When Deb and I walked into Blacksheep BBQ in Yellville this afternoon, from speakers in the rafters came the husky voice of a young Kris Kristofferson. The song was “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” — a classic, one of my all-time favorites.
I sang along quietly as we waited at the counter to place our order. Hearing that song was, to me, a sign that all is well in our world.
We’d just come from The Mountain, where we took the day off. We did nothing I’d describe as “work” — today was all about exploring. It was time to play.
After parking the Ranger in the spot we created yesterday, we hiked up toward the summit. Unlike our previous attempts to locate The Mountain’s highest point, this time we nailed it — my GPS app read 1,008 feet above sea level, compared to 1,003 feet according to my USGS topo map.
Strolling north a ways, then back and forth along a line of ledges, we looked for evidence of rumored prospecting for lead. And we found it — a long, deep trough dug (or blasted) into the slope, now completely overgrown. We saw another vestige, a smaller pit, about ten yards away. An actual mining operation, of course, never came to pass.
We made our way down The Mountain and searched for a particular grassy clearing we’d seen one of the first times we explored the property. We found that, too.
Whenever we come across a feature that we want to return to, by the way, I mark the location as a “waypoint” on my GPS app. That practice has proven invaluable.
We ended our outing with that visit to Blacksheep BBQ — “The Hawg Dawg” for me, as per usual, and ribs for Deb.
It was another perfect day. Responsibilities and obligations now draw our attention, and I expect that a predicted winter storm will keep us closer to the bus ’til the middle of next week — then again, it sure would be cool to see The Mountain under a blanket of fresh snow.
Sunday, maybe. We’ll see.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.