Home from the Prairie

Here we are again at Prophetstown State Park at the confluence of the Wabash and Tippecanoe Rivers.

We were greeted each morning by a world blanketed in dense fog which burned away by noon.  The view across this prairie afforded a look at the ridge opposite under clear skies.  The picture is good: it's the fog, not bad photography.

The grasses are seven feet tall.  Walking through them could get one quite disoriented.  Best follow a deer trail, or stay out altogether.

The idea of the park was to restore a natural prairie as it would have existed two hundred years ago.  All non-native plant species were removed and replaced with the original type flora.

Wiener and BBBH enjoyed the sunny afternoons.  So did I.

Lulu and Grizz on their leashes stopped by with Rececca for a visit, and a pet of course.

 

Louie led devotions at sunset

When the sun went down, the heavier outerwear was donned.  Visiting with friends and thanking our Creator is what it is all about.

Just a campin' in the rain. . .

Off the ranch a few days this week.  Our campers' fellowship was scheduled to meet at Summit Lake. We belong to a hardy group, and notwithstanding rain forecast for virtually every day there was no doubt that many, perhaps even most of the group would show up.  It looked for a bit that we were going to be the washouts, for Sunday passed and we did not feel up to getting ready to go.  Monday came and went, and we still had not headed out

Tuesday, though, we kicked ourselves a bit just to get started.  We went.  The pictures are illustrative of the experience.

 What it is is rain.

 But in this case, it is smoke.  Elvin made his world-famous peach cobbler baked in a Dutch oven over an open fire.  Which was upwind of the tent.  It was worth it. Table games were played under the tent, and there were sunny periods between downpours.

 One of the preachers (there are two) in the group.  Richard is every bit as pleasant as he looks.

The firepit fishing hole on our space.  Bring your rod and lure, try your luck.

Wiener's opinion of the whole thing.

On the way home Thursday morning, we arrived in Sulphur Springs at 10:50 which was perfect timing for a stop at the Iron Kettle.  BBBH had a  beautiful everything-in-it-omelet with a lovely biscuit and hot tea.  I had the hand breaded grouper with baked potato and fruit, water with lemon.

Note to self:  Order that again.  One of the best pieces of deep fried fish I ever had.  The breading was better than dessert.  Which I skipped.

Journaling: The End

Perhaps you are thinking this has gone on long enough.  Perhaps we can wind this up.

We arose Sunday morning and drove to Springfield, Missouri, stopping there with the intention of
attending church and as we were driving down the main drag into town, behold a Salvation Army church sprang into view.  We pulled into the back of their parking lot, ascertained that it would be nearly an hour before morning worship service, changed duds (well, JoAnn did) and strolled around a bit.  We then went to the sanctuary where we had a nice visit with a superannuated SA officer who had been a missionary to China, Zimbabwe, Jamaica.  She must have been at least eighty, but looked like she could go some more miles yet.  Majors David and Barbara Zahn conducted a very good service and I felt as though I had been to church.

After Sunday brunch in Springfield, we drove on to Cuba where we asked directions to a camp facility.  Two or three different people directed us to the same place, about seven miles down the road.  "Sure," the attendant said, "drive on up to the office and I'll be right there."  A few minutes later he returned and pulled out a registration sheet and asked if we were Something-or-Other Club Members.  Well, having never heard of it, No.  "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't let you stay."  "Well, I said as I craned my neck to peer way upward into his steely eyes set into a head as big as a basketball, "you're big enough to enforce that."  He said he was sorry, it wasn't his choice, he just worked there.  Drove on to Stanton where we stayed in a KOA.  The weather was fantastic and the temperature at ten p.m. was still 69 degrees.*

Since JoAnn insisted we shun St. Louis, and since we would have arrived there during the morning rush hour, we turned north on Missouri 47.  Along the way, a brief detour placed us at a Bryan cemetery where there was a monument to Daniel Boone and his wife whose bones had been moved to Kentucky long ago.  The Bryans were Boone's inlaws.  A fantastically beautiful, if somewhat slow, drive along Missouri 59  brought us ultimately to US 61 on which we headed north.  We crossed the Mississippi at Louisiana, Missouri on US 54 and stopped for lunch at a cafe in Atlas-- can't miss it: the only one there.  54 ends at I-72 which took us to I-74 which we followed to Indiana 32 then jogged north on I-65 to Indiana 47 and lo, we were back home again in Tipton in a matter of minutes! It was not yet six p.m.

*It was in this same campground on a very rainy night almost exactly five years later that String Too Short to Tie was born.

Journaling: Carlsbad to Joplin**

We took US 285 from Carlsbad which took us at eventide to Stockton, Texas.  But on the way we stopped briefly in the quaint town of Pecos where Judge Roy Bean once held court.  The putative courthouse in which he dispensed justice stands beside the highway.  The town itself is really quite

 attractive-- for a West Texas town.  The buildings are old, mostly early twentieth century, but the people seem to take some pride in their surroundings.  So far as commerce, though, the place is in a state of torpor.

in Ft.  Stockton, we stayed at Comancheland RV Park.  $10/night anytime, full hookup.  The monthly rate is $210.00.  The facility is nor bad though it is right next to the highway.  Traffic didn't bother us.  The following morning, if we had seen you, we would have wished you a Happy Halloween!  We traveled via US 67 toward the northeast.  Well, you see, without going into any of the detail or discussion regarding this decision, we opted to forget New Orleans and head for home after all.

At a town called Big Lake, we stopped for about 45 minutes.  A Dollar General, an antique store, and not much more.  A little later we stopped at a Historical Marker on the roadside at what was called Tennyson, though nothing more than a single residence appeared to the naked eye.  Here Jo fixed lunch and we enjoyed the balmy breezes as we ate.  In the evening, we stopped at a campground in Seymour, Texas.  You didn't think one could drive through Texas in a day, did you?  Campsite $15 and a nice visit with the owners was at no extra cost.  We had considered hanging around for the weekend since it was now Friday evening, but when we asked the people what was the most interesting thing to do in Seymour over the weekend, Pa answered, "Leave."  These people raised

dogs and had kennels behind the camp area where were caged upwards of thirty dogs.  Strangely, they got yappy only when someone visited them.  Jo Ann wanted the runt in one cage of little poodles and both Cookie and I were averse to the idea.

On the morning of November First, we drove out of Texas and caught the Oklahoma Turnpike system at Lawton.  Since this was the most direct route homeward, we anted up the about-five-cents per mile and rode on through Oklahoma.  A few miles east of Joplin, Missouri and about seven miles west of Sarcoxie, we stopped at a really nice campground.  $13

Journaling: El Paso to Carlsbad**

When last you heard we were nearing El Paso on I-10.  Even though we arrived in the metropolis during the afternoon rush hour, driving through the city and onto US 62 - 180 heading east was not a difficult feat.  We passed the last campground in El Paso as the sun was setting but felt confident that better things lay ahead.  Indeed.  About thirty miles out as dusk was settling, we were stopped by the Border Patrol.  The pleasant young officer advised us not to stay in the campground at the next intersection as "that is the place at which anyone trying to evade the checkpoint will emerge."  So we drove on past that possibility and soon found ourselves ascending the Guadalupe Mountains in the dark.  As it turns out, even though we missed the scenery, perhaps "in the dark" was a good way to get through that area.

We arrived in White's City, NM, which is at the foot of the drive up to Carlsbad Caverns and named for Jim White, the kid who did the first explorations of the caverns over a hundred years ago.  We walked the dog and enjoyed a pleasant evening and a good night's rest in preparation for the morrow's adventure.

A bite of breakfast, a bit of a walk, then the drive up the mountain to the main attraction.  We let the attendants talk us into renting ($3 apiece) recorded tour guide keyed to numbered areas throughout the great room.  Save your change.  It is a) way too much information to absorb while trying to appreciate the wonders of this Creation, and b) a running conservation diatribe and a constant reminder to keep your fingers off the marvels.  Learn about it before you get there, or even  afterward, but enjoy the place.

Craning the neck while trying to experience the place as completely as possible proved to be a daunting task, along with the over-long walk.  At one point after much walking, we encountered a
Park Service Ranger and asked, "How much farther?"  "You can put your landing gear down now," she replied.  Don't trust them.

Finally we exited into the light of day, drove back down the mountain and turned northward toward Carlsbad.  We decided to go for the gourmet luncheon and stopped at Wendy's.  I believe it would be accurate to say it was here that I ate my first jr. bacon cheeseburger that was barely fit for human consumption.  Did put the old appetite to rest, though.   It was while we agonized over this tortured meal that we also agonized over the decision: to go north and east and hence homeward, or to the south and east and visit San Antonio and New Orleans.  We chose Southeast.  TBC

Photo is from a postcard.  Which I bought.

Journaling: Phoenix to El Paso**

October 28 we departed the Phoenix area and drove south through Tucson.  Although we got off the interstate downtown, we did not linger long but proceeded onward via I-10 to Willcox.  Great scenery, or eye candy, along this drive.  Stopped in a rest area near the top of a pass where the rock formations resembled piles of giant potatoes and where there were posted  warning signs, " Poisonous snakes and insects inhabit the area!" *

By this time, Cookie had gotten so used to the goathead problem that he would merely stop, lift the offended paw and stare piteously at one of us until we picked him up and pulled out the thorn.  No longer did he jerk or nip at the caregiver!  Quick learner.

We arrived in Willcox in time to locate a good campsite and get hooked up well before dark.  The monthly rate here is $210 and there is an indoor pool.  Willcox is about 75 miles from Tucson and a bit less to Sierra Vista if one heads southwest.  Wednesday morning JoAnn decided to take a ride on her scooter.  I thought she'd be gone about twenty minutes, but when the time extended past an hour, I got quite concerned.  However, I had heard no sirens nor seen any emergency vehicles rushing anywhere.  In another half hour, the camp host delivered a message to me that JoAnn had run out of gas and was at such and such an address.  Then he misdirected me to the location.  So all in all we were in Willcox until eleven o'clock that day.

Driving across the desert we saw several signs advertising "Kranberry's" in Lordsburg.  So we pulled in there and had lunch.  Food was good, but half their serving staff must have been out along the highway posting more signs.  Now did I say the service was slow?

We drove on across New Mexico, yucca flats on all sides, mile after interminable mile.  And the air was filled with tons of dust such that we could breathe it and smell it inside the air-conditioned vehicle.  We flew right on through Las Cruces and said "No way" to their signs touting it as a retirement community.  Nevertheless, a hundred thousand souls have said "yes" to living there.

As we neared El Paso the aroma of miles of feeder lots nearly overwhelmed us.  I know.  To some, it is the smell of money, but if so, it gives a certain cachet (pun intended) to the expression "filthy lucre."  Somehow one is quite convinced that the housing alongside and in front of the cattle is occupied by "the help" and that Big Hat lives miles away and probably upwind.  Or maybe in Naples, Florida or Aspen.  (I have been told that in most cases this is probably not a correct observation and that Big Hat is having a really bad time of it right now.  Probably had to sell the place in Naples.)

There is yet more, much more, to this day, but that must be folded into the next day's account.

*I think it curious that the sign is illustrated not with an insect, but with an arachnid.  And I am betting the makers of the sign were thinking "scorpion" when they made it.  But go ahead.  Officially reinforce the mistaken notion that a scorpion is an insect.

Journaling: Grand Canyon to Phoenix**

Friday we drove south to Williams where we rejoined I-40 to Flagstaff.  But on the way we stopped at a roadside petting zoo and walked through a pen containing a mob of deer.  And we were mobbed! They licked us, snuffled us, and chewed on our clothing.  Really quite funny.  At Flagstaff we headed south through Oak Creek Canyon, shunning the interstate I-17 which has been completed to Phoenix since my last visit to the area.  Oak Creek Canyon is not to be missed even if one is driving an RV.  Over the summit and on the downward leg through the canyon we stopped at an upscale resort and had lunch in a very nice restaurant.  We later stopped in Cottonwood for a brief while, thence back to the interstate to Black Canyon City where we camped.

 Black Canyon City is surrounded by Sonoran hills on which the saguaros are standing like so many robbers apprehended in the act, their hands held high.  The campground  is a wonder in itself complete with public meeting room, lounge, swimming pool, and hot tub.  Wonderful flora surrounds the entire area.  For the Palisaders and other RVers among you this is a site for consideration.  The owner is an affable gentleman.  He offered us a nice discounted rate if we would return in January and February, putting his offer in writing.  There are other parks in the village, but they don't measure up to this one in amenities or attractiveness.  The location is about thirty miles from Phoenix, more or less.  We didn't spend nearly enough time here, and January and February seem like a good time to be in Not Indiana.

Ten o'clock Saturday afternoon we left BCC and drove into Glendale where we parked in the drive at the lovely home of my old college friend Wes and his lovely wife Carol.  Wes and I both arrived on campus at Seattle Pacific, he from Arizona and I from Colorado, about the same time in nineteen-something-or-other back when dirt was young and so were we.  We immediately had something in common as I'm quite sure we were the only two who showed up in ten-gallon hats.  (There were a couple of Texans there, though, so maybe my memory is not completely accurate.)  Anyway we lived in the same dorm during our sophomore year, we both majored in philosophy and we rented a basement cubby-hole style apartment together one quarter.  We even split an off-campus evening job for a while.  We have stayed in touch over the years, but our visits together have been rare since I moved to Indiana.

The next few days were spent reminiscing and enjoying the hosts' hospitality.  Jo and I did a tour through Sun City and Sun City West and also went through a few model homes in a new Del Webb community called Corte Bella.  We didn't buy.  Perhaps we should have.

Journaling: Northern Arizona**

We stopped in Tuba City, Arizona and filled up with gas.  Then we had a disturbing session with the ATM which would not read my bank card.  So I thought I'd use the credit card which is essentially against my principles, but what can you do?  OK, the machine read the card but I have forgotten my PIN.  So no money.  (When we arrived home much later there was a friendly letter from the card company reminding me of my secret number. Like I need it now.)

So on down the road sans cash.  At the crossing of the little Colorado, we turned westward to drive along the south rim of the Grand Canyon.  At the first scenic overlook, you guessed it, plywood booths totally obstructing the view such that had not one of the vendors failed to show for work that day we'd have seen nothing but plywood and product.  Through the empty booth, we could catch a glimpse of the scenic wonder beyond.  Our irritation was sufficiently intense that even JoAnn did not buy stuff.

Jo surveys the Canyon.

vanilla awed and amazed

The drive along the canyon was spectacular and many views made it worth the while, even though we knew we would return to the rim on the morrow.  We drove out of the Park to Tusayan and purchased a camping spot.  The following day, October 23, we drove to the Park, abandoned the RV and the dog in a parking lot, and boarded a bus for a scenic tour to various points along the canyon.  We disembarked at one point and enjoyed the area for an hour, boarded another bus and rode back to Moran Point where we got off and walked along the rim of the canyon about a mile and a half back to the Visitor Center where we boarded another bus to return to the parking lot.

You have all seen the pictures and most of you have read the feeble efforts others have made to describe the Canyon.  We won't even try.  It is indeed overwhelming.  We did observe that there were extensive forest fires on the North Rim which provided a rich haze of  smoke throughout the canyon which with the brilliant play of sunlight lent a phantasmagorical quality to the scenes.

Yet there was not sufficient smoke to obscure the view.  We were later told that the fires had been burning for two months and that there was no effort being made to squelch them.  Reforestation and renewal of the flora in the area, you see, as many seeds will not germinate unless they have been through the fire.

Back to Tusayan in the evening and a return to our campground.

Journaling: Aztec Visit**

During our first evening with Joan and Wes, we drove into Farmington, half-dozen miles away and had dinner at a restaurant called "Zebediah's"  This is a good place to put on the feedbag if you are ever in the Four Corners area.  Much of the time in Aztec was spent in visiting and walking, rehearsing old times, and reciting our plans for the times yet to come.

We went again into Farmington and did antique mall, quite a good one as it turns out.  Jo bought stuff.  We had tacos for supper.  Of course we did, we were in New Mexico, after all.  The next day being Sunday we went to church with Wes and Joan at the Aztec Church of the Nazarene, their home church.  We had dinner at our hosts' home and lazed away the afternoon.

Monday morning, we visited Aztec Ruins National Monument which is only three or four miles from our base.  Were there really Aztecs in Northern New Mexico? you are supposed to ask.  No, of course not.  The Indians who occupied the area were the Anasazi, or "The People" as they designated themselves.  Very interesting site.  Don't miss it when you are in the area.

Lunch was at an authentic Mexican restaurant.  Food was great and available in whatever degree of "hot" one might desire.  Following lunch, we shopped around downtown Aztec.  Specialty and curio shoppes in some number, but Aztec as a center of commerce has seen its day if it ever had one.  Not so different in that regard from hundreds of other towns across the land since the advent of the suburban mall, the K-Mart, and the Walmart.  A bicycle ride cost us two new tubes.  I rode through a patch of goathead.  When I replaced the tubes I removed eight thorns from one tire, twelve from the other.

On Wednesday, October 22 we said our farewells to Joan and Wes who never fail to remind us that if we never meet again on this orb we have an appointment to gather together at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.  We drove through Farmington and Shiprock turning once again inadvertently to the south. We discovered the error and returned to Shiprock and continued on in our intended direction.  We did get some good shots of the Shiprock while on the detour.

We drove on a while, then took an intentional detour to the north in order to visit the Four Corners Monument.  As in every scenic overlook or point of interest which lies within the Indian Nation, the entire  area around the marker is surrounded by vendors' booths, which though constructed  of bare 2 x 4s and plywood and quite tacky in appearance, were occupied by skilled artisans, many plying their trade and all offering their wares for sale.  Beadwork, jewelry, pottery, blankets, and paintings were among the available items.  JoAnn bought stuff.  We ate fry bread and burgers, moved on down the road. -TBC


Standing in Four States.

Journaling: Across New Mexico **

When last you heard of us we three, JoAnn, David, and terrier Cookie, were tooling westward along I-40 heading out of the Texas Panhandle early on the morning of October 16, our ninth day out of Tipton at the rate of 65 mph and 8.5 mpg.  And gas is not cheaper west of the wherever.  We stopped for breakfast in Tucumcari, New Mexico.  Yes, Virginia, there is a Tucumcari.  The morning's drive then took us to Cline's Corner in time for lunch.  This is truly nowhere and its usefulness relies solely on that fact coupled with the fact that it is the junction at which one must decide which of the cardinal compass points one wishes to follow.  People who work at the service station/restaurant cum curio store on-a-vast-scale actually live here.  Well, they have to.  There is no other human habitation within hours of this desolate place.  We were here for two hours, had lunch, and, of course, Jo bought stuff.,

We turned north from Cline's and drove through Santa Fe and on to Abiquiu Reservoir Park.What a gorgeous place!  I know.  That is a truly inadequate adjective but used here because words indeed fail.  The campsites are arranged on a hillside ascending above the reservoir, a large lake surrounded by arid hills and mountains, buttes, cliffs.  There were three other camp vehicles on site.  The first location we chose had no power.  In talking to a neighboring camper, we found that the power had been shut off the day before, October 15.  She, however, being experienced in such things had had the foresight to call the ranger station and asked for a couple of extra days for her site.  Good fortune!  If she had power, so likely would adjoining sites.  One of them did and we had a wonderful camping experience.  We walked along the cliffs and watched the sun set behind the mountains.  This whole area is to be highly recommended, not only to campers but to you all should you ever have the good fortune to be anywhere near.

 Abiquiu Reservoir

We broke camp on the morning of October 17 and drove westward on NM 96. And, of course, I would never admit my intention to return to the northbound highway and continue on in that direction, but made a right turn our of the campgrounds instead of a left and after seven or eight miles discovered what had transpired stubbornly pressed on rather than retrace any of those miles.  Serendipity is defined by just such twists, for this stretch of road was one of the truly scenic and interesting on the trip to this point.  A few hills and curves, but by this time my confidence as a truck driver was, well, perhaps better than it needed to be.  After two or three hours, this road connected with US 550 headed northwest into Aztec our next planned stopover.  550 is basically a superhighway without the limited access, so we were soon at the home of my childhood chum, Wesley and his gracious wife Joan.

Aztec

Camping Season Inaugurated

We have been away from the home port since last Sunday afternoon while the old blog has been running on autopilot.  We spent three days and nights at Mounds State Park with our Christian Campers Fellowship.

Our start on Sunday afternoon had us wishing immodestly for the privilege of removing most of the clothing, which we never did or even mentioned.  In two words: hot, muggy.  Monday we found to be bearable, meaning that with a sweatshirt by day and a heater at night we were uncomplaining.

Then Tuesday came and I was not sufficiently disciplined enough to keep from remarking on the state of affairs, for I wore over my tee two sweatshirts.  And a denim jacket.  Tuesday night was in the forties, and sitting around inside a camper was much less entertaining than sitting around in my well-insulated properly heated home.  We did, though, go with two other couples into Anderson for lunch, a pleasant couple of hours in the car and in the restaurant.  But back at the campground we decided as the raindrops started to fall that since we had already paid for Wednesday night it made no difference whether we spent it in the campground or at home, it would cost us the same either way. So we packed up and drove home.

Ah, there is no place like home.  Like the comforts of home.  Like the heat, the light, the space, the internet access.

But we will go camping again in a few weeks.  (Some people never learn.)

Some fellowship, some trail walking, beautiful outdoors.

Wednesday, sitting in the RV looking through

the windshield.  Nothing going on. 

From the clipboard.

Journaling: Frightened Away **

The next day, October 15, was in Jo's words a "boring drive."  With yet two or three hours of daylight, we arrived at McClellan National Grasslands campgrounds about sixty miles east of Amarillo.  The place was deserted but with directions to deposit cash in the strongbox slot and pick a site.  We chose to drive through the area and look it over.  Beautiful lake, lovely woods.  We picked a spot and pitched camp.  Water, electricity okay and the shower house provided an abundance of nice hot water.  We availed ourselves of this.  I built a campfire and Jo fixed supper.  A flock of five wild turkeys wandered past about fifty yards from us, snuffling and picking up whatever it is turkeys are interested in.  How would I know?

As dusk fell eight deer wandered in from the opposite direction, grazing along.  They got even closer than had the turkeys.  A beautiful sight.  As it turned out they stayed nearly as long as we did.

After supper and clean up we read and relaxed for some time.  Oh, did I mention that there was still absolutely no one else in the park, and this is four miles off the highway?  Finally I went to bed about 10:30.  At 11:30:  "Honey, get up now!  I think we need to get out of here."  As I dressed hastily, Jo Ann said that a car had cruised by slowly and when it swung around and drove by the second time she got concerned.  Everything was disconnected, stowed, and we were rolling in less than five minutes.  Oh, the guilt!  We didn't stop and walk the thirty yards up to the deposit box.  Oh, well.  We spent the $11 somewhere else.

I drove while JoAnn slept.  When she awakened and drowsily asked how far is it to Amarillo I responded that we had passed Amarillo an hour ago.  But Texas has roadside pullouts where campers and semi drivers pull over and sleep.  About 2:00 a.m. we pulled into one of them and had the comfort of being surrounded by a couple dozen diesels chugga-chugga while we slept the time away.
We actually slept well and didn't travel again until true daylight.  The clock read 7:15 and it was not until some time later that I realized we had crossed a time zone and it was only 6:15 when we got on the road. --TBC

Roadside rest park

Journaling: Memphis to Texas PH **

Monday morning we started moving westward along I-40 which we followed to Little Rock.  There we veered southward and went into Hot Springs which we had visited two years ago.  This time, though, we went there to visit friends Dawn and Josh.  The four of us had dinner together, then Dawn took us on a driving tour of the area.

The next day we ventured into western Arkansas, stopping at such places as Pencil Bluff for shopping in a mineral store, eventually turning north at Y City.  Now there is originality.  It's where the road, you guessed it, Ys.  From there quickly onward to Ft. Smith, and thence into Oklahoma.  We are beginning to get the hang of living in a space about 8 x 14 feet, not counting the cab area.   Or are we?

We continued onward via I-40 which at this point follows the famous Route 66.  We stopped in Clinton to visit Route 66 Museum.  We arrived at Shawnee early in the evening and camped at Catfish Roundup, a very nice facility with restaurant on the grounds.  The price was right and the catfish was great.  Deep fried, of course.  What diet?

 Route 66 Museum, Clinton, Oklahoma. 
I owned a van like this one.  I wrote about it here.

The owners of the grounds had a large area populated by several deer, including Lucy, a very small doe, and some of her offspring.  She always throws twins and one set of buck twins was particularly magnificent.  Nice racks.  Lucy was quite the pet and JoAnn enjoyed handing her clumps of grass.  Cookie was jealous and showed himself somewhat.

Lucy, Cookie, and JoAnn

Journaling: Lexington to Memphis **

On the tenth (October) we bade farewell to our hosts and proceeded in a northwesterly direction to New Albany, Indiana for a visit with Mark and Patty.   Since we knew they would not yet be home when we arrived in town, (would I ever admit I took a wrong turn and wound up on a road to the top from which there was no turning around?) we drove up and over and down Floyds Knobs. a series of beautiful wooded hills overlooking the Ohio River and the cities of New Albany, Clarksville and Louisville.  The summit area is agricultural with truck farms, orchards, and vineyards.

During our visit Craig and Kim with their three girls, Elizabeth, Jennifer, and Anna arrived for the Harvest Homecoming festivities, an event which, I understand, Kim will not miss.  It was good to see them again, albeit briefly.

Upon leaving New Albany, we chose to drive to Memphis via the Kentucky Parkway system to the southwest.  We had never used this route before.  "Bucolic" is a word that springs to mind, but very scenic through the hill, the trees in fall foliage.  We stayed at a state park in the corner of Kentucky and found it to be a very pleasant camping experience.  We arrived in Collierville, Tennessee and found Doug, Joanie and Suzanne awaiting us.  We had a very pleasant visit.

Suzanne and Cookie get acquainted.

2√2b²