do with the wind, which brought the wind chill down into the teens.

I slept in late, then got up and slipped into the tub to survey my little world. I noticed that the water was a little dingy - we had to fill the tub with water from the cistern, unfiltered, and it looked like the hot tub filters hadn't been able to completely clean up the water, which was full of pollen and other stuff. I spent some time going from seat to seat rubbing dinginess from the sides of the tub. Each seat is a good one, with a wonderful view.

Before long there was solid cloud cover. It kind of looked and felt like a snow kind of a day, more like late October than mid April. No matter, it felt very good.

A burst of sunshine broke through the clouds and lit up a couple of the dogwoods down in the meadow. As if on cue, a bright male bluebird flew across the meadow and landed right in the middle of all the white blossoms. What a delightful contrast - bright white dogwood flowers and blue and orange feathers, all beaming in the spring sunshine! What means SPRING more than dogwoods and bluebirds?

After a couple of hours of messing with the little hot tub deck, I finally got it finished. All it needs now is a railing. I'm trying to decide if I should get another bear post or not for the corner of the new deck.

I also set up the queen-size futon frame, and the regular bed in the Aspen room. Hey, this new guest room is going to be pretty nice - I may have to move in down there. Need to get some little tables and lamps and stuff like that.

One of the continuing questions here is what I am going to put on the basement floor - paint the concrete and use a lot of throw rugs, or carpet the entire thing with that indoor/outdoor commercial carpet. I just can't make a choice. Right now it is cold, bare concrete.

I am taking a little break from cabin chores to write in the journal, and munch on a bagel or two. A friend just called me from the top of a mountain over near Ponca - she was on the back of a horse moving down a trail. Cell phones are great, when they work. They don't work too well around here, but I do think the coverage was getting better.

Outside here it is still rather cloudy and grey, but the new forest that is emerging is putting out a wonderful green glow. Way off in the distance, I can see a lone dogwood tree at the top of a bluff. It is just beaming white out over the valley.

And nearby the dogwood I can just barely see a giant sandstone block that has slipped off of the end of the bluffline on the other side of Hubbard Hollow. I've been looking at this block all winter long, wondering what it would be like to be sitting on top of it. I've also see it on my hikes to the hollow, but have never actually went up to touch it. The block has been slowly disappearing behind the wall of new green. I've got to go see if I can climb it, and soon, before the view is completely obscured. Perhaps tomorrow.

And I hadn't noticed it until just now, but the bluff over on Beagle Point is about to disappear as well. It's a layer of weathered sandstone, 50-80 feet thick, and covered with mosses and lichens and huckleberry. My gosh, that bluffline has been my constant companion out here ever since late October when the leaves fell off. I've watched it catch the first light in the morning, reflect moonbeams over to me, counted the blooms on the first service berry tree to bloom, and watched that tremendous cascade of whitewater leap from it. I have screamed cries of joy over to it as I discovered any one of dozens of new things, and even threw a few choice words that a way when things weren't going right for me. And now in a few days, I will have to bid it farewell for the next six months. Have a grand summer my friend! Good grief, I am getting all sentimental about a bluff.

A single beam of sunshine swept across the forest. It paused when it lit up the batch of dogwoods down next to the river - it was as if the sunshine and dogwoods were having a contest to see who was the brightest. Or perhaps it was just the sun recharging the blossoms. The spot light moved on, in search of more wonderful things to see.

The river below creates a blue stroke through the middle of all the green. I guess you could call it a "water" color scene.

Two young guys came walking down the road and knocked on the front door of the cabin. They introduced themselves, said they had been to one of my programs last fall, and then turned around and walked off back up the road. Kind of strange.

After I finished all of my cabin chores for the day, I decided to make a quick trip down to the new spring in Dug Hollow and take a few pictures. I had never photographed it before, and the conditions seemed right for some good light and even better water.

I struck out up the hill along my new trail path. As I climbed up I could see four or five different may apple forests down below. I wondered if all of the plants in each group are related, like Aspen trees are? The groups were really dense, and I even found several flowers - white with yellow centers. Very nice.

Nothing in the East Meadow. Before too long there would be lots growing in the garden spot there, and probably a bear or two munching on corn or watermelons.

I dropped on down through the bluffline, and stopped for a few minutes to admire a HUGE dogwood tree, in full bloom, that was guarding the entrance to Magnolia Canyon. I've not seen a larger or more full dogwood in bloom this year. The magnolias there were popping out, but no flowers yet. I have a feeling it is going to be a great magnolia year, like last year was.

As I slipped and slide my way on down the steep hillside, I went through some very lush areas covered with three or four different wildflowers, though none of them were in bloom. Then I passed through a stand of mayapples that were HUGE! I mean they were TALLER than my knees! And there were giant trillium, and some bloodroot leaves that were much larger than my hand. Something in the soil at this spot was really rich. It was tropical. A jungle. Spring in the Ozarks.

There were a few bellworts blooming, and lots of Rue Anemone. Come to think of it, over all, the Rue Anemone are about the only wildflowers that have continued to bloom through all of this cold weather. They have always been around. They are a small, delicate and nearly white flower. Good to have them here.

The creek in Dug Hollow was running pretty good, and I saw several nice little waterfalls, all dumping into emerald pools. I didn't linger there long, and continued my quest towards the spring. I followed alongside the creek a little ways, walking through a couple of perfect flat benches that were also lush with wildflowers and other plants.

Soon I veered off towards the hillside, where I hoped to find the spring. I went on and on, and on, and on. No spring. A little further. It must be here somewhere. My progress had taken me around the nose of the ridge, and I felt that this was just too far for the spring. So I reluctantly turned back, by way of climbing up to the bluff above, hoping to find the spring further upstream.

The hillside at this point was more like a tornado zone - you could hardly move because the underbrush was just to thick! Vines and plants and downed trees and rocks. Man, it was thick. Then I saw some orange paint. What? Out here in the middle of the wilderness? As I got closer, I realized that it was not paint at all, but rather some kind of bright orange fungus that was growing on several grape vines. It felt a little like thick jello. And very bright orange. (*One of my Canadian readers sent an e-mail suggesting that this weird stuff is either Fairy Butter or Witches Butter - her ID book description sounded right on.)

As I made my way up onto a bench, I came across a large chunk of sandstone that had obviously broken off of the bluff above. I climbed up onto the rock by way of a natural staircase, and discovered a solid patch of spiderworts, many of them in bloom. Not only was this one incredible batch of wildflowers, and growing on top of solid rock, but these flowers were WHITE, not the normal purple of most spiderworts. If you looked close, you could maybe see just a hint of color in the blossom. I couldn't hardly even step without getting some of them under my boot, so I backed away, admiring.

Still no spring. But I did see a couple of turkeys. Two large toms flew across right in front of me, one at a time. I could see beards on them, but the beards weren't all that long.

I eventually made it back to the creek. Where had I gone wrong? It couldn't have been further upstream. I felt a little silly. So I decided once again to follow the stream down towards the Buffalo, and break off into the woods later. It was a tough hike down, not because the terrain was so rough, but because there seemed to be one incredible sight after another after another down on the creek - all beckoning me to come take their picture. I'll bet I could have taken a different picture every 25 feet. It was marvelous. And in addition to all of those little waterfalls and emerald pools, there were lots of dogwoods in bloom and magnolia, all hanging low over the water. Splendid!

Soon after I left the creek, sure enough, I came right to the spring, and it was well worth the trouble to find! My goodness, I knew it was nice, but I didn't remember it as being to nice. The spring come out of the base of a small bluff, a bluff that I must have just walked above, not noticing the spring below. Then it spills down a steep hillside for a little ways, cascading down over moss-covered rocks, and creating a lot of whitewater. Once it hits a level bench below, it meanders its way through the woods, finally dumping into the creek, and then into the Buffalo.

The light was perfect, the water white, and the moss green. I set up my tripod, and began to fire away. I could never take enough pictures of beautiful things like this spring, no matter how many of them I had photographed before. And this one was special, not only because it is so close to my cabin, but because we discovered it quite by accident, and I have fond memories of every previous visit.

One roll shot. Then another. And another. I ended up shooting about 100 pictures, mostly from the same spot, although I did get a few different angles. Just as I packed up everything and was ready to leave, I noticed this group of ferns growing right in the middle of it all. Out came the camera again, and I shot another roll. In all, I had spent about an hour there.

Photography often times for me is something spiritual, very intense, and many times an emotional high. This was one of those moments. I plopped down beside the cascade, exhausted, emotionally drained, and thirsty. I got up and sucked down a few gulps of that cold water. It was SO SWEET! As I lay back on the forest floor, I realized that the sun had broken through the clouds, and that it was getting late. Yikes, I had better get back up the hill!

So I bid my little spring farewell and returned to the creek. I crossed near an area where there were several house-sized boulders alongside the creek. Lots of moss, and white water, and dogwoods and magnolias.

I headed up the steep hillside, racing the light. About half way up I found part of something that I had looked for many times - a section of the old Ryker to Mossville Trail. There it was, right under foot. I followed it for about a hundred yards. It wasn't nearly as wide as a road, but much wider than a deer path. It headed up the hill and into some VERY thick brush. Then I found this grapevine. No, it was a monster grapevine! I measured it, and it turned out to be a full twelve inches thick. That is one large grapevine.

As I looked around, I could see many grapevines, much smaller ones, but lots and lots of them. I had lost the trail in the thick brush, so I continued my uphill struggle. There were many times where I was down on all fours, grabbing whatever I could to pull myself up. My feet weren't much help. This is steep country!

I finally made it to the top of the ridge, and as I popped up through the bluffline, a blast of arctic air hit me. Since I was completely soaked with sweat from the climb, the wind was quite COLD! But the low sunshine hit me in the face too. I felt a little like I had just been freeze-dried.

It was a great hike, and I hoped to have gotten a good picture or two, but the cabin was a warm sight and I was glad to be back. I sat out on the back deck to cool down, sipped on a glass of wine, and watch the light show of the setting sun. You see, since the sun is constantly moving, each and every sunrise and sunset is a little different. The shadows move around with the sun, creating different shapes and forms out there in the wilderness.

The river was talking a soothing line tonight.

After the sun went down, there were several dark clouds over there in the west, illuminated from the fading rays of the sun. Out in front, up against one of those dark clouds, was the thinnest of all crescent moons. Even though it was small, it shone brightly in the western sky. And that scene got me to thinking. Clouds are always getting in front of and hiding the sun and moon, but I wondered, is it possible for the moon to ever get IN FRONT of a cloud? Hum. Looked like it did tonight. Sometimes things happen a little differently out at Cloudland.

And in the eastern sky, a point of red light shone through the trees. I set up the tele, and could see Mars rising. I've never really taken a close look at Mars, and its red blow, but it really is red isn't it. Being here at Cloudland, I am able to look at and keep track of some of the things going on overhead at night. I need to get busy and learn all of the constellations - a good project for the summer months ahead.

The evening drew on with a good bowl of pasta, some great bluegrass music on the Pickin' Post on KUAF, and a fine fire.

And, of course, I spent some time in the hot tub. I suspect that I will take a dip every night and morning that I am here. The moon had gone down quickly, and was replaced by Venus, so bright and full of life, twinkling through the trees. And Mars had risen just enough to be exacely opposite of Venus. In the southwest, Orion stood tall and proud. I decided that whenever the sky is clear, I would stay in the tub until I saw a shooting star. They happen all year long, with many minature showers and lots of really big ones, especially in the late summer. As I have always said, the more shooting stars you see, the more luck will come your way.

The owls were out late, and hooting and crying and talking to each other way up the valley. Sometimes it sounds like there is a party going on. I guess there is - an owl party!

I saw my shooting star, lingered a while longer, then went back inside to sit in front of the dying fire and listen to the Folk Sampler on the radio. Their theme was love songs, not what I really wanted to hear, but since I am still a hopeless romantic, I listened on. These radio shows on KUAF usually play some of the most interesting and unusual music, and tonight was no exception. Not the normal love songs for sure. They really dug up some great ones. A couple in particular were by Hal Bynum and by Lynn Miles ("Rust") - I must go out and try to find those two CD's - really nice stuff. I still fancy myself as a future writer of love songs. While I sold my wonderful maple guitar a few months ago, I do plan to get another one, probably a classical guitar with softer strings.

4/18/99 Clear blue skies, NO wind, bright sunshine. Temps in the low 40's. I slept in a little, and missed sunrise from the tub. I did get to see it out the loft window though, then rolled over and went back to sleep. Looks like it is going to be a textbook spring day in the Ozarks. I'm headed out in a few minutes to hike over to Hubbard Hollow. Since the sun is out, I won't bother taking my big camera equipment - I really need overcast skies for good pictures. But I still want to see this boulder-choked hollow with good water in it. And I want to climb up to that large sandstone block that I can see from the cabin. Hiking in the spring here is part of my job, and I must get to work!

I wanted to travel light and fast, so I only took a fanny pack with the little camera, a rope, bagel, a jug of water, and my note pad and pen. My feet got beat up from my hike the day before, so I put on my lightweight walking shoes, which I absolutely love anyway. Walking magazine sent them to me a couple of years ago to try out. They are made by Wilson, and are all leather. I've never had any problems with my feet while wearing them in the woods, although I have not used them with any weight.

As I headed out the door, my little friend the blue bird landed in the dogwood tree again. I just couldn't pass this one up, so I hurried back into the cabin to get the real camera. It took me a minute to get my long lens all set up on and everything on the tripod - looked like the little guy was going to keep posing for me. Just as I swung the camera around and pointed it at him, he flew off. Darn. Just a few more seconds and I would have had him!

I skipped on down the trail towards the river. Just below the bluffline I saw a Phoebe. He acted a little nervous, like these birds always do, with his tail bobbing up and down, so I figured that he was building a nest under the bluff somewhere. There weren't many wildflowers out on this hillside, but it was lush. Towards the bottom of the hill though, large numbers of phlox and firepink were out.

Whitaker Creek was running pretty good, and instead of searching for a dry crossing upstream somewhere, I found a log jam down near the mouth of the creek that I crossed with great ease. There were two main logs spanning the split creek, with lots and lots of smaller logs all mingled together - I guess you would call them drift wood, since they had been drifting in the creek and got washed up here. I'd not seen the creek when the water was that high!

On the other side I found lots of wildflowers blooming - more phlox and firepink, bellwort, crested iris, and this plant that reminded me of Arrow Root, I guess because of the shape of the leaves, but it was not that.

My route took me along the Buffalo, and I followed it upstream. Depending on the way the sunlight hit the water, the pools would either be blue or green. Sometimes an upper pool in a scene was blue and the lower one was green, connected by thrashing whitewater. The water was perfect, just perfect.

In one stretch of level streamside there were many clumps of bloodroot wildflowers - no blooms, just large leaves, and 15-20 to a clump. I had always associated bloodroot as individual plants before, not growing in groups. They guys were all very good friends I guess.

And then I came across this incredible forest of mayapples - as far as the eye could see, and growing so close together that you could not see the ground. They stand engulfed several trees, including one large beech. And they grew all the way to the river's edge. I just had to get a better look, so I got down on my hands and knees and then my belly and tried to crawl into the forest. Wow, it was wonderful! The earth was very soft. I could see into the forest a long ways, and found dozens and dozens of flowers under there, all of them bowing down to the ground a little. No way to photograph this, especially with my little camera. Oh to be two inches tall! I would love to be tiny and roam around in this forest, and sleep under the solid canopy. You know, you always see a smile on a lizard's face, and I wonder if it is because they get to hang out in places like this one. I loved it.

I walked through another stretch of flat ground that was completely covered with grasses, mayapples trillium, violets, and bloodroot. I mean SOLID cover! It was so lush. And then up on another little hillside, yet another kind of vegetation, without blooms, but lush and covering the ground. In fact, these little plants swallowed up several moss-covered logs and rocks that were on the ground (where else would a rock be?). At first, I was afraid to walk through this dense undergrowth. But then when I did, I looked behind me and saw that the plants rebounded and completely covered up my passing.

Then I saw lots of yellow violets, and at least three white flowers that I could not identify. Plus several other wildflowers of different colors, all sticking their heads out from the ground cover. Are you getting the picture that this low land was one of extreme richness? I could have spent days here.

There were also several squirrels that were playing on the logs and low trees in this area. They seemed to be having a good time and enjoying the spring day as was I.

As I headed up the steep hillside towards my little hollow, I came across several Jack-in-the-Pulpits, perhaps the strangest plants in the forest. And they are tough to photograph too. I've tried. And there was this one large mayapple that had a sweet gum ball lodge right in the middle of the leaf. If I took a picture of it, no one would believe that I found it that way.

When I got to the hollow where I was expecting to find thunderous waterfalls and giant moss-covered boulders, I was not disappointed. There were tremendous waterfalls everywhere! And house-sized boulders, all tossed about on the hillside like a giant had gone away and left all of his play toys.

Now let's see, should I explore up the creek or go around the side and climb around on all of the boulders? It was a tough decision. I did some of each. The waterfalls were great, mostly taller and narrow than those that I saw the day before. Some of the boulders were strewn across the creek, and there were often waterfalls inside the boulders, if you can imagine that.

I climbed up through one giant boulder, and when I came out on top, I recognized a spot where I had been before. The top edge of this boulder is covered with thick moss, and the rock drops off steeply to the stream below, and you can see several cascades flowing by. Up at that level, there were tons of umbrella magnolia trees, all leafing out, plus dogwoods and even a few redbuds. I sat down at the same spot where me and my friend Chally had lunch back in December - it was our very first day together. I thought about the beauty of the wilderness, of the rocks and the trees and the water, and I thought about how wonderful it has been to spend some time with this lady friend. I have explored and discovered many things because of her. At this point, our future is uncertain though, and so I may have to live with what has been. Some pretty nice times to live with.

Oops, pardon me, back to earth. I continued up the magnolia-choked canyon, and made my way around this big block that I knew had a secret passage way in it. Way in the back, there was a hole that led up and out to the top of the rock. Only today I found that a number of logs had been washed into the hole, and so my passage was blocked. Good grief! The water must have been REALLY high! I found another way around.

I finally made it to the top of the hollow, and the big waterfall there, and sat down and took a quick break. This was a wider waterfall, splashing on the black rocks far below. There were ferns growing all around the base, but there was no pool of water like there normally is with waterfalls this size. I guess the water is in such a hurry to see the rest of the canyon. There was one surprise here - a small but brilliant rainbow arched across the base of the falls. Yep, mighty fine.

OK, I had seen the wonders of the canyon, now it was time to turn my attention to the object of my search - the giant block rock up on the bluffline. I began to make my way along the base of the bluff, but found the going very tough at first - like nearly a vertical dropoff and no hand holds! I managed to get through the rough stuff, then things got a little easier.

There was a great deal of breakdown under this bluffline, like you see all over, but I came across this one section of overhang that had no large breakdown under it. The floor was covered with tiny chunks of flat rocks, none larger than an inch or two across. And it was all very dry and smooth. There were a number of half-eaten acorns scattered there too.

One overhang had a band of water streaming off of it. Down below, where the water hit, there was a band of green life about five feet wide that spanned the entire overhang. Where the water was not splashing, there was no life, only rocks.

And then, all of a sudden, there it was - the huge block of sandstone that I could see from my cabin. It was big alright, about 40 feet tall, and maybe 75 feet square, and flat on top. But wait, there was a second block rock, about the same size, sitting right next to the main bluffline. And alley about ten feet wide separated the one block and the bluff, and there was space of about 30-40 feet between the two blocks. The blocks were about the same size as my cabin. Hum.

I was at once overjoyed to finally be standing next to these monsters, but yet a little disappointed because it was obvious that there would be no way for me to climb up either one of them. A climbing expert (like my friend Chally) could probably run right up the side of either of them, but they would have to have rope to get back down with. Perhaps some day, when I learn to climb, I will attempt one of them.

From the side of one of the blocks there was a clear view of the cabin, about two miles away and at the same level. The old place looked pretty darn good! I sat down in the sunshine up against one of the rocks and had my bagel and gazed up into the blue sky.

This was one really nice spot. The little point of land where the blocks were stuck out into the main Buffalo valley, and I could see both up and downstream. There was an especially good view of the river downstream, the blue waters cutting their way through all of the new green below. And I could hear the river, just like at the cabin. I wondered how many Native Americans or early pioneers had sat in the same spot and gazed out across the wilderness. This was one magical spot for sure. And I would be back.

I thought about spring for a moment - why it was such a wonderful time of the year. The air was fresh and clean, the sunshine seemed scrubbed, and all of the vegetation was new and glorious and brilliant green. And wildflowers coming up all over, and new critters being born. It is a time of renewal, of beginnings, of hope, and of joy for the future. Yea, spring is OK with me. I love it.

Just before I left, I made one circle around both blocks. I discovered a way that I might be able to get to the top of one of the blocks, if I had the right equipment. I would be back!

I went over the edge and headed down towards the river. The hillside was about the steepest that I had ever gone down before! It was almost straight down, and there would have been no way that I could have climbed up it. At first, there was no vegetation at all - just leaves on the ground. Then there were lots of little plants and trees growing all over. Thank goodness there were lots of regular trees too for me to hold on to. I did spend a few moments sliding on my butt too - there was simply no other way to do it.

Right in the middle of the steepest part, there was a deer trail running across the hillside.

This hillside and the sliding reminded me of a hike that I took once many years ago. My father in law (at the time) and I took an old road trace up to the top of this pointed mountain on some land that they owned along the Little Red River over near Clinton, Arkansas. It was very steep, but the road made the going easy. It had just snowed about two feet the night before. We decided to take the short way down - straight down. After a couple of steps, it became obvious that there was no way we could proceed on our feet, so we just plopped down on our butts and slide all the way to the bottom - it was great fun!!! And I never even felt a rock or log or anything.

Anyway, as I got near the bottom today, I landed on the top of a small bluffline that ran along the river. I could peer over and see the wonderful waters below, but could not get down. So I made my way on over to the mouth of Hubbard Hollow. Just upstream in the little hollow, there was one last thunderous waterfall. A fitting end to a spectacular journey.

In the main river, there was a giant boulder laying in the river bed, sticking up about ten feet in the air. It was kind of protecting the mouth of Hubbard Hollow. The pool that it was sitting in was a deep turquoise, with whitewater both above and below. I climbed up onto it and laid down and gazed at the sparkling water below, and the sunshine and blue sky above. This was a wonderful spot, one of the best that I knew about on the river. Yes, perhaps even the best swimming hole of all in summer. Then I realized that this very spot was the subject of one of Billy McNamara's paintings, and I had it as a two-page spread in my picture book. Hey, I was laying right in the middle of a painting!

It had been several days since I had seen any butterflies, but the sunshine had really brought them out today. There were about a dozen of them cruising along the river here. And one pair flying in close formation - one was a tiger swallowtail and one was a zebra swallowtail. It was good to see them all out again.

And a bird flew up and landed on the bank next to the river. It was some kind of sandpiper. He bobbed his tail up and down constantly, and kept pacing back and forth along the bank, often wading out into the water a few inches. He was feeding I guess. Every now and then he would stop his bobbing and turn and look directly up at me. It is nice to be noticed by a sandpiper.

I headed downstream along the river. Just as I was about to put my foot down into a batch of leaves, a flash of white caught my eye, and just in time for me to alter the direction of my step. There was a cottonmouth snake coiled up tightly right in the middle of the pile of leaves that I was about to put my foot into. The white flash that I saw was the inside of the snake's mouth - he was trying to warn me of his presence, which WORKED! This guy was not all that sluggish either, like you might expect for this time of the year. I played with him for a minute, and he was very quick on the draw. I concentrated on where my feet were going a lot more after that. And I especially watched for white.

The rest of the trip downstream went pretty fast. I walked along the river, enjoying its every pool and whitewater run. It seemed that the river and I were one, in tune with each other, and with the earth. And we were both going the same direction, flowing downhill to the next exciting rapid and quiet pool.

Just before I reached Whitaker Creek, I found a group of wild geraniums, growing about a foot tall. The first really good wildflower picture that I ever took was of a wild germanium over in Richland Creek.

When I reached the ladder trail, I went into overdrive. My feet went faster and faster with each step. The steepness of the hill didn't seem to bother me at all, and I kept accelerating all the way up. About the only thing that I remember about that climb was one bright batch of phlox beside the trail, with a yellow tiger swallowtail butterfly feeding on the flowers.

When I reached the top of the bluff, I was greeted by my little wildflower buddy. He was almost in bloom, and now I knew what he was - a shooting star. There will be three blooms, and I expect to see them sometime this week.

Wow, what a hike. What a day. What a place. What a great time of the year!

The wind picked up and blew all afternoon, which kept the temps on the cool side. The sunshine called me out onto the back for an hour of natural worshiping, plus I cleaned off the big tub filters (the dingy water had already gotten the best of them). And I spent a couple of hours writing. Just another tough day at Cloudland.

4/19/99 There were two bluebirds sitting in the dogwood trees down in the meadow when I arrived back at the cabin around noon. Clear blue skies, lots of sunshine, temps in the low 70's, and a slight breeze. The forest has taken on this fluorescent green with all of the new growth. The world is so alive with great beauty!

I quickly unloaded the truck, strapped on my walking shoes, and headed out into the spring woods towards a secret little spot where I go sometimes to think, to reflect, and to cry. It is a small, comfortable spot, a canyon of sorts, with steep sandstone walls that are covered with thick green moss and ferns and wildflowers. There is a little trickle of water passing one end of it - this little creek eventually spills on down the hillside and runs directly into the Buffalo River. The floor is uncluttered and deep with brown leaves, with the exception of three chunks of rock that had been laid down from above. They too are covered with moss. One of them is up against the tallest wall, and it is there that I sit and lay back and exercise my mind and explore my soul. No one but me has been here that I know of - the entrance is hidden, and I steer my hikes away so as not to invite any company.

When I reached this spot today, I found a dogwood in full bloom, leaning in close to hear my thoughts. There were crested iris blooming, a couple of spiderworts, and a group of mayapples down at the far end, five of them with large white blossoms. The sunshine was streaming down through an umbrella magnolia tree, and casting shadows on the floor. I sat down, laid back, and looked up into the blue sky.

I came here today with a heavy heart and a bright soul. Sitting here in my little secret canyon and tossing all of my pain and triumph back and forth in my head does seem to ease the pain a little, and bring me back down to earth. There is so much beauty everywhere that I look, and the world has been so great to me, I should have a permanent smile plastered on my face. And I do most of the time.

There is a little bird high up in the upper branches of a nearby hickory tree that is just singing his heart out. I don't have my binocs with me, and so I can't even get a close look at this little guy. He must be calling out to someone, maybe even to me. Perhaps he just wants to let me know, like that little shooting star at the top of the bluff, that everything is going to be OK. And it is. The moss beneath me is soft and brilliant, the breezes are creating a kaleidoscope of bright colors overhead as the new leaves dance across the blue patches of sky, and the little bird and the river below are singing a melody as pure and sweet as spring water. Speaking of spring water, I am thirsty, and I think I'll crawl on over to the tiny creek and take a sip. Yep, it is sweet indeed, just like my life out here at Cloudland!

I leave my little sanctuary and head back towards the cabin, following a yellow tiger swallowtail butterfly that passed through the canyon. I am a very lucky man, and I count my blessings. And I thank you, the reader, for taking the time to wade through all of this with me.

When I got back to the cabin, I discovered that the swing out back had been neglected, and needed some company, so I got out a pillow and sat down for a good long swing and waited for aTV crew to arrive (they were going to shoot an "Ozarks Spirit" segment for the 10 o'clock news). The wind was playing music through the chimes in front, and there were many birds flying back and forth in the treetops. All at once, I was engulfed with about twenty butterflies - they were everywhere! Mostly the big yellow ones, but there were several of