3/7/99 It had been more than a week since I had been to the cabin - one of the longest stretches ever! I was thankful to find it had not been burned down or blown away. The weather station did record a reading of 40mph a couple of days before, but not much rain. The floor on the main level and up in the loft was covered with wasp bodies. They must all be coming out and trying to fly into spring. Too bad for them - they should have taken refuge in a log somewhere else! So my first job was to vacuum up all of the crispy little things.

The sun was out some, but it was chilly - down in the 40's with the wind blowing. My legs were itching, so I had to go for a hike. At the edge of my meadow there were two service berry trees in full bloom - the first of the season at Cloudland. The river was so low that I could not hear its voice. I took the ladder trail down the steep hillside. Most everything was still in winter dress - lots of greys and browns. I was wearing my lightweight cross-trainer shoes, and I kind of bound on down the hill from rock to rock and from bare spot to bare spot on the trail. My body just sort of flowed on down the hill effortlessly. It felt great.

About half way down, I stopped to admire the giant red oak that is right next to the trail. Much to my delight I found a tiny trout lily growing right in the middle of the trail and next to the big tree - this is the first official wildflower at Cloudland this year! Trout lilies are amazing little flowers, so named because of the patterns on their leaves. And that pattern is quite often much more remarkable than the flower itself. The delicate often nearly white flower hangs upside down. This one was bowing to the immense tree creature growing at its side. They looked very funny together - the giant oak reaching high into the sky, and the tiny wildflower, with its head bent down in prayer. There were no other flowers around.

As I skipped on down the trail though, more of the lilies appeared (they are also called Dog-tooth Violet, after the shape of their bulbs), many of them preferring to pop up in the middle of the trail. Soon there were dozens and dozens of them, and I was glad to have their company.

The sky was overcast by the time I got to the bottom, and it was easier to see the stones in the old root cellar than normal. While I stopped to admire this historical structure, a blur of color caught my eye - there were daffodils blooming nearby! I love these guys. They were often brought along by the early pioneers and planted around the cabin. This spot was a homesite no doubt, but I had never found the chimney or any remains of the cabin foundation. As I walked on over to the bright yellow flowers, I was shocked to discover that they were growing in and around a pile, or actually a line of rocks that appeared to be - a fallen chimney!!! In fact, there looked to be two chimneys, one facing the other. The largest one had toppled over. I could see the outline of the cabin foundation too. And there was a dense field of wild iris framing the top of the big chimney, although none of them were in bloom yet. That would make one stunning picture - the iris and the daffodils and the cabin remains all together. And what was the most surprising to me was the fact that all of this was within a few feet of the trail - I had hiked right past it a hundred times!

I continued on down to the main chimney, right next to Whitaker Creek. There were no flowers to be seen, and I wondered if the folks ever planted any, if they all died out, or if they were just late bloomers. This is a nice chimney, and I took a couple of pictures.

Down at the river I found clear water moving on downstream at a leisurely pace. The water level was quite low for this time of the year - more like summer flow. The rock bar right there was wonderful - full of polished stones of all shapes and colors. And all of the tiny sycamore sprouts that covered the rock bar were bare of all leaves - just a forest of single stalks about a foot tall. It looked a little odd, but beautiful just the same.

I headed on back up the trail, huffing and puffing and sweating all the way, but enjoying the exercise a great deal. When I got to the base of the bluff, I turned and followed the bluff to the left. All of the times that I had taken this route before, I was more or less just trying to get somewhere, and wasn't really paying too much attention to the bluffline. But today, I wanted to explore the bluffline, and had no timetable nor destination.

And explore I did. What a gorgeous rock formation this is! Much of the base of the bluff is overhung - little shelters here and there. And the shelters are filled with wind and leave sculptures - piles of leaves carefully laid down by the wind in graceful curves. Some of the piles were several feet deep, and mostly undisturbed.

The bluff towered high overhead - up to 100 feet (I must measure it someday with the rope). And the color of the rock was amazing - blues and blacks and reds and oranges and greens. And there were different layers of rock, each having its own texture. Some layers were larger and smooth, others were thin and jagged and broken up. I walked along, and admired.

Once stretch of bluffline had a middle level of grassy slopes, and one slope was absolutely covered with wildflowers, about twenty feet above the base of the bluff. I could tell that some of the flowers were trout lilies, but couldn't see the second variety well enough to ID. I hunted for, and found a way up to that level. It was like a second bluffline, and I could walk along the base for a couple of hundred feet. I had to drop down to get onto the wildflower slope. It was a lush grassy spot, covered with lilies and the other wildflowers (small white flowers, also bent down, growing five-six flowers to a stalk - I never could make an ID). It was a marvelous little natural garden spot!

On the far end of my little world, the two blufflines came together, and I had to retreat back to where I had come up to get back down. I continued on, and soon came to another spot that I had wanted to investigate. There was a cave up there in the middle of the bluff, and a shelf. I hadn't been able to get up to it before, but I decided today was the day, and I found a spot to pull myself up the rock face and onto the ledge. The cave was pretty neat, a large opening and went back about 40 feet and then ended. It was about fifteen feet or so tall, with the classic fault line (crack) along the middle of the roof, and lots of breakdown on the floor. As I turned to exit the cave, I realized that it faced the southeast, and would catch the sunrise during the winter, and often the moonrise too. Hum, I wonder if an Indian had designed this cave?

I go up rock faces a lot easier than I go down them. Same goes for buildings and trees and such. And the spot where I came up to this spot was a bit of a stretch for me, so I wasn't looking forward to going down the same way. But there was this big tree that was laying right up against the bluff. I straddled it, and slid down. It was kind of fun, and I made it to the bottom lickidy split.

There was an area of big boulders along one level spot under the bluff, all of them covered with moss and leaves and such. Several spots looked like there were small caves underneath. I got down on all fours and crawled into one of them. It looked like the perfect spot for a bear den. I didn't have a flashlight, or I would have gone in a little further. There wasn't any smell, so I figured no one was home.

The next stop was directly below Hawksbill Crag. This big chunk does loom out overhead as you would expect. It was good to find that there was almost no trash on the ground - only one Sprite can, and a couple of other odd bits. This is one of the most visited spots in wild Arkansas. Hikers are by and large good people, and keep trash in their packs as they should.

There was another spot where the bluff was broken up some by grassy ledges and stuff, so I proceed to investigate. As I got about a third of the way up, and was still climbing hand over fist, I peered under a ledge and came face to face with one of the most frightening critters in all of the wilderness. A bear, nope. A cougar, hardly. This dude was REALLY scary, and strikes fear in even the toughest mountain man or woman. Within a foot of my face was the nose and beady little eyes of a SKUNK!!! Yikes! I nearly jumped off of the bluff. The skunk was a little shocked as well, but must have heard me scrambling up the bluff. He jumped up, turned around in mid air, and scurried to the back of the ledge. He had been laying in a pile of leaves, and there was a depression where he had been. I got the heck out of there before any spraying began. Whew, I dodged a liquid bullet!

I left my skunk friend behind and found the slot up through to the top of the bluffline, then headed on over to the Crag. Although it was Sunday, the weather was cold and I didn't figure on finding any hikers out. Much to my surprise, and to my horror, there were TWO tents set up at the edge of the Crag, right in the delicate spot that we have been trying to keep folks from camping at. Stupid people. Dumb. Selfish. And foolish. They had dug up several large rocks that had been put into place to keep people from camping there, and put their tents there. Then they made a large firering, had stuff scattered out all over, and even had a hammock strung between two trees, across the trail. All of this within feet of one of the most visited wild places in Arkansas. I was livid. Good thing there was no one around, or I would have gotten myself in trouble. I nearly yanked up their tents and tossed them over the bluff. I did break up the firering, and tried to put back a couple of the big rocks, which happened to belong under their tents. I just simply can't believe how stupid and thoughtless some people can be!!!

The sun broke back out just before dark as I got to the cabin. It was a wonderful hike, except for the fools at the Crag, and it was great to be back at Cloudland!

The phone rang, and it was Milancy McNamara. I had to run up a book for her, and a batch of books for Bill to autograph. While I was there, a tiny donkey appeared in their yard. Apparently a neighbor or sorts has a bunch of farm animals at their cabin, and the animals run wild when the folks are not around, which is most of the time. The donkey likes to eat pretty bushes. The donkey was chased off, but I heard that it returned several times. I also stopped off at Bob's cabin, and left about two dozen empty wine bottles there. His friend Benny Stovall makes some terrific wine, and so I help keep him in bottles.

I returned to the cabin to the smell of fresh-baking bread. Ummmm, must be suppertime! I stoked up the fireplace, then sauteed some garlic, tomatoes and broccoli, and added a package of Mozzarella Garlic Tortelloni, then sat in my big leather chair and feasted to the sounds of Crosby, Stills and Nash, and the crackling of the fireplace. This was a wonderful dish, but the only problem was that I ate the entire pan - about four servings! I was stuffed, so much so that there was absolutely no room for the fresh 12-grain bread. Oh well, the night was still young.

I went out onto the back deck to see what stars were out. There were only a few of the brighter ones visible - the rest were obscured by a thin cloud cover. The wind had picked up, and was blowing pretty hard from the EAST. That is not normal, and often is a signal that something is about to happen. Hum. It was cold, but felt great outside. Especially knowing the fireplace was only a few feet away.

The computer was fired up, and I typed on for a couple of hours. Just when it was time for bed, I cut open one of the many small loaves of fresh bread that I had made, smothered it with honey and butter, and sat by the glowing embers and had my little desert. As I looked around my little log cabin world, with my fat belly and my warm hearth, I wondered how in the world I could ever leave this place for very long. I had been gone much too long.

3/8/99 The wind howled and screamed all night - up to 40mph. When the wind blows like this, it sucks more air out of the fireplace, which in turn burns the wood faster, so I had to make a couple of trips down to stoke the fireplace during the night. Just before daylight, the pounding of heavy rain woke me up. Thank goodness - we really needed some rain! The fire was nearly out, and I got a little concerned when I realized that I had no more dry wood around! Oops. I crawled back into bed and snoozed a little longer, then got up for good as daylight, and thunder, filled the cabin.

The rain continued on - more than an inch already - and so did the wind, which was keeping up a 20-30mph pace. That easterly blow was doing its job. I don't mind the wind or the rain, in fact enjoy them both. But this wind brought the rain into the cabin. This had happened only once before, also during a big eastern blow - there were a couple of leaks under the loft floor by the back door. We have not been able to figure out where this leak is coming from, or how to fix it. It only happens when the wind and rain are just right. Otherwise, I continue to be amazed at how airtight this log structure is - not a peep anywhere else!

The wind was really thrashing about, which sent water, trees, birdfeeder, and assorted deck furniture off in all directions.

I braved the driving wind and rain and went outside and gathered up some wet wood. My log stash is against the east side of the cabin, under the six-foot overhang, and is almost always dry. Only the storms from the east, like this one, ever get that wall wet. There was enough wood there to last for most of the day, but I would have to go down into the meadow to gather enough for tonight. I would wait and see if the storm let up to do this chore.

Inside, it was soon warm and toasty again, and I was busy working on the computer while the storm raged on outside. I had the classics on KUAF for company too. The clouds were not hanging low in the valley like they often are during storms like this one, but rather were on top of the ridges, which meant that I could see down into all of the valleys. There were a few cloud banks here and there, but mostly small ones that were swirling and dancing all over the place. And there were a few juncos out too, braving the weather for a few treats at the feeder. The temp was in the low 30's all night and throughout the morning - if it was only a few degrees colder, there might be a foot of snow on the ground!

I enjoy being rustic and all that, but it sure is nice to have a computer and telephone out here at the cabin. That way, I can stay here through my work day and not feel compelled to go back into the office in town. In fact, I get some of my best written work done out here. I just don't do it enough. And the cold wind and rain just makes is all the much better. Of course, I must leave enough time available for naps too.

Part of the morning was spent designing a wall calendar that I am going to produce for the year 2000. I have never done a calendar before - it is just too cutthroat of a business, plus you only have three months to sell the calendars or they become worthless, plus you have to get a huge quantity printed in order to make the cost reasonable. At most of my programs, someone always wants to know what my favorite picture is. After having shot well over a million images in my career, that is a difficult thing to say. But I have decided to take a crack at it, sort of. I will produce a wall calendar entitled "Arkansas Wilderness 2000 - My Favorite Photographs." Well, there will be a dozen of my favorite photos anyway. It will be limited to a press run of only 2,000 - most calendars have a minimum of 10,000 copies. This will be a nice calendar, and perhaps the only one that I ever do. We'll see.

While I put lunch on to cook, I went outside and sat in the front porch swing and listened to the rain. The cabin is so well insulated that I can't hardly hear the rain hitting the tin roof. But it was loud and clear on the front porch. The rain was really coming down, and making all kinds of music. I leaned over the log rail and watched the puddles in front gaining strength.

The drainage was not perfect. Ideally I want the rainwater to hit the ground and then run off, not sit around in puddles, which might leak into the basement. But there were puddles. And they were growing. So I decided to get dressed up and go out and play in the rain. I used to do this all the time as a kid - play in the rain, making and then destroying little of dams of sticks and rocks and mud. This time I would be mostly getting rid of little dams, and digging out trenches for the water to flow through.

It was cold outside, and the rain was coming down pretty hard, but the work was fun, and immeditatly rewarding. It didn't take too much digging in the pools to create a waterway and free the rain. In the bottom of one of the pools there was still the faint impression of a bear track, left over from last summer. Two bears stepped in the mud right next to each other. I had the tracks covered up for a long time to save them.

The rain was splattering on the roof, and the wind chimes were playing a lovely tune. Drainage accomlished. I went back inside, down through my new "mud room" in the basement. I haven't really done anything to it, but merely try to enter and exit there and take off my muddy boots before coming up into the living room. I have to put Aspen boards up in the basement soon to finish it off somewhat, and I am having trouble tring to figure out exactly what to do with the remaining space there. I had originaly planned on putting in another wall and creating a bedroom. So far I have left it open - except for the three rooms already in place. If I was going to build the wall, it would be a lot easier to do it before I do the Aspen. With a little commercial carpet on the floor, this space will became a really nice spot. I also plan to add a couple of beds, probably futons, and, OH NO, a TV! No TV's are allowed up in the main cabin, but it would be nice to watch a video once in a while. Of course, there are always videos playing out at Cloudland - a different one out each window!

My chilled body was quickly warmed by both the fireplace as well as a heaping pile of hot veggies and rice. I got this new set of stoneware dishes from SAMS a couple of weeks ago, and one piece is this terrific shallow bowl, which is perfect for, well, for just about everything.

The wind has stopped blowing, and some fog is beginning to move in. I tried to lay down and take a nap, but the computer called me to it instead. Now the fog and rain are calling me to come out and play - it is 37 degrees and heavy rain. I try my best to obey the orders of nature, so I will go suit up and get out and soak up some of this wonderful day.

A driving rain hit me in the face when I stepped out the door. But it was OK - I was dressed for it. The fog was thick, and the forest was magical as I wondered up the lane towards the Faddis Cabin. I could tell right away that there was a lot of color out - the browns of the leaf carpets and the greens of the moss-covered boulders were rich, very rich. All of the moisture in the air, and on the leaves and moss, created the lush hues.

The wind picked up as I passed through the Faddis Meadow, but it died down completely as I entered the woods once again. I made my way across a big flat of timbered land - never been to this spot before, although it was right off of the trail. A thick stand of tall pines and pesky greenbrier hid the entrance to the big flat. I was really surprised at how large and flat it was - well, relatively flat. It just went on and on. And a pileated woodpecker that flew about was the only resident that I could find.

I dropped on down to the main trail and got to the Crag. The rain had stopped, but the wind was now blowing again. I was delighted to see that the foolish hikers had departed - of course, they left behind a second firering full of ashes . What is it with some people!!!!! Stupid jerks.

The roar of Whitaker Creek below was loud and steady. And I was stunned to see a cascading waterfall coming down most of the hillside right in front of me - it must have been nearly 500 feet tall. Not a big "drop," but rather a long cascade as the torrent of water flew down the steep hillside. I had been here before during heavy rains, but never seen anything like this! Wow, it was tremendous. All foaming whitewater. And there were several spots where the creek did a free-fall over a ledge. Very impressive.

And then I saw it, and it felt a little like being in Yosemite - way off down the valley, across the Buffalo River and up on the hillside, a HUGE waterfall. With the exception of Hemmed In Hollow Falls, I believe that this is the largest waterfall that I have seen in Arkansas - at least the next tallest anyway. This swollen river plunged over the big bluffline there, and then continued on in free-fall until it hit the steep forest floor below - a height of well over 100 feet. And this was no little trickle - it was large and impressive from even a mile away as I was. Just incredible! Then I realized that this giant of a waterfall was very close to my cabin. I was amazed.

I hurried down the trail back to the cabin - I wanted to get a closer look at this guy. I found that I could get a clear look at it from the lower corner of my meadow. What a sight! And from my spot there I could also see the cascading river that the falls created below, and it too was leaping from ledge to ledge and down the nearly vertical hillside. And then I saw yet ANOTHER great waterfall - along the same bluffline, about a quarter mile to the right. This one was massive too, although was less of a free-fall because it had more of a cascade at the top. I was proud to have these giants in my own back yard, if only for a few hours during a big rainstorm.

It was time to haul some wood, so I loaded up and spent about an hour climbing up from the meadow to the cabin with an armfuls of wood. The river had come up some, but was still running clear. Whitaker Creek, on the other hand, was a bit muddy, and you could see it mixing with the Buffalo waters far below. They both were making a lot of noise.

And then the sun began to burn a hole through the clouds. I never saw the actual sun, but was aware of its brightness in patterns on the floor of the meadow and later in the cabin. At the same time that the sun was trying to pop through, the cloud bank got lower, and hung out at the tops of the ridges. You don't normally see the sun when the clouds are so low.

Once inside, I dried off, served up a mug of Cloudland Cocoa (hot chocolate and Irish Cream), and sat down at the computer to write. I realized that not only were those big waterfalls in my own backyard, but that they were right outside my office window too! In fact, I could see them through the trees from every window on the east side of the cabin. Nice company to have. I had to close the blinds in order to concentrate on my work.

The wind had returned, and was kicking up to 30mph. The temp had climbed up to 40 degrees, but the wind chill was still about 10 above. Those log walls and that big fireplace felt pretty darn nice.

As the day drew on, I noticed that the Buffalo had gotten muddy too. And it was high, probably high enough to float. The river and the creek made a constant loud hush. The big waterfalls continue to flow, although not nearly as much as early in the day. The rain never returned.

But the fog drew in close as the light faded. It was a little strange, because the fog was so thick, yet the wind was still blowing 20-30mph. Usually a good wind will move the fog on out. I guess this wind just brought it in. The temp continued to climb, and was in the upper 40's by 8pm. By that time I had feasted on another bowl of veggies and rice (I like that stuff), spent a lot of time writing, and took a nap. The warm fog was so inviting, that I wanted to go out into the darkness for a walk. I don't like to hike with a flashlight though, so I stayed put and typed and listened to music and watched the fire. The rain total for the day was nearly two inches - we really needed it, plus a lot more.

Wouldn't ya know it, the fog finally got the best of me, and soon was forced out into it with my headlamp on. It was warm, but the driving wind made it seem a lot cooler. The fog was about as thick as I believe I had ever seen, or felt. My headlamp wasn't able to penetrate very much of the fog, and the walking was difficult. It was hard for me to even find the road. But it really felt great, to be out in it and moving around, so I spent about an hour wandering - up to the Faddis Cabin, then over to the East Meadow, then back down the hill through the woods to the cabin. That last part was slow going, and tough - I had to negotiate each and every footstep. This was THICK fog!

As I got close to the cabin, the glowing logs served as a welcome home beacon (I had turned on the outside spotlight). I didn't really get to see anything during my hike, except for lots of fog, and sometimes the ground at my feet, but it was a wonderful hour out in the foggy, nighttime forest, and I was glad that I went.

After a little more computer work, I turned in for the night. The sun is supposed to come out tomorrow...darn.

3/9/99 Sometime during the night, I got up to feed the fire, and noticed these bright lights outside in the sky. Son of a gun, the fog and clouds had been blown away, and it was clear and sparkling out. And the temp had dropped fourteen degrees. The wind was still blowing though, in fact making quite a racket. I had trouble getting back to sleep.

By early light a cloud cover had returned - no sunrise - but it was dead still out, not a whisp of breeze to be found. As I sipped my Cloudland Cocoa in front of the fireplace, lots of birds gathered around the seed feeder, the peanut butter feeder (which I had just refilled), and in the trees around the cabin. It had been a while since I had seen this many birds here. They were mostly juncos and little woodpeckers, but there were lots of them, and they were hungry. I wonder if all the wind had been keeping them tucked away somewhere?

The rivers down below were no longer muddy, but were still up and making a lot of noise. The cloud cover seemed to be breaking up a little, and the sun popped through a little hole just for a minute. I had planned to drive over and hike into Sweden Falls and take a few pictures, but I couldn't do it if the sun was shining, so I got into high gear and packed up all my stuff, straightened up the cabin, and sped off in my truck.

The faster I drove, the more the clouds disappeared. When I got to the parking spot for the waterfall, the sun was shining brightly. But there were still a few clouds around, so I packed up my camera gear and my big tripod and headed down into the woods towards the Sweden Falls Natural Area.

This is a wonderful little spot, with tall painted bluffs, rich moss-covered boulders, and one giant waterfall. The falls were running pretty good when I got there, but the sun was blasting part of the scene with brilliant white light (waterfall pictures look best when shot on overcast days - mist or fog helps too!).

There is this neat little witch hazel tree growing right at the edge of the pool at the base of the falls, and the patters of the branches have always intrigued me. I couldn't get the big waterfall shot that I had wanted (because of the harsh light), but I did spend a couple of hours there, taking pictures of the witch hazel tree, plus a couple of close-up shots of the waterfall.

When I got back to town, there were three different e-mails from folks who had already read the journal about the stupid campers - one hiker had even been to the Crag on Sunday and saw the tents.

3/12/99 An ice storm had hit Cloudland as we rolled/crawled down the hill late at night. We had shuttled our car at the far end of a 40-mile hike on the OHT that we are doing this weekend, and stopped by the cabin to spend the night. The ice was thick on the trees, and the old truck had to crawl through some of the low-hanging branches - probably scratched the hell out of my new Mercedes! The roads were OK though (except for the fact that there was one large tree down across the road at the top of the Boxley Valley hill - we had to drive around 30 miles to get here). It was cold in the cabin, but soon a roaring fire warmed everything up.

3/13/99 Daylight found us engulfed in more ice, and lots of fog. The radio said that we could expect TEN INCHES of snow today! Yea!!! The only problem is that we will be out hiking in it instead of sitting in front of the fireplace. Oh well, I love to hike in the snow, so it will be wonderful. The birds are fighting to get to the only feeder that I have left here - it was blown off of its perch, and is sitting on the deck.

And all of the bears outside are covered with thick ice, and have grown long teeth - the saber tooth bears have returned! The power is still on, but I'll bet it will be off before too long - the ice is getting really thick. We stopped at Bob's cabin on the way out, to photograph the daffodils there which were covered with the ice. Bob had the cabin all warmed up, and was ready to stay put for a few days if the roads got bad. The trees on the way down to his place along the road were really hanging down low, at times nearly blocking off the road. But we pushed through, slowly.

There were more bent-over trees on the main road out to the highway, but it was not too bad. As we headed south towards the trailhead, the freeze line in the trees began to make it way up. It looked rather odd to see all of these frozen trees covered with ice, and then see the point where there was no ice, and the trees were all dark from that point on down to the ground.

By the time we reached the trailhead, there was no ice at all, and it was drizzling. We hiked all day in that drizzle, which eventually turned to rain, then sleet, and finally into snow. The snow hiking was great! All of the rain though had brought the streams way up. We had to make six wet crossings (normally none on this stretch of trail), which got to be a little exciting as the snow got heavier. At one point, we had our wading sandals on and were walking around in the snow (about 3" deep) trying to find a good crossing. While our little toes were about to freeze off, the snow did make the frigid creek waters feel ALMOST warm!

We passed some of the tallest waterfalls along the Ozark Highlands Trail - they were wonderful! And flowing pretty good.

By the end of the day we were completely soaked, inside and out (I don't care what the ads or the sales people say - if you are backpacking in the rain, you are going to get wet, no matter how much your rain gear costs). I just happened to know of this great little bluff overhang near the trail where we could get out of the snow. It turned out to be one of the best little campsites that either of us had ever had. Not only were we out of the weather, but we could gather lots of DRY firewood that had collected there, and a stream ran under the overhang at the far end, so we could even pump water without getting wet! We spent several hours building up a nice fire and drying out all of our stuff. There was even a great level and soft spot to sleep, and we didn't need to put up the tent. When camping in snow, especially wet snow that was melting like this was, gets to be a pain when you have to pack up a wet tent in the morning. It snowed all night, but we were dry and toasty, and didn't have to pack any wet stuff!

3/14/99 It continued to snow all morning, but was warm (in the mid 30's), so there was no additional accumulation. We hiked past many great scenes of brilliant green moss-covered rocks sticking out through snow covered ground. By the end of the day, most of the snow had melted, but the streams and waterfalls were all running great. We finished up our hike in record time, and soon were back on the road again.

My hiking companion headed back to town (had to get back to work), but I returned to the cabin. I quickly discovered that the main road off of the highway was blocked with trees, so I drove around and made my way to the cabin from the Boxley Valley end. The folks who live along this part of the road had kept the trees and limbs cut out, while no one really lives along the other end of the road to get the job done.

There was a great deal more snow on Cave Mountain that we had seen on our hike. They had up to a foot in places, with more in the drifts.

As I drove down my little road to the cabin, I was expecting to find lots of limbs blocking the way. But much to my surprise and delight, there wasn't even a SINGLE limb across my road! How could this be? But there was still lots of snow around in the woods, which is what I was hoping for. Some of it had melted for sure, but it appeared there was enough left for me to play in a little.

One of my main goals ever since I had built this cabin was to be able to go cross country skiing right out the front door. The Ozarks are a great place to ski, and there are hundreds and hundreds of miles of terrific ski routes (old log roads make PERFECT ski trails, and we've got lots of them), but we seldom ever get enough snow. And this was the largest snowfall since the cabin was built.

It was late when I arrived, and I was tired and sore from the hike. I took a hot shower and built a big fire in the fireplace (the power was out, but there was enough water pressure, and hat water left in my great hot water heater, to take a good shower). Snow outside, a fire inside, and me in my little log cabin. I was in heaven. But it was an early evening, especially after I broke out the wine. My only chore was to get the cross country skis down from the wall, which took all of five minutes to complete. I was all set for an early morning ski, if the snow held out. And the lack of power didn't really bother me at all - there are lots of candles at the cabin now, and the fireplace for heat.

3/15/99 I was up early, and so was the sun. Clear blue skies, no wind, and a bit nippy outside - 25 degrees. Still no power, but I didn't really need any. I hurriedly gulped down my Starbucks, put on my skiing gear (same stuff as my hiking gear, only ski boots instead of hiking boots - the boots are about the same size, but the ski boots have an extended sole in front with three holes in them - to line up with the three pins in the bindings of the skis).

I didn't exactly get to ski right out the door, but there was enough snow on the ground about 50 feet away, so I was happy. I have two pairs of cross country skis at the cabin - my regular skis that I use in Colorado, and an old pair of "rock hoppers" that I use when the snow is thin and there is a chance of running over exposed rocks. These are the pair that I have hanging on the cabin wall, and they would work just great for my ski today. (Both pairs are waxless.)

As I got into the woods, the snow was deeper, and a little crusty. I worked my away along the bench, heading to the north. I knew that the snow would be deeper over on the north side of the hill. Yippie! I was skiing at Cloudland!!! Kick, glide. Kick, glide. Stop and giggle a little. Kick, glide. It wasn't the best snow to ski on, but it was good enough for me.

I made my way around the little point that looks down into Dug Hollow - where the big flat is with that skewed tree. It was fabulous. Wonderful. Exciting. And peaceful. All at the same time. I glided silently through the forest, past my big tree friends, then turned around at the end of the big flat and skied back again. There wasn't enough snow to attempt some real serious skiing down the hill, which was fine with me because I probably would have buried myself into the hillside anyway, but I was quite happy just to glide back and forth across the flat. At last, mission accomplished!

3/19/99 The road from Hwy. 16 was all cleared out (by county workers - THANKS guys!), but you could see the remains of lots and lots and lots of trees and large limbs that had been cut out of the way. As I unpacked my stuff at the cabin, a feeling of excitement as well as calm swept over me - I was going to get to spend four days at Cloudland - the longest in a while. I needed the time here.

The only damage from the storm was a cedar tree downed in the meadow, plus a couple of limbs out of the pine trees down there. The power had been out for about three days, but it was back on now.

I had brought out a new toy, uh, er, tool today - a new chain saw, a small one, a Stihl with a 14" bar. I set out at once to cut down the multitudes of small stumps that were a foot or so tall down in the meadow. My other saw's 20" bar has just been too large for these smaller stumps. But they were bugging me. So I cut and I cut and I cut. And in a couple of hours, the meadow's personality improved dramatically - it was looking more like a meadow and less like a cut-over forest spot.

The new saw did great. Although, I did try to cut through a rock early on, and had to stop and spend some time putting an edge back on the blade.

It was kind of cool - in the low 50's, with a slight breeze, and it was about the perfect working weather. And cloudy. The river was running a little low for this time of the year, but the color of the water was just the perfect shade of blue/green, with some whitewater, and it was making a little noice. They had predicted rain all day the day before, but there was none, and the same forecast was out for today. I worked on.

There were several folks over at the Crag - one guy had on a bright orange jacket, which caught my eye without the aid of the tele - this dude was BRIGHT!

Once I finished up with most of the little stumps, I got out the big daddy saw and went after the larger stumps. None of the stumps had ever been cut off from when I first felled them nearly two years ago. Cutting the stumps down to ground level really improved the looks of things. Some of the stumps were over 20" in diameter at the base, and hardwood, but the old saw just ate right through them. It did chase after a rock or two as well, and I had to get out the round file.

As the afternoon drew on, a red-tailed hawk came soaring by. His rust-colored tail feathers were about the brightest that I had ever seen - no need for binocs to ID this guy. I sat down and watched him for a little while. He would soar from one end of the Whitaker Valley to the other, then fly back (doing a lot of flapping), then repeat. I guess there was a wind current going in one direction that he rode, but had to work some to get back.

And, oh YEA, I found the first snake of the season! Well, it was almost a snake. Before I can cut off a stump, I have to move all of the rocks out from around the base of the stump. Sometimes this requires a little pulling and digging as the rocks are often firmly embedded in the tough Ozark soil. Anyway, there was a ringneck worm snake all coiled up under this one flat rock. I have always liked ring-necked snakes, ever since I found one in the front yard of my boyhood home. This guy was pretty large for a worm snake - nearly eight inches long when uncoiled, but only as big around as a pencil at his widest point. Ringnecks are very friendly. I moved this guy to under a nearby rock.

The first wildflowers of the meadow were out too - several delicate violets had popped up their heads. And there were these plants - we don't really know what they are yet, but we left them covering one section. They are single stalked, about two feet tall, growing thickly together. Anyway, they were all in bloom today - tiny yellow flowers covered their upper stalks. Not bright yellow, but yellow just the same. I will keep my eye on them as the season progresses. Glad we left them.

After a particularly tough stump, I laid back in the meadow and stared up at the cloudy sky. As I took a deep breath, I could smell rain - man, I love that aroma! Especially out here in the wild. Nothing else smells like it. The air was heavy, and sweet. Any time now.

I cut out a few more stumps, then the saw ran out of gas about half way through a big stump. Then it began to rain. A good spot to stop. I admired the now-more-open meadow as I strode up the trail to the cabin, sucking in as much of that wonderful wet air as I could with each step.

It wasn't a hard rain, but the drops were large. I didn't want to saw in the rain, but I did feel like walking in it. So I put a coat in my fanny pack and headed out to see if Bob was still around. He had driven out to check on things, and to clean up some of the mess from the storm. He had called earlier in the day, and said that the road to his north meadow was still blocked with debris, but that he wasn't staying long.

I hiked up the lane, silently, and listened to the raindrops as they made their way down through the tall trees around me, and landed on the forest floor with a soft splat. I didn't feel like wearing the coat. Sometimes you just want rain to hit you. This was one of those times.

There were a few little birds playing about in the Faddis Meadow as I walked through, and one squirrel took off like shot out of a cannon when I came into view, but I didn't see any other critters out. Not even Bob - he had already left for town.

I surveyed the downed trees on his road, and admired Bob's daffodils, now in full bloom (even the ones that had been covered with all that ice and snow were bright yellow). Then I turned back towards the cabin. Once I arrived, it was time for a nap. Since it was warm enough, and the rain was still coming down in large drops, but not too hard, a nap in the porch swing was in order.

Few things in life are as relaxing or as satisfying as kicking back in a porch swing at your log cabin in the woods and dozing off to the pitter-pat of raindrops on a tin roof. The struggle of life continues.

The rain showed no signs of letting up, and I had a little more sawing to do. I got up from my swing nest and fired up the large chain saw again. There was a pile of logs - each log 4-8 feet long - that I had wanted to cut up into firewood. That spot was mostly protected from the rain, so I spent an hour or so cutting up the wood. Now I had a good pile of wood under cover, just in case it got cold again.

As I stepped out of the hot shower, my aching muscles reminded me that I had originally planned to put in a sauna downstairs, along with a shower and, of course, a hot tub. Hum. A sauna. Plans began to swirl in my head. A sauna in the corner of the tool room, and a shower, plus a mat and some exercise equipment (I already have a great cross-country ski machine at home just waiting to be moved to the cabin). A tired body could hang out in the sauna, then shower, then proceed in an orderly fashion to the hot tub outside. Hum, I need to get that hot tub soon. And I thought about painting the basement floor, then putting down some nice carpets, including two large indoor-outdoor carpets in the mud room and at the bottom of the stair, connected by a runner. Then a nice bed and stuff in the guest room, and two futons in the TV room (oops, I mean the other "open" room). That would do it for a while. Now, if I could only get the rest of the aspen boards put up, the floor painted, and find a gold bar to pay for the other stuff!

After a tough day in the meadow, I needed a good dinner. This trip to the cabin was carefully planned - I brought a lot of food. Good food. Some that I wanted to experiment with to see if it could be fed to others. I had three choices for dinner - smoked salmon and herbed alfredo sauce over fresh pasta and broccoli, grilled sausage w/mustard from Switzerland (the best mustard I've ever had by far) with dried taters and onions, or the old standard Greek pasta. It was a tough choice, but I decided to take them in the above order. So I broke out a slab of smoked salmon that I got for Christmas, and fired up the kitchen.

The salmon alfredo pasta was good, very good, wonderful. Ahhhhh. With a little toasted homemade bread, a glass of wine, and a handful of dark chocolate mints. Yep, this wilderness living is tough.

And on the radio was Ozarks At Large, and later the New Blues Show, both shows on KUAF radio. It felt like a Friday night, and it was. Pure and simple. I don't normally like Friday's when I am in town, but somehow they take on a new meaning out here at the cabin.

3/20/99 Sometime during the night I got up and looked around - there were a million stars out. Quite a change from the cloudy and dreary daytime. An hour later I was awake and listening to the pounding of heavy rain. Quick change is a way of life, and often welcome. The water table is still very low in the Ozarks this year, and so the more rain we get, the better. Once all of the trees begin leafing out, available water will be sucked up in tremendous proportions. So we need to get a lot of water out there, in the streams and in the waterfalls and in the ground, just to keep up with the oncoming spring.

By daylight the rain had quit (in fact, it only rained for a little while). A veil of clouds hung low over the hills - not quite touching the tops of the ridges, but close. Steam clouds were forming and moving around, although there wasn't a bank of them down low like there often is. The temp was 42 degrees outside, and I built a fire in the fireplace - I had to have someplace to stand in front of and drink my Starbucks.

Then the kitchen opened. I had been waiting all week to fix this egg dish that I found the recipe for in Sunset magazine. Thirty minutes later I sat down in front of the roaring fire with a plate of Asparagus scrambled eggs (I tweaked the recipe just a tad, but the dish includes three different types of cheeses, green onions, fresh basil, and of course, asparagus). This was the best egg dish that I have ever eaten! I was impressed. And I wish that I had made more.

While I was in the kitchen working, I looked out the window and saw a big fat wren sitting on the log rail in front of the swing. He seemed to be calling out to me to let him in. I just love wrens. They are one of the few birds that defy the normal bird body shape, with that turned up tail and all. And they like to nest nearby. When I was growing up, there was always a wren that lived in an old sowing machine cabinet - in one of the little drawers. I was always sneaking a peak at the tiny eggs in the nest there. And the mom returned year after year. I never let the wren at the cabin in, nor did I share my egg dish with him. But I hoped he would find a suitable spot for a nest nearby. I guess if that happened, then I would need to begin calling him a her.

As the morning drew on, the cloud cover crept lower and closer. Soon the ridgetops were engulfed, and more wisps of fog were born and danced around in the valleys below. The temp remained at 42 for most of the morning. And no wind at all. There seemed to be a lot of little birds flying around - more so than usual. Perhaps they were all out awaiting the arrival of spring, which will come at 7:46pm tonight.

Several times fog banks would come blowing up from the below the bluffline and disperse into the air above. I never know what causes such behavior.

After lunch and a short nap, it was time for a hike. The temp was 42, but the wind still wasn't blowing, and so it felt rather warm out. The first thing that I noticed as I made my way down the ladder trail was that there were no wildflowers out anywhere. The snow and ice had sent them back into the ground I figured. As I got lower, and down near the bottom, a few bloodroot flowers began to poke their heads out. The flowers were still all rolled up, but they were pointed up towards the sky, just waiting for a little sunshine.

There was this one branch that had fallen across the trail. It wasn't so much a branch as it was a moss and lichen factory. This little branch that was about 1/2 inch thick was covered with moss and lichen that was hanging down several inches. I looked close. Some of the lichens had solid stalks that appeared to be actual branches of the twig, and very solid. I pulled one off, only to discover that the fungi didn't penetrate the wood at all, but rather had grown a sheath completely around the branch. It was a miniature forest, thick and lush and several different shades of green. Wish I could get something like this to grow inside the cabin. Of course, I have the very same thing in the trees just outside anyway. Neat stuff.

I made it to the river and wandered around little there. The water was up and making a lot of noise. Then I tried to figure out just exactly where to go next. The water was too high to cross the Buffalo. I could go downstream and make my way up Dug Hollow, past all of the big waterfalls there. Or go up Whitaker Creek. Or climb up the old road through the bluffline and up on top of Beagle Point. Then I could follow the ridgetop way upstream, and drop down to Whitaker Creek and come around past the Crag that way. That sounded good to me.

The first order of business was to get across Whitaker Creek. The water was too high for me to cross near the old homesite, where I usually do, so I went upstream. I was surprised to discover that I had to go upstream quite a ways before I found a suitable dry crossing, and even that spot was a little suspect, but I made it across OK.

I wandered across the flat and up the hillside, eventually coming to the old road trace that heads up the hillside. There were wildflowers on this hillside - in fact, zillions of them! Tons of trout lilies and bloodroot everywhere, although they weren't really in bloom, just their flowers rolled up and hanging. There were several other species of wildflowers too. One species was in bloom, but the flowers were just SO tiny, and a delicate shade of purple. I'd not seen them before.

When I reached the road trace, I decided to follow it to the right instead of to the left (which goes up to the bluffline). The road actually went uphill just a little, then leveled off. It took me through some of the thickest brush that I have ever seen! In fact, at one point, it was impossible for me to stand anyplace without touching a brush or tree limb. All of this part of the hillside had been scraped clean by flocks of turkeys - they had scratched up practically all of the leaf matter looking for bugs and worms and such.

I finally reached a point where I could not find any trace of a road. I really didn't know what I wanted to do next, so found myself sitting down next to a big tree. I was going to sit there until I came to some decision I guess. Since I enjoy sitting in the woods anyway, that became part of my hike. The ground was covered with many different kinds and shapes of leaves (no turkey scratching here). Beech, red oak, white oak, shagbark hickory, and dogwood. A solid matt of brown leaves.

And there were a million trees out there in front of me. I wondered just exactly how many I could see. What the heck, I might as well count them. So I did. I counted every visible tree trunk that I could see within my line of vision (everything that I could see from far left to far right). 440 trees. It took a while to count them, but I was in no hurry. How many times have you sat on the forest floor and counted all of the trees that you could see? You should try it sometime. It is well worth your time.

Once my sitting and tree countin' was over, I got up and just started to wander down the hillside. Then I found the old road trace again, or what I thought was it. There were about a dozen piles of rocks all in a row, heading up and across a hillside. I followed. Sure enough, eventually there was a road trace visible. It was heading up the Whitaker Creek drainage, just like someone had noted once in a short conversation that I had had with an old timer last year. I'd never come across any road up this drainage before.

At one point I lost the road trace again. After milling around for a few minutes, it jumped out and slapped me in the face - right in front of me there was a plain road heading nearly straight up the hillside. Yikes, this was one steep road! I followed it up and up. Whitaker Creek was roaring down below and just out of sight. I guess the route had to climb this hill to avoid the creek, but it would have been a tough haul for man or beast.

Once the road leveled off, I lost it again, or should I say that I came into a level spot that was so magical that I lost track of what I was doing. This spot was wonderful. Large, no giant trees all over the place, and no underbrush at all, just a smooth floor of leaves. And most of the big trees were beeches. Tall and smooth and majestic. Most of the time when you see beeches this large they are all beat up and disfigured and ready to be blown over. But these guys were still in the prime of their lives - straight and strong and powerful. No rot or cracks that I could see.

I was drawn over to one of the larger beeches. As I walked closer, letters became visible. I had just been thinking about how wonderful it was to see such large beeches and no names scratched in them. But I was not displeased to see these letters. They were plain as day. And they were historical.

I had bought my land from this guy's son I believe, or perhaps his grandson (I will have to check on that). And he stood at that very same tree on the same day as today 74 years ago - first day of spring. I wondered what kind of man he was. Was he out on a hike too, having discovered this magical spot in the forest just as I had, or was this tree in his front yard? The letters were 2-3 inches tall. This was one giant beech tree, and it must have been large way back in 1923 too, or the tree would have grown so much that the letters would have been unreadable.

Some of the other trees had patterns etched in them, but I could only find one other tree that had words that I could read.

There were several words and some numbers below this one word, but I could not make out any of them. Hum. I wondered what it was.

I looked up and out from my magical spot in the forest, and noticed that I had come up the valley almost all the way to Hawksbill Crag, which was looming high above and just upstream. I could not locate the old road trace leaving this spot, so I decided to head down to the creek.

The creekbed was as lush as ever, all of the rocks being covered with bright green moss. And there was a lot of whitewater.

I found a spot to jump across (nearly fell in twice), then pointed my boots UP the hillside. This was one STEEP spot. Hand over fist most of the way. And I slipped and did a face plant a couple of times. Of course, this was not any big deal, since the hillside was so steep, my face only fell about two feet before impacting the earth.

There wasn't a soul on the Crag, and I hadn't seen anyone there all day. Guess the threat of rain kept folks in town. Don't know why - it was wonderful hiking. From the Crag I could see fresh tears in the forest canopy here and there - damage from the ice and snow storm. And then part of the opposite hillside got real light - looked like the sun was coming out, but the cloud cover was still pretty thick.

The threat of sunshine was enough to bring out some service berry trees. As I walked along the blufftop trail, I saw more than TWENTY of these trees in bloom. I had only seen four or five others this weekend that were out. They are the real first sign of spring, and the storms of last weekend certainly had knocked them back a week or two. But they were out today, and waiting for sunshine.

After a hot shower and a little liquid refreshment, I sat out on the back deck for a spell. The sun did indeed find a hole in the clouds, and came out for just a minute or two. And while it was out, it began to rain lightly. Hum.

It was time for another nap, so I stoked the fire and got comfortable on the big couch. Just as I was about to dose off, there came a knock on the front door. It was Bradley and Casey Woods and her dad, Bobby Young, who lives in nearby Swain. Casey and her family moved up here a couple of years ago from bayou country down in Louisiana. They all had a good look around, and I got to show off some more.

After my guests left, there was quite a light show out back. The sun would pop out and light up one hillside at a time, and would move around. All of the rest of the hills and ridges were black. The scene changed every two or three minutes. I never get tired of this scene, and it is always different.

It was time for an early dinner, so I fired up the grill and put on some chicken and apple sausages (sounds odd but tastes great!). Since it was about to be SPRING, I figured it was time for the BBQ. I also fried up some new taters and onions, topped off with cheddar cheese. Then I dug out my special mustard from Switzerland - man, that stuff made those sausages outstanding!!!

After such a heavy feast, I strapped on my boots and headed out for another hike. It was still 42 degrees, but it seemed a lot colder. The sun had gone down, but there was still plenty of daylight for an hour or so. I walked past one large maple tree that had been downed by the storm - such a waste. And there were several other trees down too, but not the wholesale damage that I had seen on other parts of the mountain.

I stood at the edge of the East Meadow and gazed up at the clouds. There were two layers of them. A lower layer of broken clouds was moving past at a pretty good clip. And an upper layer of solid clouds that were still. The lower layer was all lit up bright red and pink and orange, which looked really neat as they sailed past in front of the upper grey clouds. The light changed as I walked through the meadow, and by the time I had reached the far end, the lower clouds were grey, and the upper clouds were brilliant colors. It was all one moving visual serenade and a delight to the eye.

The little lane between the East and Faddis meadows was blocked with a number of small trees and larger branches from the storm. I started moving the ones that I could out of the way, but there were just too many of them, and too large for me to handle. I vowed to come back tomorrow with the chain saw and cut them out. One of the larger trees down was a red bud, and it had just started to bloom. Wouldn't you know it, the only redbud that was blooming had been blown over! And then I found the peach tree in bloom - or at least I think it is the peach tree. It may be the tree next to it, but they looked like fruit blooms. I'll just have to wait and see what it turns out to be!

And in the same area, I found a wild plum tree in bloom. Well, actually my nose found it - what an incredible fragrence! It was almost as wonderful as witch hazel. Almost.

Oh yea, I almost forgot to note it - the far end of the East Meadow was covered with turkey poop. And I mean some really big stuff. You couldn't hardly step without getting in it. Turkey poop is kind of khaki colored, with a white tip. Lots of khaki out in the East Meadow.

It was about dark when I got back to the cabin. Felt good to walk off some of that heavy dinner. And to see the spectacular clouds. The cabin was warm inside, and smelled like taters and onions. I took a seat at the computer and typed away the day's entries while folk music bounced off the log walls behind me. It had been a fine first day of spring. Well, actually I guess it isn't quite spring just yet. No wait a minute, yes it IS SPRING! I just looked at the clock, and spring happened just over an hour ago.

While we didn't have all that much snow here this past winter, I enjoyed it immensely. Lots of warm days and rain and weather and just wonderful hiking and sitting around. Winter is great for chopping wood and sitting in front of the fireplace. But spring is something else altogether. My favorite season by far. I won't be able to get enough of it, but I will try to experience as much of it as I can, and I will pass some of the info on to you. YIPPIE, SPRING IS HERE!!!

I went outside to bring in another load of wood for the fire, and was met with a black sky filled with stars. The clouds had all moved out once again. The Big Dipper was high above the cabin, and Orion was over in the western sky. And below Orion, about to slip below the horizon, was a delicate and beautiful orange sliver of a moon. Welcome back Mr. Moon - good to see ya.

3/21/99 Somebody was watching me again. It was 6:25 am. I opened my eyes and saw this incredible red ball sneaking up from behind the far hillside - the sun was rising. There was only a narrow gap between the horizon and a thick cloud bank. But the clouds had lifted just enough to allow the full ball of the sun to rise, then it was quickly engulfed by the clouds. The entire scene was shades of greys and blacks, except for that bright red ball. And then a pileated woodpecker landed and began to peck away at a tree just outside my window. It was all a wonderful sight. Though early, I just had to get up after that.

I walked out onto the back deck. It was chilly - in the upper 30's, but was very loud out. The river below was yelling up at me as usual. And the bushes and trees were filled with high-pitched squeaks and swaks - birds were everywhere! Hey, it must be spring. The first full day. I stoked the fire, and created another plate of breakfast, then took a seat on the deck and welcomed the day. The sun quickly burned off the clouds, and soon the valleys were flooded with warm, yellow sunshine.

Today was going to be a work day - no fun hikes planned. But before I got started, I noticed there were lots of juncos hanging around. I had given up on the only bird feeder that was left - will have to figure out a different spot for it and a new way to secure it. I tossed out a bowl full of seed on the ground, and I swear I could see instant smiles on all their little faces.

First off, I made my way up my lane with the small chain saw, cutting out small trees here and there that had grown into the road corridor. Then I did the same thing with the loppers, getting the limbs and small brush. When I returned to the cabin for oil and gas (for the chain saw, not for me), I found Tom Triplet and one of his former students at the door. They were staying in Bob's cabin, and had been out on a hike all morning.

I headed back up the hill with the oil and gas, and got the saw and worked on getting the road to the East Meadow opened up. There were a LOT of trees and big branches down across it. I sawed and drug brush away as best I could, and got the road open, but there were still dozens of trees that were leaning over the road and would eventually have to be cut out. I wasn't up to the task today.

Next I went over to Bob's and cut out a major tree that had fallen across his little road to the North Meadow. Bob doesn't use this road much, but the Woods boys do, and I didn't want them coming in late one night and find the mess waiting for them.

I hauled everything back to the cabin, and got out the big mamma saw and returned to my little meadow and cut out more large stumps. It took me ten minutes to cut out one bug guy. This was all a lot of work, but the meadow sure was looking a lot better. And the sun was out, it was warm, and I needed the exercise.

At one point I noticed several shadows moving across the ground. I looked up and saw a sky full of buzzards - 17 of them! Yikes! Just about that time, the saw ran out of gas. I took it as a sign to stop and take a break.

There was a steady stream of folks out on the Crag - twelve there at one time. It was a perfect spring day to be out in the woods. As I sat there drinking my diet Dr. Pepper, I began to see a lot of soaring birds. They were everywhere. Not only in Whitaker Creek Valley, but way upstream on the Buffalo too. Some were weaving back and forth close by, others were high up, and there were many way, way up. At one point I counted over 50 birds. I was getting popular.

But they weren't all buzzards. A lot of them were red-tailed hawks. And they were flying right in with the buzzards. I guess I should be calling them vultures - turkey vultures - since that is what they are. Anyway, it was great to see the hawks. There hadn't been too many around in a while. There were seven of them within my little area at the same time once. Don't recall ever seeing that many hawks here at one time before.

I didn't really have a formal lunch, but I did manage to eat a slab of smoked salmon. Really good stuff.

Since I realized that my chain saw must have been disturbing everyone over at the Crag, I decided to hole off for a while and do some different work. All of those stumps that I had been cutting down needed to be hauled off. So I got to work on that, and it turned out to be more work that I had thought. All of the stumps were still green I guess, and very heavy. A couple of them were so heavy that I couldn't pick them up, and had to roll them around.

Many of the stumps were just the right size for the fireplace, so I hauled them up the hill and put them on the ever-growing pile of firewood (which needs to be brought up the hill!). But a lot of the stumps I didn't want to burn. I ended up putting most of them out in the woods off to the side of the cabin. They look a little funny. They all have lichen and stuff growing on them, even across the top, which had been cut nearly two years ago. So I stood them right-side up in the woods. And they all look like they had grown there and had been cut down some time ago. Some of the stumps are lined up next to each other, and considering that fact that the woods are already pretty full of trees, they just look very funny and out of place, but yet still natural. I guess you will just have to come by and see for yourself.

Since it was so warm out - in the 60's - and the work was very tough, and there were still all of those buzzards hanging around, I had to take a lot of breaks. I spent a lot of time with the binocs in my hands, watching the soaring birds, and looking around my little world.

And I discovered something that I hadn't seen before, right out there in front of me. Well, it was actually across the Buffalo and up on the opposite hillside, but I should have seen it before - I've only looked at that hillside maybe ten thousand times. I guess the sun had to be just right. Anyway, I saw a road coming down from the top of the ridge, and it looked like it used to go all the way to the river. Another road, oh boy! I love finding old pioneer roads. One of these days I will have to go down and ford the river and see if I can find the road and follow it to the top, and to the bottom, and see where it goes. It's not on any maps. Oops, I take that back. I just looked at the topo map, and there IS a road there. But it shows it ending right in the middle of the hillside. I'll bet it goes further down, probably all the way to the river. I'll see.

Something else that I spotted was a giant service berry tree in bloom. It was way up the valley beyond the Crag. At first I thought that the light was hitting the bluffline in a funny way and making it appear white. But when I put the telescope on it, I could see the blooms. By far the largest service berry tree I had ever seen - this dude was as tall as the bluffline, which was probably 80 feet tall, and the tree was covered with white blooms. I had no idea those trees grew that large.

I returned to my chores down in the meadow, and got most of the stumps hauled off. There is still one giant one that I couldn't deal with, but I'll get him next time.

While I know that it is probably too late for this year, I put up a second bluebird box at the edge of the meadow. I had them up last year too, but the wind messed them up. This time I secured them pretty good, and hope they are OK. As I was pounding in one of the aluminum poles, a couple of folks came walking up the trail from the Crag that runs just below the meadow. We spoke for a moment, and then the lady asked me if they were going the right way. I said "that depends - where are you going?" They thought that they were headed back to the trailhead. Of course, they were going in the wrong direction! It turns out that I knew them - Susan and Larry Foley. We talked a spell and then I sent them off in the correct direction.

The sun began to get low in the western sky, and the giant shadows of the ridges crossed the river and began to make their way up the opposite hillsides. It was time to quit for the day. I stowed my gear, brushed off my overalls, and headed to the kitchen. Another big plate of salmon/broccoli/alfredo pasta out on the veranda. Good grub! And no finer spot on earth to sit and have dinner. The light show was spectacular. I think I'll have most of my meals out on the back now for a while - until next winter perhaps!

After I licked the plate, I made a quick jaunt over to the Crag - hadn't had a fun hike all day. I was astonished to see how many more service berries were in bloom - nearly double from yesterday. These trees sure did know what day it was (the first full day of spring). I walked back silently in the dark, and stopped once to look up at the moon, which was nearly straight overhead. And one of the bright planets (Jupiter, Mercury, Saturn, or Venus - they are all in the western sky this month) was nearby and very bright too.

When I got back to the cabin I called and talked to Willie Faddis, the guy that I bought Cloudland from. He told me that Clarence Faddis (whose name I found on the beech tree) was his dad's first cousin. He said that his dad used to idolize old Clarence, and that he was as strong as an ox. Willie and his wife run a poultry operation and farm in NW Arkansas. In fact I think they sold this property to me in order to build a new chicken house - thank goodness that they did! They both seem to have a sense of history about this place and a love for the land, as I do. Willie said that his initials were on a beech tree or two in the area.

It's late in the evening now, the stars have pushed the little moon almost to the horizon, and the river is singing a low melody in the night. The dinner dishes are clean and stacked, my writing chores are done for the day, and I just had a cherry Yoplait yogurt for a snack (hey, there's no chocolate in the cabin!). I would say spring has begun on a fine note, and I look forward to the rest of the season.

3/22/99 The howling of nearby coyotes signaled the start of the new day. It was good to have them in the neighborhood again. The sun wasn't up yet, but I had to get up and, well, you know. As I walked around, little "crunch, crunches" could be heard. That reminded me that it was a warm day yesterday, and so there are many little wasp bodies on the floor. They have been coming out of the logs every day its been warm outside or the fire was big inside since last fall, when they swarmed and crawled into the cabin. I never mind crunching a wasp body or two, but unfortunately there are as many lady bugs as there are wasps, and I hate to see them - they always die upside down, with their tiny wings outstretched. They need to pick a different species to partner up with and follow in the fall than wasps.

Sunrise found me at the computer, answering e-mail and working on my Y2K wilderness calendar. Since I didn't keep the fire going last night, it was a bit cool in the cabin, at least downstairs. It was a beautiful sunrise, although the sun wasn't the red ball that it was yesterday. Not a cloud in the sky, and the wind was blowing. It is a little later now, and the temp is rising with the sun. I love to see the sunshine flooding the cabin, and watch the light work its way down the log walls.

By 9am it was time to go home. The bright sunshine has been covered up with a solid bank of clouds, and it seems very cold outside. And the wind continues to blow, from the east - usually a sign that a storm is about to happen. The pressure is dropping. One of the big radio stations is predicting a 50/50 chance of showers later today. They are also saying that there is only a slight chance of rain. And they are giving the temp in Fayetteville at both 32 and 47 degrees. So much for radio station information.

3/25/99 It was a bright sunny day when I arrived back at the cabin. After spending some time sucking up dead wasps with the vacuum, my guests began to arrive. First, Bob Hostler, from Richardson, Texas. He would soon be joined by a flock of ladies from the Hot Springs and NWA areas, all members of either the Ozark Highlands Trail Association, the Ouachita Mountain Hikers, or both. Six young ladies in all, and Bob and I. What more could we ask for? (Erna, Betty, Paula, Ann, Sally, and LaQuita - all in their 50's and 60's.)

After getting things unloaded and stowed (the ladies brought at least several gallons of wine and TONS of great food), we all took off down the ladder trail for an afternoon hike.

At first, there wasn't a wildflower in sight. I was a little disappointed that my tiny friend at the base of the giant red oak wasn't even out. But soon after, a brilliant white bloodroot appeared next to the trail. Then another, and another, and then dozens of them. As we walked along, the display got more profuse. When we landed on the only level bench along the way, there were many excited folks. Within the small area where we were all standing, we found more than DOZEN different wildflowers in bloom - good grief! Paula is an ID expert.

Here is a list of what we found in this spot, and along the rest of the hike: Johnny-jump-up, trillium, violet wood sorrel, yellow violet, wood violet, bird's foot violet, bloodroot, pale coryoalis, toothwort, daffodils, wild comfrey, white trout lily, yellow trout lily, phlox, Dutchman's breeches, rue anemone, spring beauty, harbinger of spring, false garlic, and pussy's toes. Others that we found that weren't quite in bloom yet, but whose leaves were there included: mayflower, cinquefoil, wild strawberry, day lilies, wild rose, Adam and Eve orchid, Jacob's ladder, and sweet anise. It was one incredible display to say the least!

We explored the old root cellar at the bottom of the hill, examined what they thought was gooseberry growing there, and discovered the old hand-dug well right next to the chimney - I had walked right past it many times, and never seen it. This one was unusual because it was square, not round. The water was about five feet from the top, and then about five feet deep - a ten foot deep well (no telling how much it had filled in over the years). The water looked good. The old chimney that had fallen down there was surrounded by a large patch of day lilies, not yet in bloom.

We wandered on down to the standing chimney, where we found a large batch of yellow trout lilies that were just amazing - bright and big! Then we spent a few minutes on the banks of the Buffalo admiring the rushing waters.

We crossed Whitaker Creek, which was still running pretty good (Bob wanted to try out the quick-drying qualities of his long pants, so he slipped and went in while helping someone across the creek). Then we climbed up the hillside, where we identified the tiny flowers that I had found last week - they were Harbinger of spring. They looked pretty amazing through a magnifier that one of the ladies had on hand! We all got down on hands and knees to have a look.

Next we wandered across a hillside just bursting with bloodroot - I had never seen such an incredible display of wildflowers in the Ozarks - the brilliant white and yellow blooms stretched up the hillside as far as we could see - splendid! And we kept seeing this little bush that was flowering with tiny yellow flowers. At first we thought it was sassafras, but after we cut open the roots of one small bush, we decided it was not. There was a great deal of it around though, along with lots of gooseberry.

Eventually we made it to my new little magical beech forest bench area with the Faddis carvings on the one beech. It seemed like everyone was discovering new trees with words on them nearby, but the Faddis tree remained the best and clearest writings. We did figure out that one tree said: NOTICE: DEC 31, 1933. Another tree said: NOTICE ON THE OTHER SIDE. We couldn't read what was on the other side. Since there were so many of the carved trees along the old road trace, someone suggested that the area was where the Burma Shave people got the idea for their highway signs.

Oh yea, and we also found one small magnolia tree that had two modern tags in it - 64NE one tag said. I thought it might be a camera point for the Forest Service since they have many of them in the area (they go back to the same spot every 10 years or something like that and take pictures to see how/if the area is changing).

Up on top of one giant rock slab along the bench was a clump of toothwort - probably 50 flowers all together. Lots of cameras came out and snapped away.

Paula found a bunch of sweet anice. When mashed between your fingers this little plant has a strong smell of licorice. We saw lots of walking ferns on the moss-covered boulders, and beech drops here and there (a fungus that grows on the roots of beech trees and shoots up nearly a foot tall above the ground). And Bob spotted this one grape vine that was about ten inches in diameter and growing high up into the canopy.

We also saw a couple of butterflies (saw them both up on the back deck before our hike, but also found them in the wood during the hike). They were zebra swallowtails and yellow swallowtails - the first real butterflies of the season. They looked wonderful. And there was this one poor dead tree that had been worked over by a pileated woodpecker - it had dug out a trench down one side of the tree, and there was a pile of wood chips at the base that would make great fire starter.

The climb back up the steep hill on the ladder trail wasn't too bad, and soon everyone was enjoying the view from the back deck, and the chairs there. While we were talking about all that we had just seen, a number of soaring birds put on a show out in front. There were lots of the usual buzzards, but also a pair of red-tailed hawks. And then a pair of bluebirds showed up - yea! The male sat on a limb right above one of the blue bird boxes and eyed it for the longest time. I do hope they take up residence this spring! There was also a pair of doves that hung around.

Before long it was time to get started on dinner. And man, what a dinner it was! Lots of great food, wine, conversation, and even homemade angel food cake with ice cream and strawberries! These ladies can come back anytime. After the feed, the ladies talked of their past adventures all over the world, and told plans of new ones. They were a little concerned that they only had a few trips planned for this year - to France, China, and South Dakota.

By 10pm everyone was ready for bed. All of the ladies spread out on the living room floor in front of the fireplace, and Bob disappeared into his RV that was parked just outside. The moon and stars were out, and it was actually very bright outside, but no one was up for a night hike.

3/26/99 I heard noise downstairs. It was early, very early. No sun, but the eastern horizon was an orange glow. It was about 5:45am. Soon I could smell coffee, and lots of ladies working below, so I gave in and got up. Sally had put together some kind of wonderful breakfast dish, but it was covered with mushrooms (yuk!), which I can't eat. There was this great yeast roll dish, and we even had the juice of 24 fresh oranges, so I sat at the computer writing while feasting on the rolls and juice.

It had dipped down into the low 30's overnight, but it looked like it was going to be another bright and warm day. It had got up into the 60's yesterday. Soon the breakfast dishes were put away, and we all packed up for another great hike.

It was cold, but the sunshine kept things pretty warm. We headed on up to the East Meadow, where we found some tiny bluet wildflowers growing. I've seen these dudes for many years, but never knew what they were - only about 1/4" across. Then we headed down into Dug Hollow, through Magnolia Canyon, which was lit up very nicely today - lots of brilliant green moss on the canyon walls.

As we followed along the base of the bluff, we saw a few Alum root flowers and what was left of wild hydrangeas. There were lots of toothworts out, but not much else was blooming. There was quite a bit of damage from the ice storm - lots and lots of big trees and branches down, including several vary large beeches. Too bad. There was one large beech that had fallen over that had a twin attached at the base - only the older part had fallen down several years ago and was rotting away.

Robert's Falls was running pretty good, and so were all of the falls in Dug Hollow proper. We had a little trouble getting everyone up the bluff there, but after a few wet knees and a little help, we all were up.

As I was walking along, a grey squirrel jumped up onto the lower part of the bluff and started running out in front of me. He didn't seem to really want to get away, but just to stay a little ways in front of me. When I stopped to look at something, he would stop. When I moved on, he did too. And once, when I was stopped for several minutes, he turned and came hopping back towards me, then stopped and barked a little - trying to find out what was keeping me. He finally found a nice tree and scrambled up it and out of sight.

The ladies began to see some birds, including phoebes and pee wees. I found out that a phoebe will sit on a branch and dip his tail - one way to identify these little birds. And there were a couple of tiny birds down along the creekbed that were singing away. They weren't identified, but I was told to be expecting an ID as soon as they figured out bird call.

There was this giant grape vine at one point that was growing from the ground all the way up the sandstone bluff. I had walked within inches of it many times before but never noticed it.

From the falls area we headed up the steep hillside and visited the Woods cabin, Bob's cabin, and the Faddis Cabin. Then we took the trail down to the Crag, were we found a large group of folks from Kansas who were staying at the bible camp down near Ponca. One of the leaders was holding the kids legs (one kid at a time) as they would lie down and peer over the edge of the bluff.

Once we arrived back at the cabin, I forced the group to put in ten minutes of hard labor, and we shuttled some of the big wood pile down in the meadow up the hill to the edge of the deck. That was a great help to me! After everyone had a bite to eat, goodbyes were said, and they all vanished in a flash. It was a terrific group, and I enjoyed their visit. I told them they must return when a new wave of wildflowers comes up to help me identify them.

3/27/99 My brother and his wife arrived during the night from Illinois for a weekend visit. I had gone into town to get my mom, and we arrived back at the cabin late morning. My sister and her husband and their two kids, also drove down from Illinois, and soon we had our entire Ernst/Cecil clan together. It was a mini family reunion.

My mom was the star attraction, and we put her in the big over-stuffed leather chair right in front of the fireplace. While she wasn't exactly sure what all was going on, she seemed to be having a good time, and we all enjoyed having her in our midst (she is 81, with advancing alzheimers).

After lunch, I took my nephew and niece on a little hike. We went down the ladder trail to the river. That was the easy part. The flowers down there were blooming pretty good, and it was warming up. Then we headed back up the steep hillside. Since neither of my sister's kids are big outdoors people, I didn't really expect them to bounce right on up the hill. But they did do a pretty darn good job. I know of many other their age (early 20's) that would have given out and been left for dead.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with visitors, phone calls, and lots of eating. The Pack Rat called out from Fayetteville with an urgent message for a hiker that was hiking on the OHT whose father had died. My brother, who hiked the entire trail in August many years ago, took off with his wife to try to track them down. I didn't give them much chance, but they did find a car near where the message said these folks might be, and he left a few notes. When you are out in the woods, stuff continues to go on back in the real world. Sometimes, you just have to wait until you get back to civilization to deal with such things.

Towards dark I stuck out on my own for a short hike. It seemed like I had been hiking with lots and lots of folks the past few days, and I needed a few steps with myself and the trees. I found that there were a dozen or more wild plums blooming right at the edge of my land where the East Meadow begins (ends). And then these five or six peach trees in FULL bloom jumped right out at me - most of them are very small trees, and I won't see any peaches soon, but the blooms were quite striking. And there was a redbud or two out blooming, finally.

We had a great feed for dinner, including BBQ ribs, chicken, and all kinds of fixings, and STARBUCKS ICE CREAM for dessert! I had heard about this wonderful stuff, but never had any. These Illinois family folks of mine sure know what good food is. They also brought nearly a case of fine wines. Hum, some of those bottles didn't get drank, and wound up in the Cloudland wine cellar.

3/28/99 There was another big feed for breakfast, and then everyone packed up and left. It was great to have family at the cabin, if only for a day or two. I must say that the cabin was extra clean when they left. That is pretty good after the last four or five days of company.

I spent the rest of the morning working on the OHTA newsletter. It had rained some during the night, and continued on. There were lots of low clouds swirling around down in the valleys and up on the ridgetops.

Most people would call it a gloomy day, a type of day that I normally love. But today there was a dark gloom hanging around me too. A couple of personal things had snuck up and were rearing their ugly heads right in front of me. I am usually a very happy guy, but today I was just in this funk. Even the cabin and the rain and the clouds didn't help. I tried to nap, but the demons in my head kept me awake.

Outside, the rain kept on. It was one of those long, soaking rains - not too hard, but steady. After an hour or two of bouncing off of the walls (and doing a few odd cabin chores, like cleaning the oven), I decided there was nothing left to do but get dressed and go on a hike. Yikes, it is raining, foggy, and rather chilly, and I want to go on a hike? Absolutely. There is no finer medicine that I know of.

I put on my rain gear and headed out, hardly noticing the rain. There were no sounds but the raindrops on the forest floor. I guess if you stood still and closed your eyes and just listened, the raindrops would put you fast asleep - until you fell over and hit the ground! The sound of raindrops is always soothing, and kind of like talking to a good friend.

Up ahead I could see a wall of fog. I was in the clear, and the brown forest floor and the black trees were all well defined. But behind the wall of fog everything was grey and a little blurred. It was pretty level all around. My pace quickened as I headed towards this wall of mist, which was blowing right towards me. I didn't really know what to expect when we collided, but I looked forward to the experience.

It got closer. I walked faster. Then finally we met. A blast of cool, white, thick air hit me in the face. Man, that was one wonderful blast. I closed my eyes for a minute and let the fog rush right through me. It was kind of weird to see everything turn from contrasty to blur. It was like walking into another world. I loved it.

The rain let up some, and there was intermittent fog as I walked through the forest. There was no one at the Crag, but the view was just incredible! Clouds playing all around, and the sound of Whitaker Creek down below. I followed the blufftop trail back towards the trailhead. There was one wonderful sight after another, as the clouds parted and allowed me to see out from the bluff deep into the wilderness.

I followed the trail out to the registration box, or where it used to be. There was only a post there now. Still no one on the trail. Here is was the first full weekend of spring, the weather and the scenery were just incredible, and I was alone on one of the most popular hiking trails in Arkansas. That was just fine with me!

The trail needs a lot of maintence. Not only from the downed trees and large limbs from the recent ice storm (I cleared a number of the branches out of the way), but also just because this trail was never built properly anyway, and all of the use is wearing it out some. Most of it needs to be sidehilled, but the local Forest Service has a policy of not allowing any conveniences for hikers in wilderness areas (not a law, just their dumb policy). This trail needs a lot of work, especially considering the heavy traffic it gets. Perhaps some day.

My gloomy funk continued as I took the ladder trail down to the river. And so did the rain, only it was light. I found many of my little wildflowers to be all curled up and protecting themselves against the rain. It was funny to see all of the brilliant white bloodroot flowers wound up tight, with their wide single leaf spreading out at their base. They kind of reminded me of ballet dancers, all curled up and ready to spring into action. Our wildflowers certainly do put on a great dance.

I found that it was easier if I ran down the steep hill trail instead of just walking. I normally have to use my hands a lot to grab onto small trees to keep me from going down too fast. But I didn't want to get my hands wet today. Half of your efforts going down this trail are to slow yourself down. But when I jogged down, I didn't have to come to a near stop with every step - my momentum just kept right on going - so I didn't have to grab any trees. It was easier on my knees too. And it was a lot faster!

The river was singing a lively tune, but wasn't up too high, and was running clear. The polished rock bar along the near bank was wonderful, as always.

My head was still pounding with my silly little personal troubles as I headed up the hillside. I really leaned into the hill, and kept up a fast pace. I was thinking fast too. At the bottom of the hill, the problems seemed insurmountable. The hill was just the hill. The further up I climbed, the quicker my pace got, and the steeper the hill got. But my personal woes seemed less and less. I found myself transferring my mental energy from my personal problems to conquering the hill. I dug in deeper with each step. By the time I reached the bottom of the bluff, my heart and lungs were pumping full blast. My brain had settled down and my problems seemed distant and small.

The wilderness continues to challenge and amaze me, and no doubt saves me from having to go see a shrink from time to time.

Back at the cabin, I sat down on the back and cooled down from my heated climb. The rain was still coming down, but the wind was not blowing, and so all of the deck was dry, including the chairs. Since the wind blows so much here, the rain often gets everything wet. I like to sit out on the back while cooling down, plus it gives me a chance to take in the view. The fog lifted somewhat, and reveled a stunning view of the river below.

Inside the cabin it was warm. Very warm. It was 74 degrees, which was about as hot as I'd ever see it inside the cabin during the winter. I had to open a window or two and turn on a couple of ceiling fans. And the warm temps brought out many wasps - dead and dying wasps all over the cabin. I must return with some bug bombs soon.

I took the table cloth off of the dining table to take home to wash, which I don't do very often. The natural wood of this wonderful table was shining bright. There was a clear glass bowl of water with fresh daffodils in it, which complemented the wood nicely.

After a hot shower, I put on some music and sat back and relaxed a little. I realized that there were no less than FIVE quarts of Starbucks Ice Cream in the freezer! I decided that I wasn't going to make a pig out of myself as I normally do, and limited my intake to a single scoop from one container. It was good, very good. Later I had some veggies and rice for dinner (life is uncertain - eat dessert first!), and worked on the computer for a few hours. The temp outside remained around 47 degrees, with light rain - about an inch total for the day.

3/31/99 I drove like hell to get to the cabin in time. The sky was blue, the sun was getting close to the western horizon. I had to make it to Cloudland by sunset. And I did. I knew it was close. I ran out onto the back deck, not even going inside the cabin. There is was, right on cue - a giant, beautiful, incredible, living BLUE MOON rising above the far hillside. The full moon always rises at sunset. This was the second full moon of the month - which is a blue moon - and the second blue moon this year. I head that happened last 84 years ago.

Anyway, the moon was gorgeous, and it cleared the treetops in a hurry and climbed high in the sky. This thing has magic. It is magic. When the moonlight strikes your face, you are blessed. I know that everyone thinks that weird things happened during the full moon, but I think that WONDERFUL things happen! All I had to do was to look around me and see that was the truth. The wilderness spread out before me was a marvel of nature.

The light quietly changed from white to yellow to "Ozark Glow" to soft moonlight, which highlighted the ridgetops. A haze hung in the air, and the scene did turn a little eerie. I remember one night when the big helicopter came by for a visit - it looked a lot like this. I sat in the swing and let the moon take me over...

The wind picked up, and soon I had to retreat into the cabin. It was then that I realized that there were still five quarts of Starbucks ice cream in the freezer. I put on a long-sleeve shirt, scooped up a mug of the frozen cream, and returned to the swing. Heaven must be like this - great ice cream, a gentle breeze (actually this was a HARD wind!), and blue moon light across the wilderness. Now, where was that lady that I wanted to share it all with?

March had been one more terrific month at Cloudland. A bit of rain, plenty of wind, and even some ice and snow. Lots of great hikes, and good visits from friends and family. But I wasn't out here nearly long enough to suit me. I will have to work on that. March is always early spring, but April has always meant SPRING to me. So I look forward to this next terrific month, and the last full month of the journal.