Hot Springs

The National Park in Arkansas called "Hot Springs"
 is like no other.  “National Old Time Resort”
would be a better name.

We walked along Hot Springs Creek, where steam often rises from warm flowing water, even when the air is near freezing.  Fresh water, heated by magma deep in the earth, rises to emerge from many springs, and the springs feed this unusually warm creek.  Many people come for the hot springs, but I found a Great Blue Heron more interesting.
  

He waded with his long, skinny legs and stretched his long neck to evaluate me.  Deciding I was little threat, he turned his attention to the water and stalked a fish as I stalked him.  Then in a flash, he had the small fish in his beak and gulped it down.  

Kathy Leonard

Sharon Stalking a Heron

I enjoyed the hunt, the stalking, and found that if a tree blocked the heron’s view of me, I could get very close, then lean slowly into view and get the shot.  I told Kathy that with a few hours practice I could have him eating out of my hand.  

Town folk gather at the watering hole for hot spring water

In the resorts along the “Park” main street, a person can soak privately in hot water that cures diseases and relaxes souls.  This is known from testimonials and much advertising.  Furthermore, the small crustaceans living in mud below the hot water make it healthful to drink.  

Kathy, Carlos and his little dog, Fritz

Kathy Leonard’s house

.

On a hilltop in the Park, stands a tall tower, which we climbed and looked down on the resort—down on many years of rich and ridiculous, memories of mafia and miracle cures, down on where three friends strolled and talked of important things, considering our good fortunes and soon parting, hoping the Park might pull us together again.    

Two Sharons and a Kathy

Three Friends, Two Angels

She leaves in quiet darkness

as two friends lie sleeping in singular beds

whose wander of place, and hushed dreams

dance between flutter of pale eyelids

Like Dorothy, she longs for home

but knows how to get there without necessary red slippers

to return to her house lovingly built in a New Mexico landscape

among wild turkeys without fences between neighbors

She is a wise woman

who builds bridges out of thoughtful words

invites permission to gather truth, like smooth pebbles

along a lake shore of piney green

She leaves behind two gifts of silvered-belled angels

each angel carries in unbroken hands what is needed

one angel holds a heart

whispers about a longing to be loved

to be held warm and safe in muscular arms

among woods in a rustic cabin

The other angel holds a flower

tells a story of a gypsy search for all that is beautiful

then poems written on a page

in the dinette of a pop up camper  

Three friends form a triangle

feminine, strong

tinker of two silvered angel bells

proclaim…now, now, now is the time

Kathy Leonard

With gratitude to the two Sharons, and the gift of two angel bells

January 29, 2020

Under Way

~ Snowy peaks west of Flagstaff ~
Invitations to the far north

Standing on the corner in Winslow Arizona
such a fine sight to see
The Eagles, 1970's

I’m under way now, and apologize for not writing sooner.  It’s been a time for driving and visiting—in Santa Fe and Pecos, New Mexico.

Friend, Sharon Rizk, has moved to Pecos and built a house there, and wild turkeys come to visit.

On a snowy day I, too, came to visit and recall our times together in Pasadena.  I did a show for several of her friends on the recent “Four Icy Peaks” trip.  Then, in separate cars, we ventured eastward, retracing that Route 66 bike ride of 2017. 

Sharon Rizk at the Pecos River.  It was her idea to join me on this trek.
I imagine her saying to the next thing I reveal or lead her into:
“I told you nothing is wrong.”    

We have arrived in Ft. Smith, Arkansas.  Today, will drive to mid-Arkansas and join a mutual friend.  After a few days there, Sharon Rizk will drive home and I will begin the long northward drive to revisit Frostbit Falls, Minnesota.   

If you have followed my trips over the years, you know that Michael Angerman of Corvallis, Oregon, has prepared an interactive map of each trip showing my daily locations.  He has begun one for this trip.  Please see Michael’s Map:  Google Map for Winter 2020

I Shall Return

All Pictures are from International Falls, MN, winter of  2009-10

Counterclockwise and counter-conventional from warm to cold to warm again, as shown on the map, I will revisit a cold town of ten years ago.  Migrating, not as snow-birds, a sun-bird moves against advice, to another kind of warm.  

Not totally a lone jeep journey to the coldest place in the lower forty-eight states, I’ll visit friends along the way, in Pecos, Hot Springs, and the middle of Iowa.  I’ll revisit part of that 2017 solo bicycle trip along Route 66.  In Iowa, where my good friend who left us two years ago grew up, I hope to see the farm, the fields he tilled with a horse, and meet his people who didn’t understand why he left. 

Then, after two or three weeks at International Falls, I’ll head west through the northern states back to Port Angeles, Washington, where many of you joined me to four icy peaks last fall, three of which eluded us.  On this visit, snow will be thirty feet deep if it’s an average year.  I want to retrace at least one of those hikes. 

Finally, on the southward journey home, friends in Corvallis, Oregon, just might let me rest. 

You are welcome to join vicariously and digitally and to comment on the blog or by email.  I look forward to your company.  The blog now accepts comments using any device; I’ve been assured of it.  If you find that untrue, tell me, and we shall see heads roll from those who guaranteed it.