What We Found at the River

We spent time on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning working at our small lot on the St. Francis River. Between weddings, anniversaries, graduations, birthdays, and assorted other special events, it's been a while since we've been there, and boy could we ever tell it.

Weeds of all types stood at least knee-high. The shortest walk meant a cobweb or two right in the face. Trees needed trimming. Bugs were everywhere, especially the most feared and disgusting one of all.

Yep, ticks. I bet I found at least 10 of those critters on me, and Hubby at least that many more. I found one on Indy's face and I'm afraid there may be more lurking on him. Finding ticks on a black dog is harder than hunting a cotton ball in snow. All I can do is shampoo him and wait.

Isn't it weird how fast finding a tick gives the creepy crawlies? Every little skin tickle or prickle caused me to drop whatever was in my hands and perform an immediate check. Luckily no one else was around to witness the images of pulled up shirts or dropped pants. After all, we weren't at Mardi Gras.

Ugh. I don't care how many romance novels feature vampires. In my opinion there's nothing sexy about something chomping on you for a quick meal. I wish mosquitoes, ticks, fleas, and all those blood-suckers could be obliterated forever. Of course that would probably mean the extinction of some rare and beautiful bird species who can only survive on a meal of mosquitoes, ticks, and fleas.

Oh, the cruel ironies of life...

Purrfect Justice

We're headed to the St. Francis River this weekend and will be joined by what appears to be close to 20 friends. It'll be a great time but...

due to the number of feet and the area available, Indy will be staying with cousin Brady while we're gone.  He is not pleased.  I feel bad for him, but someone else is not as sympathetic.

"Ha! Now you know how I feel!"


Hope you get to do what you want this weekend...and please stay safe!

Dogs at the River

Brady in his crate. The sound of silence.

Two dogs traveled with us to the river. Indy is of course, an experienced camper. The only thing he doesn't like about camping are the times when he is crated. Then he sings a mournful tune for a while, just to let me know how he feels.

For the granddog, Brady, this was a new experience. Here are some things we learned about him:

1. He barks at fireworks.
2. He barks at thunder.
3. He barks when a car door slams.
4. He barks whenever anyone returns to the campsite (never mind that they were only gone for 2 seconds).
5. He barks at mowers, trimmers, and chainsaws.
6. Brady is a very, very good barker.

He's also a good eater. Beware leaving anything within Cairn Terrier reach (and that includes nose height while standing on hind legs). He nearly snatched an entire plate piled high with bacon. We rescued the bacon in the nick of time, so Brady contented himself with licking an unguarded pan full of bacon grease. Yum.

Dog crates provide the only break from constant canine vigilance. And by the way, here's a heartfelt salute to whomever invented the dog crate. It's the perfect way to settle an unruly critter, potty train a pup, and keep everyone in general de-stressed.

Hey! I wonder if the idea for a crate was born during a camping trip?

Weekend at the River

Food...the succulent centerpiece of every day.

Our weekend camping experience brought perfect weather (in the fifties at night--practically unheard of for July in Missouri), delicious campfire-prepared food (I did not overeat...ahem, okay, well, maybe just a little), and the company of a wonderful group of friends.

Our typical day at the river consists of a late breakfast/brunch accompanied by a spicy made to order Bloody Mary. Then it's a short walk downhill to the river where some folks fish and some get into the clear rushing water of the Saint. Hours later it's back up the hill (gotta get our exercise somehow, and that hill is steep!) for happy hour while dinner prep begins. Then a huge feast prefaces music around the campfire with musicians and singers aplenty. However, a night-time trip back down the hill is not unusual, either.

This weekend we were treated to a glorious fireworks display Saturday night on the river's flat boulders (compliments of one of our pyro-techy friends). Once the smoke cleared, we rested against sun-warmed granite to enjoy a sky filled with so many stars that they looked like a sequined blanket.

The critters were abundant, too. Fish (catch of the day went to our musical muse), butterflies, dragonflies, birds, squirrels, raccoons, and toads, to name only a few.

And then of course, there were the dogs. Tune in tomorrow for their adventures in Weekend at the River.

Kayak Competition

We were at the St. Francis this weekend for the yearly Whitewater Association kayak races. It was chilly, but fun. What a brave soul that dons the gear, climbs into a tiny kayak and makes his way down the rolling rapids of the Saint.

There were hundreds of spectators that brought along almost as many dogs. I saw Golden Retrievers, Border Collies, Austrailian Shepherds, Beagles, Yorkies, and of course the All American Mixed Breed. The dogs seemed to enjoy themselves as much, if not more, than the people. Being wise critters, they enjoyed the show from the vantage point of the granite boulders. You didn't catch one of them climbing into a kayak.

There wasn't a single dumb animal among them!

Spring on the Saint

Kayakers practice their moves.












Early spring at the Saint. She's high, fast, and powerful.


I'm not quite ready to let go of my daydream about spring just yet, so let me show you a few photos and tell more about the St. Francis River. Surrounded by rocky pink-toned granite boulders the river is home to a virtual plethora of wildlife. Catfish, crayfish, crappie, sunfish, water snakes, turtles, and lizards can be found in or around the water. We've also seen deer, raccoon (they love to do night raids on leftover food), turkey vultures, herons, turkey, hawks, mink, otters, and occasionally eagles. Oddly, we see very few small birds as are common in the St. Louis area.

The Saint (as it is fondly called by the kayak folks) is fascinating. It can rise quickly, and drop just as quickly. And when roaring with water it creates whirlpools and riffles that require a skilled hand for those who plan to navigate it. Helmets required, because many huge boulders lurk just under the surface.

Last spring we had a group of kayakers practicing moves by our place. It's interesting to watch them paddle themselves around the swirling water and scary when someone rolls over and doesn't immediately pop back up. If they're under too long, rescue is quickly on the way. It's a sport that's fun to watch, but definitely not something I'll ever try.

I prefer my feet on the ground to my head under water.