Ozark Campground

September 15, 1995

Dear Bill and Rene:

A gentle rain is popping on the roof and cool air is blowing through the trailer; I love it. We’ve been hosts at Ozark Campground over two weeks.

This week we’ve done trail patrol and discovered that trees are heavy, seed ticks eat people, and chiggers like Gerry. I’ve tried to break in stiff boots and listened to a zillion insects sing. Our only schedule (not counting weekly dental appointments) is every Tuesday when we pick up our mail in Jasper and buy brownies. Yesterday, we drove to Springfield in the fog and I had a root canal. Gerry had a tooth pulled and wore new socks.

Otherwise, we’re freewheeling but we work hard too. Monday on a 5.2-mile round trip Gerry cut brush and got tree limbs off the trail. Once he tried to lug a humongous branch from across the trail and out of a pond. He assumed it was short under the water, but it kept coming–it had a whole bouquet of smaller branches full of leaves under there, and was literally water logged. More tree kept coming up never ending, like infinity; it was like trying to reach the end of everlasting, and everlasting weighed a ton. I suggested he saw it into smaller pieces (everlasting is easier a step at a time.) That helped but the part in the water rose slowly. Gerry did a lot of sawing and tugging as he rescued bent trees by removing huge limbs of dead trees off them so they could stand upright.

What did I do? I heaved three medium branches off the trail, kicked some twigs around, and tossed away every little round piece of branch I found because when stepped on, they roll and throw you down. I’ve always been an underachiever.

We also watched a helicopter circle on a marijuana search and picked up trash in the campground. A man wearing overalls camped here one night and bats fly around every evening. I’ve noticed a sign on our road that said “Steep grade, use low gear,” and it seemed like a message for my life.  Gerry met three German boys in the campground and we both met a terrapin in the woods. The boys went floating and the terrapin had an attitude. The terrapin was headed toward Pruit Ranger Station. He stayed out of his shell when we talked to him and looked obstinate and pugnacious. His shoulders were broad, he was bow legged and bald (actually if he’d had hair, it would have scared me but his natural, terrapin baldness added to his tough look); if he’s still moving at the same lumbering pace he was then, the rangers can expect him to arrive by Christmas.

On Wednesday, we hiked three miles and a ranger gave me loppers. I lopped brush while Gerry sawed and tugged. We went through a bamboo grove which I dearly love–each stalk stands straight, brave, spare and elegant like Oriental art. It’s sleek, it’s sheen is lovely, it’s cool and smooth to the touch. While it lives and grows, bamboo is dark green with black markings and little tufts of tan at the top. If I were a plant, I might like to look like bamboo but it’s hollow inside.

In the woods, the wild grapes are so purple and juicy they fall from the vines and little pastel pink plums fill their own trees. They aren’t ready to eat but they’re luscious to look at. We have a persimmon tree in the campground and papaws in the woods. The papaws are called the Arkansas banana.

We saw a spider in his web in the woods; the web draped across the trail. The web looked so fine and the spider so big–round as a dime, red-orange gorgeous with a yellow, black speckled tummy–that we crawled under the web to keep from knocking it down. I scared the spider, though, and it ran into its cozy place–inside a curled-up leaf. Later, I was walking along thinking about something else and ran through the web of an identical spider; she fell on my hat and her web dangled in my face. I touched her with my hand and shook her off my hat. She fell on her back, on the ground, legs kicking. She looked outraged. Probably frustrated because she’d spent an hour weaving that web to catch a tasty morsel and got me.

We met an odd worm in the woods. It was a tawny yellow, about an inch and a half long. One end was a small point. The other looked like a pretty face. Two black eyes, a black mouth, and a black stripe across the top of its head. I’ve never seen a pretty face on a worm before. It looked like Bambi. On the other hand, worms being the puzzlements they are, the pointed end may have been the head. In that case, the worm had a pretty rear end that looked like Bambi.

But enough of my prattle. We think about you guys a lot. We really haven’t begun our adventure yet–this place is so familiar to us and our trips Springfield so regular. But our trailer is home. We don’t miss our house. And the rain on the roof and on my panty hose and the underwear on the line–is sweet smelling, rhythmic, and wet.

Love from Gerry and Rosalie