Tripping thru Arkansas

Last Monday, Larry and I arrived in Flippen, Arkansas, ready to battle the world-class record trout in the White River. Because of the heavy rains in the recent months, the river was three times its normal size. Excellent news for us novice fishermen...trout was to be had in high numbers. I have always loved fishing, even at a young age down in the creek with Dad nearby. You put that bait in the water and you don't know what's on the other end. My imagination is under there! We hired a veteran guide, Scott, (from neighboring Mountain Home) to float us down- and upstream on the river. Between Tuesday and
Wednesday the three of us floated close to fifty miles traveling in a long johnboat. Each of the mornings the river was coated with a dense fog, which generally cleared off by mid-morning. The fog added a mysterious, almost ghostly feeling to our trout fishing. For the first time in my life, I finally hooked (and landed!) three brown trout, one weighing in at three pounds. What a fish! Bragging may not bring happiness, but no man having caught a large fish goes home through an alley!!! That be me! The two days gave us fifty-eight trout, twenty of which we brought home for family and friends. Next year we hope once again to float the rivers of Arkansas.

Cruising on the Wild Thang
By Thursday morning it was time to leave the White River and head to Norfork Lake. We joined up with our friends from Mountain Home, Larry and Debra S. The game plan for the remainder of the week was to hop onto their 85-footer houseboat, The Wild Thang, and cruise the Norfork.

The boat's interior is quite luxurious with three bedrooms and two baths.








The top deck is outfitted with a bar and hottub and enough space to dance the night away! (which we did!)
The beauty of the boat was only outshined by the hospitality and generosity of the owners, Larry and Debra.









And what would be a trip without our old friends to join us! Altogether we numbered five couples, including our son, Scott and Tina, who hauled their boat down to the lake. Someone wrote: "Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."


The sunrises and the sunsets were inspirational and dramatic!





Such a wonderful ending to such a wonderful trip!

The Clothesline

"Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children."







Monday morning usually is laundry day for me. Among other things, the linens from the guest bedroom generally need to be washed. Routinely, after the wash cycle, I load up the wash basket and head out to the clothesline. This morning, for some reason, I reminisced about my childhood and memories of Mom and her laundry day. With a brood of seven kids, she unfailingly did tons of laundry every Monday. No new-fangled washing machine for her, nor a clothes dryer...she had the old wringer for washing and good ol' Mother Nature for drying. Dumping the dirty clothes into the hot water, she let the agitator work its magic. That must have been an improvement over beating the clothes with a rock near the river bank or using the rubbing method on a washboard (which I do believe she used occasionally for tough stains!) Mom had a small diameter club or wash stick she used to remove the clothes from the hot water. It was my job, when old enough, to feed the clothes through the wringer. I loved squishing all the excess water out and watch as the wet clothes fell into a rinse tub of cold water. Another feeding through the wringer; this time the wet clothes ended up in a large wicker laundry basket. Mom would haul the heavy load outside to the clothesline, which seemed to stretch for miles in our backyard. Faithfully, no matter the temperature, she hung the clean clothes out to dry through the day. On cold mornings, I remember when I took the clothes off the line they sometimes were "frozen" straight. The jeans, especially, seemed as if they could be made to walk on their own! To finish the drying process in cold weather, the load was taken down to the basement for the remainder of the day. I really can't remember the day Mom got a REAL washer and dryer; perhaps my six siblings can remember that. What I DO remember, is the fresh, clean smell that Mother Nature injected into the clean laundry, most noticeable in my bed sheets. I had determined during my teen years that I would forever wash my linens at least TWICE a week and hang them outside to dry. The crisp,clean smell and feel of the sheets was truly (and still is!) an aphrodisiac for me! Although I am too busy to hang out the sheets twice a week, I do manage once. I guess I am in the minority; most women find it more convenient to use their dryer. For me, Mom's routine has become enmeshed within mine.

War of Rascal-ly Raccoons

The battle lines were drawn Friday evening at midnight! The gauntlet was laid down and we took the challenge. In the end, we were VICTORIOUS!
After an evening patio party down the street, Larry and I arrived home, via our golf cart. As we pulled into our driveway, eight raccoon eyes stared back at us, frozen for a few seconds in our headlights. Yes, four raccoons were busy setting up housekeeping in our garage. In seconds the troops scattered--cowards, all! Larry and I believed the battle was won and we both slept soundly knowing the enemy was vanquished!
On Saturday, no more thought was given to the critters, and we went about our business. So naive we were !!

As Larry opened the garage door on Sunday morning, lo! and behold! the enemy struck back!






Apparently, one of the four critters camped out in the garage attic through Saturday, ready with his weapons of mass destruction--his paws! The sleazeball opened our freezer doors, emptying the contents. While in the "air-conditioning" atmosphere of our freezers, he dined on frozen bread dough, french fries, uncooked shrimp, deer sausage, chili red peppers, and a host of other goodies. What a smorgasbord he had! Bugger didn't even have the manners to close the freezer doors! The critter had managed to tear down paint cans, tools, scatter tons of nails, rip the clock off the wall,open drawers, and just generally create mayhem! Now, Larry pulled out all stops. Drastic measures were called for in such a desperate situation! THE GUN!

After searching the attic for a half hour, we knew we needed to call in the BIG GUNS--the Animal Control Rescuers.



For a mere five bucks they were willing to come in early on a Sunday morning and do their duty. Little did they know, we would have paid ten times that much! Two hours later Don and his assistant were still trying to lasso the coon. Eventually, the elite troopers were victorious.

The raccoon was transported five miles away and living large in the woods. All was well again. Or, so we thought.....
Sunday evening at 10:00 p.m. we arrived home to find the freezer door opened AGAIN! Our critter had an accomplice hidden away, ready to seek 'n destroy. This time, Larry was not taking any prisoners. Out came the pistol, and up into the attic he marched. Ten minutes later, a shot was fired, and peace was restored in the valley! Come Monday morning, one dead raccoon was given an "aerial" burial in the nearby woods.


And so, the war was over....