Fun in the Sun

(Fishing in the Bennett Spring branch)

Bennett Spring State Park, located in nearby Dallas County, and just a short 45 minute car-ride away from Waynesville, was our destination this week on our adventures through the Missouri countryside.

Founded by pioneers in the mid-19th century (most notably the James Brice and Peter Bennett families), the spring originally was used to power a series of grist and flour mills along the immediate stream and nearby Niangua River.  By the dawn of the 20th century, however, the area had moved from an industrial site to a tourist magnet. With a fish hatchery built in 1923, the stream started releasing fresh "mountain trout" daily, luring (pun intended) avid fishermen to the Bennet Springs area for a tranquil getaway in the Ozark Mountains.

Today the park draws 800,000 visitors annually who come to test their angling skills, hike the nearby trails, or just explore the 3200 acre complex. On Wednesday Sabrina and I added ourselves to the mix. We wandered some of the trails, viewed the fish hatchery basins, and enjoyed the serenity of the spring-fed stream where dozens of anglers silently taunted the trout with their fly rods.

(Prior to the pioneer settlement in the 19th century, the Osage Nation used the spring as an area for  fishing, camping and festivals. They believed the spring was created from an earthquake brought on by their Creator and subsequently named it "Eye of the Sacred One," as they thought it resembled an eye that was crying. The spring emits 103,000,000 gallons of fresh water, daily!)

(Anglers perch themselves at the top and bottom of the fish hatchery dam. Built in 1930 by the  Civilian Conservation Corps the dam serves to make the spring more inhabitable for rainbow trout - a non-native fish species)

(The hatchery predates the state park by two years and stocks up to 420,000 rainbow trout into the stream annually)

Had it not been nearly 90 degrees - even in the shade - we might have stayed longer, but Sabrina was panting heavily and even a a long drink from the stream didn't abate her fatigue and exertion. A couple of fishermen on their late afternoon lunch-breaks even commented on how "the pooch look[ed] tired." After a couple of pats on the head from the friendly admirers - who Sabrina was all too-happy to sniff their waders (which undoubtedly smelled like a fine trout supper) - we made our way back to the car.

Since my air conditioning went out a few weeks ago (don't worry, it's in the shop getting fixed today as I write this blog), I've been enjoying the old-fashioned amenities of a 460 AC (4 windows down at 60 miles an hour). Sabrina likes the arrangement quite well, as she is able to stick her snout out of the backseat window at any time and take in a deep breath of the cool, country air. However, on Wednesday there was nothing "cool" about the air. It was thick and humid and even the breeze seemed heavy as it came in through the windows.

By the time we returned home at 4 o'clock both the dog and I were ready for a nice cold one. As Sabrina sauntered to her bowl by the door, I opened the refrigerator and scanned the shelves. I grabbed a Bud Light, kicked off my shoes, sat down on the living room floor next to the air register, and just enjoyed the quiet of the house. Sabrina came over and laid her head in my lap, water dripping from her snout onto my shorts and bare leg. She looked up at me with her solemn brown eyes and I could tell she was exhausted...exhausted, but happy.

As I scratched behind her ears she slowly closed her eyes and I realized that I wasn't going to be able to move for a good while since I feel horrible about waking a sleeping dog. But that was okay, I was content on the floor, the cold air blowing at the back of my shirt. I laid my head against the wall and realized that I may very well pass out right there too, exhausted from the afternoon in the sun...exhausted, but happy.




References:
MO State Parks - Bennett Spring
Bennett Spring State Park
Mizzou Dept. of Conservation - Bennett Spring Fish Hatchery
Bennett Springs - A Fisherman's Paradise

A Warm Welcome

Sometimes I like to channel my inner June Cleaver, even though I know I hardly compare to the 1950's stereotype of the doting housewife. I keep my house clean, but it's definitely lived in and needs some spot cleaning here and there (i.e. - it's time to set the self-cleaning option on the oven). I like to get all gussied up for my husband, but usually this happens when we're going out for dinner or to a show (usually he comes home to find me in my workout pants and a t-shirt, with my hair in its requisite ponytail). I like being sociable, but you'd be hard-pressed to find me entertaining a women's afternoon bridge club and tea service (come over for a BBQ on the weekend, instead). I love to cook, but don't expect a five course meal every night (pizza gets ordered roughly every other Friday). And while I may not live up to the 1950's machinations of Hollywood TV execs, I'm pretty comfortable with what I do for my family - as should be all the other women out there taking care of their homes while juggling an array of other responsibilities. This understood, there is one thing I always find myself hearkening to an old-school mentality about - welcoming new people to the neighborhood.

(Welcome Wagon Woman, Suburbia, USA, 1950 - looks like the newly developed Bailey Park from It's A Wonderful Life)

I don't know if I watched too many episodes of Leave It To Beaver, The Donna Reed Show and The Ozzie & Harriet Show when I was growing up, but there has always been a very ingrained concept in my mind that when someone new moves into the house next door, or across the street, you need to take them some type of homemade food item (be it a lasagna or bundt cake).

When I was young and on my own I moved into my first place, the downstairs unit of a large farmhouse outside of Alexandria Bay, NY. I remember that my landlords/next door neighbors came over with a plate of food for me the first night I was there. While I can't recall the specifics of what the meal was, I remember how touched I was by the simple gesture.

Today not everyone sees the delivery of such a "gift" as necessary. Indeed, some people think it's downright weird. And while this saddens me - because society has become so leery and critical of people's simple gestures and compliments - I've learned to gauge whether or not new neighbors would appreciate a culinary welcome, or if they would think I was trying to poison them with a covered casserole for some reason.

Luckily for me, a new neighbor is moving in next door this weekend who I think would appreciate one of my gastronomic gifts! Sabrina and I got the chance to meet her the other night as we were taking an evening stroll, and she seems extremely pleasant and excited to be moving in to her first house. I hope that  I can make her feel welcome and that perhaps in the future she may do the same for whomever may move into our home after we leave.

(Brown Sugar Banana Bread, made today for the new next door neighbor. Find the recipe in Erica's Epicurean Creations.)

The 1950's often seem like an idealistic and fanciful time in American history. Undoubtedly today's modern woman could look at the likes of June Cleaver, Donna Reed and Harriet Nelson and roll her eyes at each woman's naiveté to the world around them and their insulated concept of the perfect, American family. However, we really should look to them and not see a perfect paradigm, but rather a golden example - be kind to others, respect yourself, and love your family.

In my mind's eye I can imagine an episode of Leave It To Beaver where Theodore looks at his mother one night before going to bed and asks her why she made a chocolate cake today, but gave it away to the new neighbors. The dialogue would go something like this:

Theodore: "Mom, can I ask a question."
June: "Why sure, Beaver. What is it?"
Theodore: "Why do you always make something for people when they move into the neighborhood?"
June: "Well, I suppose partly because my mother used to do it, and her mother used to do it; it's a bit of a common practice. But more importantly I do it because it makes people feel welcome and accepted. It let's them know we'd like to be friends. It lets them know we're a community and we care about one another."
Theodore: *With a thoughtful expression.* "Hmmm, I guess I understand."
June: *Gives her son a smile and a hug, then holds him away and looks in his eyes.* "And sometimes son it's nice, to just be nice."

Little Big Town

Never make a promise you can't keep! I'm sure I got everyone excited about my "Blog Blitzkrieg"...and then....no blitz. I am like an author who says their much anticipated novel is coming out "THIS SUMMER," but then fails to deliver. So, I apologize for those of you who have been sitting on pins and needles for the past few days. Hopefully this post makes up for it!

(The clock in Waynesville was placed on the city square in 2006 as part of a downtown renewal/beautification project)

Last week, on my Wednesday travels to exotic locales, I decided to stay nearby and do a travelogue on the place I currently call home - Waynesville, MO. 

Undoubtedly you've all been wondering when this day would finally come! I mean, Waynesville is THE COUNTY SEAT, and boasts THE LARGEST POPULATION (3,507 residents) in Pulaski County! It's what those in the more rural areas of the county consider "the city." And while I may jest about the bucolic bravado that Waynesville boasts, it has a pretty substantial history.

(Waynesville's Main Street - then Commercial Street - ca. 1888)

In 1808, the Osage Nation ceded all land east of Sibley, MO (then Fort Clark), south of the Missouri River, north of the Arkansas River, and extending to the Mississippi River, to the United States government. Called the Treaty of Fort Clark, this cessation of land was the first major treatise in the newly acquired Louisiana Purchase. It effectively opened up the doors for westward expansion, and relegated the Osage - after 1816 - to move out of Missouri and to the north and west of the Sullivan Line into Iowa and Kansas. 

Settlers from Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia and the Carolinas poured into southern Missouri in the ensuing years via wagon trains. By 1830 Waynesville (also called Port Royal in certain historical documents) had become a well established trading post situated near the confluence of the Roubidoux Creek and Gasconade River (Missouri's longest river at 300 miles). The freshwater springs in the area, coupled with the wooded hills and abundant caves drew settlers in with their picturesque quality. The practicality of being so close to clean water and a means of transportation - along both the Gasconade and Big Piney Rivers - made them stay. By 1833 the city was established and officially named Waynesville in honor of the Revolutionary War hero, General "Mad Anthony" Wayne. Within just a few years of its establishment the town would play an important role in our nation's history, albeit somber.

In the 1820's and 30's the Cherokee, Chicsaw, Choctaw, Seminole and Muscogee-Creek (aka - The Five Civilized Tribes) were living as autonomous nations throughout the "Deep South" - South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Missisippi & Louisiana.  However, with Andrew Jackson's election to the Presidency in 1829, and his fervent hostility towards the Native American population, it was inevitable that the 8th president would put all of his political and military muscle behind what he deemed a necessary action: the Indian Removal Act of 1830.

By 1831 the Choctaw Indians were the first in a series of expulsed Native Americans to be forcibly moved and marched from their lands in the Southeast to reserved tracts of land in the mid-American plains. This "trail of tears" - so named due to the number of Choctaw who died in the first year (4,000 of 15,000) from exposure, disease and starvation en route to their "freedom" - weaved its way through the southeast and into parts of Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas and - finally - Missouri, before ending in Oklahoma.

Between the fall of 1837 and the winter of 1838/39, members of the Cherokee Nation moved through southern Missouri along the "Northern Trail" - skirting the Gasconade River - to their new homes in "Indian Territory."  While many diaries were written at the time, documenting the tribes' westward journeys, three notable sources still exist which looked at the daily trials of the men, women and children that were forcibly moved into Oklahoma: Dr. W.I. Morrow's diary, the journal of Rev. Daniel S. Butrick, and the B. B. Cannon journal. These men traveled hundreds of miles with the tribes, recorded the number of deaths, the number of births, and the number of meals which the displaced received. They walked 10 to 20 miles a day with the emigration and documented each stop. Along the way each stayed at the Roubidoux Encampment in Waynesville, MO; "a delightful place, on the bank of the river, convenient to wood and water."

(A sign in the local park commemorates the encampment)

(A large black oak stands where the "volunteers" may have very well spent the night)

(The Roubidoux as it meanders through the park)

While the reason for Waynesville's early place in the history books of America may be relatively infamous, the town did offer a place of respite for more than the weary travelers on the Trail of Tears. By 1854 the city was on the stagecoach route from St. Louis to Springfield, and when the Civil War erupted in 1861 it became a noted place of interest for Union forces moving men and supplies from the railhead in Rolla to points in southern Missouri (Wilson's Creek) and northern Arkansas (Pea Ridge, Fayetteville, Ft. Smith).

In the same year a telegraph line was strung from St. Louis to Sprinfield along the old stage line, and the avenue became known as the "Telegraph/Wire Road." Occupying such a critical position, and with the elevation of the surrounding mountains offering pristine views of the trails and roads in the area, the Union forces under Col. Albert Sigel occupied Waynesville in 1862 - removing the Confederate flag flying over the courthouse, and building a small fort atop the hill overlooking the town square. In addition to the building of the fort, the army commandeered various homes and businesses in the downtown area, to include the Waynesville House/Old Stagecoach Stop, which was turned into a hospital for the duration of the war. 

(The Waynesville House - Old Stage Coach Stop - ca. 1885)

(The Old Stage Coach Stop today. Following the Civil War the building spent 70 years as a hotel, falling to ruin after the decline of Route 66. Condemned in 1982, the building was nearly torn down before being saved by concerned citizens who realized its historic value and eventually got it placed on the National Historic Register of Places.)

With its location on a highly traveled route, Waynesville maintained its relevance up until the early 1970's, thanks primarily to Route 66 and heightened troop numbers at Ft. Leonard Wood during WWII and the Korean and Vietnam conflicts.

 (Main Street, Waynesville - 1920)

 (Main Street / Route 66, Waynesville - 1943)

(Main Street / Route 66, Waynesville - 1950)

However, once Route 66 became overshadowed by the Interstate Highway System in the late 1950's, and following troop draw-downs at Leonard Wood - from our Far-East endeavors - the city became stagnant.

Still, those who had lived in Waynesville during its height were resolved to keep the city alive, and in the late 80's and early 90's the town came together to begin reviving the dying downtown district. As the town neared the turn of the century, it was reinvigorated by a population surge.  As the number of troops at Ft. Leonard Wood increased - due to the post's evolution as an Engineer-centric base to a "Maneuver Support Center (MANSCEN)," where the joint assets of Engineers, Military Police and Chemical soldiers and officers in the U.S. Army would be trained - so did the communities in Pulaski County, especially Waynesville. By 2003, with the country at war in Iraq and Afghanistan, the number of troops began to swell, and with it the communities around Army bases began to reach an all-time high; Waynesville was no exception.

In 2000 the population of Waynesville was 2,706 (relatively the same number of persons and households in the 80's - following the reduction in forces after Vietnam). In 2010 the population was 3,507 - comparable to the 1990 population, during the first Gulf War. Today, the lifeblood of of cities like Waynesville and others in Pulaski County are directly influenced by the health of the Army installation, Ft. Leonard Wood. Gone are the days of travel and trade, Americana and tourism - today Waynesville and the like survive from an influx of troops and the jobs created to support them.

While Waynesville is currently in a relatively prosperous place, when a troop draw-down occurs - foreseeably in the next few years - it may find itself in a precarious position once again. If history repeats itself, Waynesville will find itself in a lull - counting the days until the next caravan comes through or the next global conflict rears its ugly head. Let's hope it's somehow the former, and not the latter.

(The center square of Waynesville and the original courthouse - built in 1833)

(The square looking south on Main Street / Historic Route 66 - May 2, 2012)

(The square facing north on the aptly named North Street - May 2, 2012)

References:

Osage Nation - The Treaty of Fort Clark
Osage Nation - The Sullivan Line
City of Waynesville - History
Andrew Jackson - Wiki
Trail of Tears - Wiki
Trail of Tears Map - Wiki
Roubidoux Encampment Journals
Old Stagecoach Stop
Ft. Leonard Wood
Missouri Population Tables

Dog Day Afternoons...and Mornings

There have been so many things I've wanted to blog about lately - food, work, life and my latest explorations through the local countryside. With nearly a week past since my last blog, I realize I have been remiss in my updates. So, for my peace of mind and (hopefully) your reading pleasure, I plan to spend the next couple of days writing about all of the things I've been storing in my mental journal for the past week. Prepare for the blog blitzkrieg!

Sabrina enjoys a sunny afternoon in the backyard.

I am a very lucky girl, with a very lucky dog. Every morning I wake up - at the behest of my canine - around 6:30. After stumbling down the stairs and going outside with Sabrina, we both make our way back upstairs for our morning dance around the kitchen. As I pour the kibble into the waiting doggie bowl by the door, Sabrina patiently waits for my command to have at it. While she eagerly - and by eagerly I really mean voraciously - consumes the cup of food, I make my cup of coffee. After she's done eating we make our way to the living room, and while I'm sipping my cup of joe we watch a bit of news. Sabrina likes the Today Show, so I oblige her by flipping to NBC. After an hour of news, it's time for our daily walk - usually 30-45 minutes in the local park. On Mondays and Tuesdays, Sabrina enjoys the hours after our walk by pacing after me around the house as I clean up. On Wednesdays and Thursdays she's left to her own devices as I leave her and make my way up to Crocker to work at the animal shelter. On Friday mornings she usually looks at me with wonderment while I write a witty blog about our latest adventure, and then somehow cons me into taking her for another walk - partly because I feel guilty she's been laying around all morning/partly because she's got the most pathetic puppy face. All of our afternoons are spent either: running errands, taking cooking classes, exploring the wilds of Missouri, playing the piano, attempting to make a pillow with my new sewing machine, watering flowers, doing yoga, and/or prepping for dinner. Our evenings and weekends are spent as a family, usually doing yard work, lazing around the house, or taking hikes on nearby trails. It's a wonderful life I'm leading right now, and it's a wonderful new life for Sabrina....but that wasn't always the case for our sweet little dog.

Three months ago I started working at Loving Paws Adoption Center. I've always had a special place in my heart for animals. I had two dogs growing up: Hatler - a Bassett Hound, in my Elementary School Years, and Hoosier - a Yellow Lab, in my Middle School and High School Years. Both were purebreds, both were puppies, and both had little life experience away from the mothers. Still, while I cared about animals, until I began working at the shelter I didn't realize how much I could love and care about animals, and how cruel and heartless so many people are to thousands of cats and dogs who just want to be part of a family (pack).

I've seen nearly 60 dogs and cats come in and out of the shelter in Crocker since my start in February. Every now and then a couple of puppies or kittens will find their way to our facility. However, most of the dogs and cats that we take in are 2 years or older; dogs that have been left behind by transitioning families, dogs rescued from puppy mills and crack houses, dogs and cats that were once puppies and kittens, but who lost their appeal or were never trained by their families and just became a nuisance to their owners. While some were abused physically, almost all were abused emotionally. Every now and then we'll get a family who uses our services because they have received orders to go to Hawaii and don't want to put their animals in quarantine for 4 months, and they just want to find a good home for their pets - I wish this happened more often than it does. Currently we have ten dogs, 3 cats, 1 puppy and 2 kittens at the shelter, all of them rescues.

Yesterday, I experienced a first at the shelter. As I was coming in from cleaning the outside runs, an older gentleman in a Club Car Golf Cart, with what I assumed was his toddler granddaughter seated next to him, pulled up. I smiled at him, waved at the little girl, and asked if I could help him with anything. The following conversation ensued:

Him: "You all have any bunnies?"

Me: "No, we don't."

Him: "None?"

Me: "We're a shelter that only takes in cats and dogs, but let me ask Dawn - the manager - if any of the other shelters in the county have any."

**I open the front door and stick my head in and ask if any of the other shelters have rabbits. The answer is no, but she gives me the name of a local farm that may have some.**

Me: "Sir, none of the other shelters have bunnies, but she says you may want to check Eircels."

Him: "Hmm, alright. Yeah, I was hoping you may have some. I have four at home that I came across the other day. One's a nice big buck, probably about 7 or 8 pounds. He'd probably make good for mating."

Me: "Hmmm."

Him: "Yeah. I was looking round to see if anybody mighta wanted 'em, but then I started thinking about how the buck would be good to keep. So, for now looks like the others will be getting stocked in my freezer. I'll be eating good this week. Still, hoping I can maybe find some more."

Me: "Well sir, sorry, but not here. Have a nice day."

Him: "Mmrrmmph...you too."

**I then turned and went into the shelter."

Me: "Dawn, I thought that man had brought his grand-daughter here to look for a pet bunny-rabbit. He was just looking to shop for food at an animal shelter! Ugh."

Dawn: **shakes her head** - "These people..."

Unfortunately, "these people" are all over "these parts." They are the kind of people that leave their dogs tied to trees and never feed them, or leave them to just run as they will without any vaccinations. Loving Paws takes in as many as we can. It is a no-kill shelter, sponsored by the Pulaski County Humane Society, funded solely by donations, and run by an all-volunteer staff. All cats and dogs that come to the shelter receive necessary vaccinations and are spayed or neutered. We try to give them a bit of a home, until they can find their forever families. Some of them stay longer than others. Sabrina, for example, had been at the shelter for 6 months, living in a 4x12 indoor/outdoor run; that's no life for a dog. And yet, for some of them, it's a better life than what they had. 

Sabrina had been in a home for a couple of months prior to her stay at Loving Paws, but when the family she had previously lived with decided to get a pit bull who didn't care too much for Sabrina, they decided to get rid of her. Prior to her two month household stint she had been in the Waynesville shelter, prior to that a stray, and prior to that we don't know. It's been a long couple of years for our pup, but she's finally in a good place.

Despite the sad state in which I see some of the animals come to our shelter, I love what I'm doing, and there are many days I come home to tell Matt about the sweetest dog that is weedling its way into my heart - much the same way Sabrina did. But, more often than not, the pooch that I start falling for gets adopted within a few weeks and finds his or her perfect family.

In addition to my typical shelter duties, I have become the resident photographer for the adoption center. When we get a new dog/cat in, and once they have been with us for at least a week (enough time to get them vaccinated and groomed), we take them out for their "official photo shoot." I take a series of pictures, come home and edit them, and then send them to the Vice President of the Humane Society, who loads them onto PetFinder and the Loving Paws website. It's quickly become one of my favorite pastimes. 

So, in honor of the cats and dogs that I get to help take care of every week, I thought I'd share some of my favorites with all of you.

Pluto came to us as a stray with a collar, but no tags or microchip to identify him. After being with us for two weeks, we received a phone call from his family who saw his photo on PetFinder. Apparently the big lug had been let outside and broken his tether. The family had been looking for him and were so happy when they found his picture. This was a happy reunion.

Misty was a stray found along a local county road. She stayed with us for three weeks and then was adopted by a nice, older woman.

Sammy has become the "shelter cat." He's been at the facility since I've been there. He's a sweet guy, but nobody seems to want him because he's too old.

Trixie came to us as a two month old puppy. She quickly got adopted.

If I could have brought home another dog, it would have been Socks. Socks lived at the shelter for nearly two months. He came to the facility with his mother (Poochie) and brother (Chip), who were found tied to a tree and left to fend for themselves. He finally got adopted by a great family who had a young son that just wanted to run and play with him, which was great because the Border Collie in Socks wanted to play ALL THE TIME!

Our resident "old guy," Pedro came to us as a stray who was hurting from arthritis in his 9 year old bones. He was at the shelter for nearly three months when we received a phone call from a lady saying she was looking online at photos on PetFinder and Pedro looked an awful lot like her next door neighbors lost dog. As the family who had previously owned Pedro didn't have the internet, she told them she thought he was at Loving Paws. There was a happy reunion with the dog and his family in early April. Despite the arthritis, the old man somehow found it in his legs to jump straight into the arms of his lost parents.

Dodger is a Rottweiler mix who has been at the shelter for the past month. He is an extremely laid back guy, despite his hulking exterior and serious looking face. The vet believes Dodger is 5 years old. He has only 4 teeth partially remaining in his mouth. All of his other teeth have been worn down from excessive chewing and grinding - probably from being tied up for a long period of time and trying to gnaw through a chain.

Checkers is our resident hound-dog. He was picked up by the Crocker P.D. last week, running wild in the countryside. He had no collar and no manners when he came to the shelter, which makes us think if he's ever been anybody's, he's never been inside a home. However, he's quickly learning that there are perks to having human companions - food twice a day, a warm place to stay at night, a comfy blanket (changed daily), treats and toys, and of course lots of love and affection. Still, Checkers' primary M.O. is to take people for a walk, not have people take him for a walk. This guy is a pureblood Blue Tick Coonhound so his nose is usually always on the ground and in hot pursuit of whatever it is he smells!

Kip has only been at the shelter for a few days, and he's REALLY in need of his appointment at Pampered Paws - his hair is a hot mess! However, I couldn't resist taking a picture of the little guy yesterday because he's just so darn grungy and cute. We think he's a Shih Tzu or a Lhasa Apso....were not too sure...but whatever he is I truly believe he could pull off being a Jerry Garcia look-alike in a Grateful Dead tribute band.

These are just a few of the cute critters I get to work with twice weekly. If I tried to put all of their pictures on this blog it would undoubtedly take way too long to load and twice as long for me to write. In the coming months, however, I plan on keeping you all updated about some of my latest charges, and let you know if those still at the shelter get adopted. For those that have been adopted, I am grateful that they have found their forever homes, and for those that are still at the shelter, I hope we can help them feel loved again and ready to be part of the families which they so desperately deserve.

 Contentment...