Taum Sauk Mountain State Park #2

I arrived at Taum Sauk Mountain in the late afternoon. The temperature was 80 degrees. It felt like summer.

 

coatless in October

one after the other

the trees shedding their leaves

 

At 1,772 feet above sea level, Taum Sauk Mountain is the highest point in Missouri.  

 

running out of water

I welcome

the shade-covered bench

 

The mountain is named after Piankashaw Chief, Sauk-Ton-Qua. The name was later changed to Taum Sauk because it was easier to pronounce.

 

historical marker

a fellow hiker fills in

the missing words

 

Legend has it that the chief’s daughter, Mina Sauk, was having a forbidden love affair with an Osage warrior. The warrior was captured, tried, and condemned to death. 

The Piankashaws pushed him off a cliff. As he fell, spears were thrown at him until his blood stained the rocks. In despair, Mina Sauk threw herself off the ledge so her blood would mingle with that of her lover’s.

jagged outcroppings

the golden sunset

softens their faces

The Great Spirit was displeased with the Piankashaw tribe. Shortly after, the ground shook violently. The mountain cracked. Water flowed from the earth and washed away the blood of the lovers.

 

annoyed with me

a squirrel

swishes its tail

 

When the waterfall is just a trickle, those are the tears of Mina Sauk. When the waterfall is at full strength, the couple has been reunited in spirit.

Today, this area is known as Mina Sauk Falls; the highest waterfall in Missouri.

 

darkening skies

I leave the waterfall

for another day

 

The trail was getting harder to follow with the waning light, so I headed back to my car.

 

dry throat

the dust of my footsteps

beneath the pines

 

Johnson Shut-Ins

(Part Four: The Scour Trail.)

Before the reservoir breach, the scour trail did not exist. The path was created by 1.3 gallons of water washing down Proffit Mountain.

On sunny days, the heat can be relentless.  

 

hatless in the glade

I waste drinking water

baptizing myself

Even 20 years after the initial event, plants and trees struggle to get a foothold in the harsh environment.

mountain diaspora

the stones

take root in the valley

 

               ***

Additional Notes: The Scour Trail is 1.4 miles one way.

__________________________________________

Next in the Series: Taum Sauk Mountain State Park 

 

 

Johnson Shut-Ins 

(Part Three: Welcome to Missouri State Parks & The Shut-Ins Trail)

 

park entrance

in Missouri no one asks you

for an admission fee

 

At 2.3 miles, the Shut-ins trail is the most popular one in the park. Part of the trail is handicapped accessible. Once hikers leave the boardwalk, they can access the remainder of the trail via the steps or turn around and go back to the parking lot.

For those wanting to access the Black River, there are plenty of ankle-turning opportunities among the boulders. Signs warn that the park is not responsible for swimmers or those injuring themselves on the rocks.

The shut-ins are narrow canyons where the water flow is constricted by weather-resistant rocks. They usually contain a plethora of waterfalls, pools, flumes, rapids, and other features that can make any type of navigation challenging.

 

waterfall journey

I follow the path

of a skittish robin

 

in the reflecting pool

a frayed shoestring

before the rapids

 

pines, oaks, and hickories

my hair changing

with the seasons

Johnson Shut-ins 

(Part Two: Geology, Taum Sauk Reservoir Breach, Interpretive Center)

One of nature’s masterpieces, Johnson Shut-ins contains rhyolite formations that are over a billion years old.

 

into the fractured joints

of hoodoos

the fence lizard’s retreat

 

While the shut-ins are still there, most of the landscape was altered on Wednesday, December 14, 2005.

Around 5 am, the Taum Sauk reservoir collapsed. The dam was breached sending over a billion gallons of water tumbling down Proffit Mountain.

In the direct path of the water was the park superintendent’s house. It was a miracle that he and his family survived. Fortunately, the campground was empty.

 

what we remember

our broken sleep

and the thunder of water

 

Today, several boulders from Proffit Mountain sit outside the new interpretive center. They were pushed here by the same wall of water that swept away the superintendent and his family.

 

granite sentinels

their shadows

become my shadows

Johnson Shut-Ins State Park #1

(Part One: The Quest, Memories, Highway 21)

 

On October 20, 2022, I started a quest that became my own Holy Grail. I would visit every one of Missouri’s 57 state parks and 36 historic sites. I included two facilities that weren’t categorized, but they were on the list!

And that’s how 95 became my magic number.

chasing a dream

I hike in the shadows

of personal grief

 

I went back in time to memories of family reunions along the Black River. We would rise early while the day was still cool. It was a long drive to Arcadia Valley.

We always took the scenic but treacherous Highway 21. So many fatal accidents have occurred on this road that a 28-mile stretch of it              is still called blood alley.

 

a twist here, a turn there

each of us praying

no one gets carsick

 

oncoming cars

Dad’s knuckles turn white

passing a cement truck

Mythology and old wives’ tales have something in common: they often contain a grain of truth to make them seem plausible. 

I am reminded of a conversation I had with my father. He told me bridges were covered so horses wouldn’t be afraid because they couldn’t see the water. Somehow, I doubted his story.

cowboy movie

horses crossing the river

without a bridge to fear

January 2022

The snow bends the cedars until the lowest branches touch the ground. 

            vacant now 

         the depression 

   where the deer once slept

At first glance, everything looks abandoned.

                                     

There's no noise from the road. Not a bird in sight.

crunch of my shoes

magnified 

by the silence

that surrounds me

If time could stand still, it would stand here. Frozen. In this moment, in the snow. Alone.

 Cliff Cave: A Tale of Two Seasons

 

indian cave

in the earthen floor

the stone tools they once used

 

Today, “Indian Cave,” is also known as Cliff Cave, the largest known cavern in St. Louis County. The Osage still consider this area to be sacred ground.

 

I had my first encounter with Cliff Cave during a July summer. The heat spell had been going on for 15 days. We had no air-conditioning. Our Sunday prayers for snow went unanswered.

 

box fan

the whir of humidity

encircles us

 

We were all ready to snap. Dad decided enough was enough. He told my sister and me to get in the car.

 

windows rolled down

the sound of skin sticking

to leather seats

 

Even though the sun was setting, temps were still in the 90s. We dreaded every stoplight. Finally, we reached Cliff Cave Road.

 

a sense of relief

the arch of trees

shading our journey

 

It was the perfect prelude to the cave. Dad found a turnout. We drank luke-warm water from a thermos and took our flashlights. The trail was steep and rocky in places.

 

searching for stability

I keep sliding backwards

in my tennis shoes

 

There’s a sudden change in the air when we reach the mouth of the cave. It’s like being near a river when it’s dark. We stayed near the entrance. Dad said it would be too easy to get lost if we went any further.

 

every now and then

a cold rain

from the cave’s ceiling

 

An hour past sunset, we left the cave. The warmth of the summer night felt good. Maybe we would sleep tonight. Maybe it would rain.

 

Today, Cliff Cave is a county park. The cave itself is closed to the public. Even so, it’s good to walk on the same trails I used to hike with my family.

 

autumn

the oaks and hickories

welcome me back

Wildflower Walk

The Eastern Redbud. From a distance, most of them look purple. 

spring patterns

the forsythia and redbud

blooming together

This spring was different. There were several cold snaps including an April snowstorm. Magnolias, forsythias, serviceberries, and even dogwoods flowered before the redbuds.

fluctuating seasons

it's hard to know what

to plant when

At Shaw Nature Reserve, there are several White Eastern Redbuds. I went there five times before I saw them in bloom.

wildflower garden

everywhere I walk

I'm at peace with myself

 

The White Eastern Redbud 

There are so many messages on social media that most of them never catch my attention. The post I saw on LinkedIn was an exception. 

It was an article about the New Zealand Parliament voting unanimously to provide three days of paid leave for women and their partners after a miscarriage or stillbirth. 

My first question is, “What took so long for any country to recognize this?"

My next thought was three days is not long enough. I also think grief counseling should be included. 

Unless you've been through a miscarriage, you don't know how traumatic this is.

 

The Code of Silence

 

When I had my miscarriage, there were no social media outlets. I’m not sure any of the sites would have helped me.

 

on a cold, starless night

friends and random strangers

giving me tips on how

to get over it

 

My husband and I picked out names. We made preparations.

 

boy or girl

the train light

with its new lampshade

 

I could feel the baby. It was like the flutter of butterflies that we sometimes get when we are excited about something. Or afraid of it. 

 

waning summer

the spots of blood

that I can’t explain

 

My doctor ordered bed rest. No going up or down steps. Since that wasn’t possible at home, I stayed with my parents. 

I passed the time reading books or listening to baseball games. Last year, the Cardinals had won the World Series.

 

Steve Carlton pitches

his 300^th win

every year’s another chance

 

Bed rest didn't help. The bleeding increased. By 2 am, I was hemorrhaging. I didn’t want to wake my parents. 

 

september loss

it’s fear that drives

my silence

 

I fell on the bathroom floor. My mom heard me or maybe I screamed. There are parts that I don’t remember.

 

blank spaces of time

the harsh white

of hospital lights

 

My doctor came in. He said the baby couldn’t be saved. He told me to think of it as a blob that never fully formed. It was nature’s way of taking care of it. 

 

grieving parents

there are some things no one

should ever say

 

I never received counseling. Shortly after my miscarriage, I went back to work. 

A co-worker asked me, “How far along are you? You don’t even look pregnant.”

I told him I lost my baby. He didn’t know what to say except that he was sorry. A hush followed me wherever I went. 

It made me feel more isolated than I have ever felt in my life.

 

unmarked grave

the code of silence

that surrounds each death

 

There were plenty of classes for expectant mothers on how to breathe during labor, all the advantages of breastfeeding, and what to do after the child arrives. 

If there were training manuals on how to deal with miscarriages, no one ever offered me one. Instead, my husband and I embarked on the journey toward healing alone. 

During my second pregnancy, I worried the entire time that I would lose this baby, too. I couldn’t go through it again.

 

changing seasons

no two pregnancies

are alike

 

When I was first able to hold my son after he was born, it was a bittersweet moment. I would never stop loving the son that I held now. I would never stop loving the child that I lost.

We Are The Abusers

Abuse takes many forms. It's a growing pandemic. We are not only the victims of abuse, we are also the abusers. 

April 22nd is Earth Day and every single one of us has abused this planet we call home. 

plastic air every day we wrap ourselves in denial

February 2021

Eight inches of snow. Single-digit temperatures. Short breaths of conversation.

Next to the house there was a thin strip of ground where the snow had melted.

a collage of time in the ragged leaves

Near the wall sat two robins. We thought about taking a photo but any sudden movement on our part might cause them to fly away. 

conserving energy 

the birds save their songs

for another day

Soldiers Memorial Military Museum

The day started out somber. I was running late.

morning fog
even the hot coffee
fails to warm me

Fortunately, the traffic was light. I checked in with my tour group and had about 10 minutes to spare. We were headed to the Soldiers Memorial Military Museum.

rocky bus ride
none of us are in danger
of falling asleep

Upon our arrival, we noticed the building had a musty odor that seemed to permeate the mood of everyone present.

past rains
echo through the corridors
of heartache

Every plaque, every medal, every story had a theme. We passed name after name of loved ones who had perished.

broken clouds
every war ends with the hope
there will never be another

Finally!

Beautiful days are rare in June. Especially in St. Louis. Most are hot and humid. So when we finally got a break in the heat, my friend and I headed downtown. While there, we ran into one of the city's founders.

a hockey miracle
pierre laclede still rooting
for the st. louis blues

And that's about how long it took our team to win the Stanley Cup.

Where Did February Go?

february chill

the stale marshmallows

end up in the fire

While I am not a fan of burning books, I never thought I would be the guilty party. It started out innocently enough as most of my projects do before they go hopelessly awry.

winter origami

the angel becomes a boat

with wings

I borrowed a library book and got it soaked in the rain. No problem, I thought. I'll just zap it for 15 seconds. It will be good as new.

bad idea

the 4th of July

starts in the microwave

Apparently, there is metal in each library book that will set off a metal detector if it hasn't been desensitized. This is done by a magnet when the book is properly checked out. The mechanism is similar in principle to the anti-theft devices used in stores.

smoke everywhere

an incessant beeping

pours into the room

The metal in the microwave caused sparks. The sparks ignited the book. The plastic cover melted. 

The burnt square on the viewer's right shows the outline of where the metal device is located. 

browned casserole

inside the pages

of a winter's tale

It created a lovely odor that lingered for days every time I opened the microwave. The book was ruined but at least it wasn't wet anymore.

On that note, I will say goodbye to February!

The Gatekeepers

Despite today's political climate, there are still walls that have nothing to do with Trump, the US border, or the government shutdown. 

serpentine wall
the echo of "hello"
from other hikers

However, the serpentine wall at Shaw Nature Reserve is related to a dead US president. Apparently, Thomas Jefferson inspired the structure. 

lewis and clark expedition
native americans teach
foreigners how to survive


Built in 1946, it resembles the serpentine wall in Forest Park that separates the St. Louis Zoo from the park grounds.

peace lilies
the end of world war II
but not the end of war

The wall was not built to keep people out but to protect a boxwood garden from mother nature.

wintry couple
the wind and the wall
have a long engagement

It's a good thing the wall is hundreds of miles away from the White House. No structure should have to withstand such gale-force winds.

shaw nature reserve
the only gatekeepers 
are the bald cypress

The Haircut

The salon chair is adjusted with a foot pump. My stylist is about to layer my hair. A beautician's license is in the lower corner of the mirror. It's not the same person standing before me.

incognito stylist

you can never be sure

who's holding the scissors

Perhaps she is new and using someone else's station. Maybe she just graduated from a beauty school. She's got to learn somehow.

trial and error session

my hair 

a thousand lengths away

from the picture 

in vogue magazine

For some reason, I feel compelled to tell my stylist about the one and only time I tried to cut my own hair.

kid scissors
the jagged ends of summer
have lost their curl

Proud of the results, I went to show mom my handiwork. 

"What have you done to your hair. 
You've ruined it!"

That was not the response I was hoping for.

She got out her adult scissors and started snipping away to get the hair evened out. By this time, I had just enough hair to cover my ears. Mom was crying. The photographer was coming tomorrow to take pictures.

Morning came. For once, I didn't have to sleep on rollers because there wasn't enough hair to roll. Mom placed a bow in my hair so the photographer would know I was a girl. I didn't really look like a boy or a girl. More like a monkey. One who got into trouble all the time.

photographer
in a black suit
he tells us
to act natural
and say "Limburger."

I was accompanied by my two sisters. The surreal quality of the day reminded me of an episode from The Three Stooges. We had matching bows in our hair all on the same side. While sitting down, we kept elbowing each other to create more space.

a cardinal's song
the red notes soar
beyond our disagreement

*

*Holiday picture with Grandma Blanche

Plodding Westward

A road trip through Iowa and Nebraska became a test of endurance. The flatlands were unrelenting. As my eyes were about to close, the smooth pavement of Route 2 changed into a chicken hoppin' highway. It sounded like I had a flat tire. Then, the red light came on.

gas gauge warning

26 miles till

the next exit--

my speed reduced

to a wing and a prayer

Meanwhile, the pavement lullaby ramped up to a howling wind.

prairie crossing

I follow the ghosts

of wagon trains

An interstate later, I was only a mile away from my destination. Something was moving in the fields that hadn't been there before. At first glance, they looked like turkeys pecking their way through the amber stubble of waste grains. Except there were too many of them.

migrating clouds

turning the fields gray

the sandhill cranes

Welcome to Kearney, Nebraska, the Sandhill Crane capital of the world. I had arrived.