Our Home in the Ozarks

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6058130272770450817.post-44158270961463421802007-06-30T13:41:00.000-07:002007-06-30T13:45:55.370-07:00Our Home in the Ozarks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_oN1j8AWp5C8/RobAkKzXxUI/AAAAAAAAAAg/4KvGdrVe3zQ/s1600-h/000_0036.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_oN1j8AWp5C8/RobAkKzXxUI/AAAAAAAAAAg/4KvGdrVe3zQ/s200/000_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081960957141828930" border="0" /></a> There are plenty of things we can all do to preserve this precious land that nurtures us. We're doing our small part, as best we can. Those of us who live in Arkansas are considered southern. We are also western because of our history (Judge Parker's Court and the new U.S. Marshals Museum soon to be built in Fort Smith) The history of the Cherokee, Marcy's trail drive and cattle drives also qualifies us as western. Not to mention the Butterfield Overland Mail Route that cut through our corner of the state. And, oh, yes, there's Jesse James and Belle Starr, stage coach and bank robberies. And the men wear Stetsons and jeans and boots and drive pickups. My husband and I own ten acres 21 miles south of the booming NWArkansas metroplex that I'd gladly put a stop to if I could. I suppose it's good for this impoverished state because there are jobs galore. Land values have soared and that's making it hard on the natives who've owned land here for generations. Thank goodness property taxes for owners over 65 have been frozen or we might have to give up this life we treasure. The new Interstate is six miles west of us. Both out of sight and out of mind. We have a live creek that runs through the lower six acres of property far from all that hubbub. A few winters back a family of industrious beavers decided our creek would make a good home. We were treated all that winter with their antics as they harvested many of the small saplings and built a dam. It grew until quite a lovely pond backed up behind it. Since the creek is in the low point of the property, these little beavers created a deep hole of water. I remember one cold day, when glistening icicles hung from bare branches, we made our way down to take a look. It was truly a wonderland, the bright sunlight reflecting in the ice and the crystalline water. That spring heavy rains came, as they often do, and soon washed away the dam. But for a short time we were privileged to enjoy watching these little animals do what they do so well. We do have hay cut off this six acres. In the valley a deep well drilled down into an aquifer supplies water for two households. Our home is on the opposite side of the road, halfway up what we Ozarkers refer to as a mountain, on another four acres. Behind our house, the land climbs and butts up against the Ozark National Forest so a great quantity of wildlife often strays onto our place. We do keep a lawn mowed around our house, a buffer zone of sorts against rattlesnakes and copperheads. A short walk through a stand of tall pines is my daughter's home, but in the summer the house isn't visible because of the trees. Where the property heads up the mountain out back, we've left it wild. The terraced incline is covered in shaggy bark hickory, walnut, oak, and some cedar and pine as well as an abundant undergrowth which is a fine habitat for birds and small animals. As a result, of course, we have occasional visits from small black bears, plenty of deer and coon, possum, armadillo and the like. Once we kept a few head of cattle and hogs, butchered our own meat, milked our favorite old cow daily and I kept a Tennessee walker for riding. We grew a big garden and canned and froze most of what we ate. My health will no longer allow that kind of labor, but I still miss it. I am grateful for the modern conveniences that allow us to remain here on our land where I can listen to the songs of birds and watch squirrels frolic through the trees. Where I can write in a serenity only the country can offer. The photo is the beaver pond looking toward the creek down below the dam.Velda Brothertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840437641918894913noreply@blogger.com