CLOUDLAND JOURNAL, DECEMBER 1998

12/2-5/98 The next couple of days were somewhat of a blur to me, but since I did make it out to the cabin a few times, I wanted to post a report. All of the other stuff is kind of tied in with it.

I got up early on Tuesday, the 2nd, and drove down to Austin, Texas. What a mess those big cites are! Dallas, Austin, and even the roads connecting them. Traffic, traffic, traffic. I gave a program to the Sierra Club, then turned around and drove back to Arkansas. I must say that the traffic was a lot better at 2am than during rush hour. But I still don't see how anyone could live in a city. I made it all the way back without having to stop (except for gas), thanks to two Starbucks Mochas (they didn't have them in Texas - had to wait until I crossed back into Oklahoma before I found any).

After a meeting in Fayetteville, I drove out to the cabin to deliver some books. I was a zombie by then, no doubt, but the thought of getting to spend some time at Cloudland kept me going. It was warm and sunny, and after I unloaded all of the books, I couldn't help myself, and headed out into the woods for a short hike. The traffic and congestion and noise of the cities had really gotten to me, and I needed a break, if only for a few minutes.

The leaves were so thick on the forest floor, and crunchy, and they smelled great. I didn't walk far, and sat down in the leaves and leaned up against a moss-covered rock. Sitting still at last. What a relief. But it was much more than a relief. I was in heaven, my own little brand of it. I laid back in the leaves and stared up into the blue sky. Leaves and rocks and trees and sky and sunshine. Why did I ever leave? Why do I ever leave? I rolled over and stuck my nose in the leaves, and took in their, well, their "leaf" smell. Nothing else smells like it. I closed my eyes and quickly drifted off into a deep sleep.

An hour or so later I woke up, and reluctantly walked back to the van and headed towards town. I had more work to do. It turned into a very long day, and with the exception of my short nap in the leaves, I spent over 40 hours straight on the move.

The following day was a long one too, with a ton of book and pictures business to take care of, but I got to spend a few hours with a friend in the evening that made it all worth while. Five entire hours of nothing but great conversation (plus a bit of good food, wine, and hot tubbing in the moonlight). She left at 1am, and I loaded up the van with more books, then drove back out to Cloudland. Everything seemed pretty damp, but warm. It didn't take me long to crash.

I was up by 6am, and spent several hours unboxing books and signing them. It was a very grey, overcast day, with intermittent rain. I realized that my rain gauge wasn't working, so I went out into the rain and climbed up the ladder and fixed it. It seemed like about an inch of rain had fallen before I fixed it, so I'll add that to the total. The warm rain produced dozens of steam vents that danced about in the valleys below. Every few minutes I would look out the window and the scene was entirely different - the clouds were really on the move, getting bigger, then smaller, and moving back and forth all the while. And then the sun broke out, and lit up all of the clouds - it was a spectacular light show!

Billy McNamara came over around noon and signed a couple of hundred books. The local Jasper paper had pictures and short articles about us in both of the last issues (it's a weekly) - we are becoming famous, but only in our own neighborhoods!

After Billy left, I loaded all of the books in the van again, and drove back to Fayetteville. I had to give a program in Bentonville that night, and to a packed house. Neil Compton was there, and so was Helen Walton, widow of the late Sam Walton of Wal Mart fame. Lynn Walton, a daughter-in-law of Helen's was there too. It was a delightful evening, and I stood there in awe of these nice people talking to me that were worth literally billions and billions of dollars, yet who were just as ordinary as anyone. Helen bought a few books (yea!).

Back to Fayetteville I drove, unloaded the van of the program stuff, then loaded it again with books, then drove back out to Cloudland. It was after midnight when I arrived. I was getting a little tired, but the fact that I do love all of this book business was keeping me going with no problems. And I had lost eight pounds. That was hard for me to believe, especially since I had been eating so much junk food on the run.

The next morning I got to sleep in until daylight, then got up and loaded more books into the van. The wind was blowing like crazy, and it had topped out at 41mph during the night. I had secured all of the chairs on the deck, and the gas grill, so nothing went for a walk. It remained very warm, in the 60's. As I was leaving the cabin, I came across the Woods clan, all dressed in the orange hunting garb, working their deer dogs. It was the last weekend of deer season.

I drove down to Little Rock for a book signing at Barnes and Noble. I normally hate book signings, especially when not very many people show up. This was the only book signing that I had scheduled for this fall (50 slide shows show, which I like a lot better). It was down right hot in Little Rock, and VERY congested. It took me 15 minutes to drive from Best Buy to Barnes and Noble - a distance of just under one block. Really. Lots of traffic. I don't know why people live in cities! But then, I'm sure glad they don't all live out at Cloudland!

The book signing went very well, the best ever, and there were lots of people in line all day. There were even two different TV stations that came out and did stories. Erna, my friend from Hot Springs, dropped by to pick up a print that she had ordered, and brought me a box full of Christmas cookies - yea, cookies!

I had several stops to make on the way back to deliver books to bookstores, but finally did make it to Cloudland at about 8pm. I stopped by Bob's cabin, and he was watching both a football and a basketball game on his satellite TV (there is no TV at Cloudland).

As I approached my cabin, I thought something was on fire - oh no! What I saw was one of the most incredible moonrises that I had ever witnessed - it was just breathtaking. The moon was brilliant orange, like flames, I mean really bright. But it looked weird. The upper right corner was missing - it was lit from the left, which means it was getting smaller. Sure enough, the full moon was a few nights before, and it was getting smaller now.

The cabin was snug and warm and a most welcome sight. Especially because I knew that I would get to stay here for two whole nights, and an entire day. I sat out on the back deck and sipped a glass of wine, surveying the wilderness that was lit by the moon, which had turned back to its normal white, and was dodging back and forth behind clouds.

All of a sudden, down below in the Buffalo Valley, a couple of miles upstream, a real fire flared up. Someone was camped down there, and they had built an incredible bond fire - the flames looked to be at least 20 feet tall to me. I think someone must have dumped a bunch of stove gas on it in order to get it started. The Indians had a saying - "Indian build small fire and sit close. White man build big fire and burn down forest." The giant flames were reduced to a flicker within ten minutes. Man, that was one big fire.

I was beat, and turned in early. It had been one long, exciting, exhausting week. Only two more to go until my season died down. I looked forward to the days ahead, but also to the winter break.

12/6/98 The wind howled all night, but somehow I managed to stay under the covers until almost 9am. It felt great. I had no where to go all day. While sipping my Starbucks out on the deck, I decided that I really needed to get out and do a little hiking, so I planned to go back to Beagle Point and try to find the road connection that had eluded us last weekend. And I wanted to retrieve that piece of blue styrofoam that was still visible across the way.

It was very warm. I wanted to travel light, so I didn't take a pack. The wind was really blowing - gusts up into the low 40mph's, and a pretty steady 25-35mph. I wonder why the wind was in such a hurry?

Last week my friend Chally used a hiking pole, which seemed to help with the really steep sections, so I took my old sassafras walking stick with me. I have gone through several phases in my hiking life of using walking sticks and not using them. When I walked across the United States back in 1980-81 (I actually only did half of the country), I used one and it was great. Most of the time that I am hiking I am also carrying a tripod in my hand, which means that I can't carry a walking stick, so I have gotten out of the habit of using one. But I would use one today.

And the stick did indeed help a lot, especially on the very steep Ladder Trail, which was covered with a heavy layer of leaves. It didn't take me long to reach the bottom, and soon I was down on all fours, getting a drink out of the rushing waters of Whitaker Creek. Lots of water. A flash of white caught my eye, and I was quite literally stunned when I looked to my right and discovered that I was face to face with a Cottonmouth Water Moccasin!!! What, in the middle of December?! Sure enough, there he was, with his big mouth wide open, pointing it right at me. They do this to scare you away. He was far enough away that I was not in danger of being struck, and he wasn't coiled up anyway. And he was so stiff from the cool nights that I don't think he could move very fast. But it was just so startling to see this snake in the middle of the winter (OK, it isn't officially winter yet, but almost). I did not see even a SINGLE poisonous snake all summer! I reached over with my sassafras stick and flipped him into the water, just to see if he could swim. Oops.

I headed up the hillside and found the old road trace. It ran alongside a beautiful rock wall. This one wasn't built all that great, but it was covered with thick moss, bright green. Kind of unusual for a rock wall up on the hillside. I followed the road up to where I had lost it before, then continued along the bench, searching for the connection. It was very difficult to see - the bench was level, and so there was no cut for the road. But if you looked very closely, you could see a faint line of rocks, and an area along the bench where there were no rocks - had to be the road. I followed it along the bench for over 1/4 mile, and then ran right into the spot where we had lost if last week. At last, the final connection! Yea. I was thrilled.

I took the road up to the bluffline, then climbed up onto the "Back rest" rock as I have named it and took a little nap. There was a pretty good waterfall coming off of the bluff, which made the perfect backdrop for my dreams. This is a really nice rock (this is the one that drops straight off the back side), and you can lean up against the far side of it to rest, your back supported by rock.

There is a which hazel tree growing right out of this rock. We found it last week, but I never mentioned it in the journal. Last week the tree was in full bloom, but the blooms had curled up somewhat today - they like bright sunshine. Normally, which hazel bushes/trees have this incredible fragrance with the bloom, and they only bloom on sunny days during the winter. But we had noticed last week that this tree, and another one that we had found, had no fragrance at all. Someone told me last year that there are actually two different varieties of which hazels - one that was more of a bush that grew along stream banks and was VERY fragrant, and one that was more tree like, and grew up on hillsides, and didn't have any fragrance. We were not sure if this was true or not (Chally was going to look it up), but it did seem like that was the case. At any rate, I love which hazel trees, and this one was in the perfect spot for me to admire - I plan to climb up to this spot many times in the future and take naps.

From the bluff I climbed up a bench and made my away around Beagle Point to the main lookout area. Wow, it was a splendid view! I had never been to this spot when during leaf-off before, and was amazed. I sat on the bluff top and could see the Buffalo River way up into the drainage, but could also see downstream all the way into Boxley Valley, and even back up the Whitaker Creek drainage, and could see Hawksbill Crag. And, of course, standing watch over all of this was my little cabin right across the way.

It was still mostly overcast, but the sun had punched several holes in the clouds, and beams of light were dotting the wilderness, and dancing across the hillsides. It was like someone was upstairs above the clouds with a dozen big search lights, and was trying to spot something down below. I sat there mesmerized for a while. Clear blue skies are OK sometimes, but clouds often create magic.

I made my way around the bluffline to the spot where I could get down through (no dogs today), then found the chunk of styrofoam. I picked it up and half hiked/half slid on down the steep slope all the way to Whitaker Creek. And man did I land at a gorgeous spot on the creek - it was wonderful! There was lots of water, and lots of moss-covered boulders. Not to mention several deep green pools of calm water, that were connected by small waterfalls. I hopped around from boulder to boulder, looking deep into the pools, and laid down next to the rushing water to see what it had to say (no big white cottonmouths here). The creek was glad to be so filled up with life-giving water. And it would probably be like this until late spring.

Then I spotted a rather odd thing in the pool up above. A whirlpool, right there in the middle of the pool. It was about six inches across, turning clockwise, and had a little tornado down under that stretched almost all the way to the bottom, a foot below. I sometimes see these at the base of a waterfall, but not right in the middle of a quiet pool like this one. If the styrofoam was just a little bigger, I might have jumped onto it and gone for a swim.

This little spot on Whitaker Creek was a very special, magical place for sure. I'll bet there are fifty of them on the creek - special places worth some time. And I'll bet that there are a thousand of them in the wilderness, and many more times that all throughout the Ozarks. You don't really need to visit a big-name attraction to find great beauty. It's all around, in just about every little hollow and along every stream or bluffline or ridgetop.

While I wanted to stay there all day, I had chores to do up at the cabin, so I pressed on. The hike up was OK, I was sucking wind pretty good, but made it to the top with only one stop. The exercise felt great.

There seemed to be a steady stream of visitors to the cabin all afternoon - I did get my chores done, but didn't have time for a nap with all the traffic. And once those clouds opened up and it poured for about thirty minutes - a half inch. And the wind kept blowing and blowing, hard, all afternoon.

Just about sunset, the glorious sunshine broke through the clouds and lit up the forest. I believe all of this weather was just mother nature's way of welcoming be back to the cabin. I really did enjoy it.

The sun has gone down now, my chores are done, there is a Cloudland pizza in the oven (well, OK, four of them), and a friend has just showed up for the night. The wind is still blowing, but all is calm and well in my little Cloudland world inside.

After a little feast of veggie pizza and salad, my friend and I spent many hours in great conversation, only getting to nap a little before the sun came up. You know you are having a grand time when you turn to look at the clock to see if it is midnight yet and find that it is after 4am.

The temperature began to drop when the sun went down, and so we kept a fire going in the fireplace all night - it felt WONDERFUL!!! It was getting cold at last. Yippie!

12/7/98 It was chilly and grey at daylight, although the sun did peak through the clouds now and then. A downy woodpecker came to visit the log diner out back - he didn't seem too concerned with the two faces staring at him from a few feet away. I guess peanut butter and fat make a great snack. There weren't any other birds out, but a squirrel or two was busy gathering nuts. The wind had died down to nothing.

I had to return to town to sign some prints and go to meetings, while my friend stayed behind at the cabin and tried the couch on for size. As I walked to the van to drive away, I could feel winter creeping in, and see it in the woods. At the same time, there was a warm feeling inside me - that felt really nice. Hum.

Like all of the other seasons, I welcome winter with open arms.

12/9/98 It was dark as I made my way back to the cabin. It had been cold in town, and I hoped that it had frozen at last at Cloudland. There was a definite chill in the air. The cabin was cool, but not cold, 54 degrees inside. And YES, it had been 29 degrees early in the morning outside! Yea, freezing weather! I quickly built a fire in the fireplace, which warmed the living room up in a hurry. It usually takes several hours to warm up the rest of the place, and the main logs. Once they are warm, they will stay that way, and radiate the heat, for quite some time.

There were lots of stars out, but clouds were moving in. The wind was still. I was worn out from all of my town stuff, or maybe just from all of the past couple of months. While I had wanted to lay out on the back and gaze up at the night sky, I elected instead to go up into the loft and crawl under my new down comforter. That must have been the correct choice, because I was sound asleep in a matter of minutes (very unusual for me).

There are now two down comforters at Cloudland. One is a big, heavy one with a blue cover that was given to me fifteen years ago. It could easily keep you warm in the cabin way down below freezing (if it ever got that cold inside, which it had better not!). The new one is a very light one, actually called a down blanket, that my sister told me about. The light one is all that I really need, as the heavy one is just too hot for me most of the time. The heavy one will live in the guest room. My friend from Hot Springs, Erna, has ordered me the perfect comforter cover for the light one, one that will match the Cloudland sheets, but it has not gotten in yet. The new comforter worked very well! While the fireplace and the heat pump keep the cabin toasty most of the time, I feel that it should be just a tad cool inside in the wintertime - hey, it's a log cabin, and it needs to be cold! Better sleeping, better snuggling.

12/10/98 A grey, cold winter day greeted me at first light. Well, maybe it was second light - I slept in a little. But since the wind wasn't blowing, it wasn't all that cold out - in the low 30's. I stoked up the fire, made some hot chocolate, and generally lounged around in my heavy robe and slippers. Cabin life is really beginning to get to me.

I had a lot of chores to do, but decided to get out and go on a little hike first. It smelled terrific outside, and the swoosh-crunch-swoosh-crunch of my footsteps through the leaves sounded great. Not a critter was stirring, except me, and an occasional downy woodpecker that came flittering by. Quite often when there is a weather change, wildlife stays put for a little while. Once the weather pattern has set in, then they feel more comfortable, and get out and play as normal. I especially love it right after a blanket of heavy snow has fallen - you can ease through the forest without making a sound, and you won't see another thing stirring. After several hours, then everyone else comes out.

I climbed up to the East Meadow and did find some others out - there were five deer in the middle, grazing on the new, green grass (or whatever Bob has planted out there). They heard me at once, stopped what they were doing, and all stared at me. There were two big does, and three yearlings. They seemed to be in very good health, and not all that scared of me, even though they had just survived a long deer season where dogs were chasing them and people were shooting at them all day. After a few minutes, they went back to grazing, and I slipped around the other side of the meadow and down off into the woods. I tried to be quiet, but the leaves under foot were just too much, and the deer bounded off.

There were more deer in the Faddis Meadow - looked like three big does this time, and no yearlings. They saw me immediately too, and seemed a bit more afraid. Since I was walking on the road, there wasn't much noise, and the let me pass without bolting. They did stand there and stare at me, warm bodies frozen in the chilly air.

Towards the end of the meadow, I saw movement - another deer. This one was a buck, a six point. He didn't pay me the slightest bit of attention. His eyes were focused on the three does. It occurred to me that since this was the first really good cold snap this fall, that the rut might still be in full swing, and perhaps even now going full blast. The rut is when the bucks hear the call of the wild, and go out seeking to breed as many does as they can. I think this dude was about to get lucky - he had pretty good odds. It was funny to watch his jerky motions - kind of like a teenage boy out on the dance floor for the first time. I could see the steam coming from his nostrils. He was a tad bit hot and bothered. I would have liked to stuck around to watch how well he did, but I had work to do, and so left the soap opera behind and went back to the cabin.

It was a short hike, but I was glad to see the deer, stretch my legs a little, and soak up some of the forest. Back at the cabin I unloaded the van of a half ton of books (it seems like my morning chore of splitting wood has turned into loading/unloading books - about the same about of exercise, but not nearly as much fun!), then un-boxed them, stuffed them with price sheets, and got everything lined up for a visit from Bill McNamara to autograph all of them.

While I waited for Bill to show up, I put on a pot of veggie soup and rice - one of my standard winter meals. When it got done, I loaded it up with Louisiana Hot Sauce, and went out on the back deck to eat. It was cold, so I had to bundle up a bit, but the hot soup helped a lot. There still were not birds out anywhere, soaring or otherwise. It was very quiet outside, with no movement.

The even light was just perfect to see all of the tornado damage that Bob and Dawna had found a couple of weeks before. It was several miles up the main river valley, but you could see it if you looked really hard. And when I got out the telescope, man, you could really see the hillside that the tornado had destroyed - the trees had been ripped up everywhere.

Billy showed up and we spent an hour dealing with the books, and talking about the history of the area, especially about the geology and about the Indians and early settlers. He knows so much about this area, and it is great to sit and chew the fat with him. I have learned though that I have to allow enough pauses in our conversation for him to sign his autograph - otherwise, he would talk and talk and talk for hours without getting any books signed! After he had finished, and I was showing him the tornado damage through the telescope, I also showed him a rock shelter across the way that someone had built under one of the bluffs over there. Billy hadn't been there. What? There was a spot in this wilderness that Billy had not been to? I was really surprised, and elated, because I would make that a main priority of mine to beat him over there to it (I hadn't been there either, but then I hadn't been to very many places - yet).

Once Billy left, I loaded up the van and headed out to Jasper, where I had a slide show at the library. There was a great turnout, and it was good to see and meet some of my Newton County neighbors. And I couldn't believe how wonderful the library there - it had been converted from the country shop, which apparently had been in very poor shape. It shines with beauty now.

It was late when I got back to the cabin, and I was a bit tuckered. The stars were out, and I stoked up the fire for what surely would be a cold night.

12/11/98 Sometime during the night, a blanket of clouds snuck in, which kept the temp from falling below freezing, but the wind had picked up a little, and the wind chill had dipped down into the single digit's by daylight. I really wanted to get out and go hiking, but I had work in town to do, so I loaded up the van with the last of the books, and left my cabin behind.

With my continued hectic schedule, I may not be back to the cabin for a week, but I will make a post soon after landing.

12/17/98 Wow, it was a week before I returned, and the cabin seemed like an old friend, although it was a bit chilly. I had given my last slide show of the season, in Harrison, and arrived at the cabin late, very late (did some visiting in Harrison before leaving town). The sky was filled with a million stars - there were more of them, and brighter, than I had seen in a long time. The Milky Way was splashed across the sky, and Orion was high overhead.

A roaring fire brought the cabin up to room temperature, and I spent an hour in the big leather chair next to the fireplace getting nice and toasty, before retiring. It was good to be back. And this time, I would be here for several days, although I would have to make one quick trip into town. Outside the wind howled, and it was even blowing in the front of the cabin, creating a lot of music from the wind chimes. The wind would howl and roar all night, up to 43mph. And the chimes played on and on.

12/18/98 The entire Eastern horizon glowed bright red well before sunrise. Even the southern and western skies had color in them. But a bunch of clouds had snuck in during the night, and by the time the sun rose, the cloudbank had covered up the Eastern sky. The wind was still blowing pretty good, but a lot less than during the night.

I loaded up the van with one more pile of books (Billy had signed a bunch of books for me and left them at Milancy's house, so I had to go by there and pick them up), and headed into town. I had planned to return before sunset, but it remained cloudy all day, and so I stayed in town and took care of business, and didn't return to the cabin again until about 7pm.

This is the time of the year when the sun reaches its Southern most arch (on December 21st to be precise). I have figured out that at some point around this time, the sun sets directly behind the Buffalo Fire Tower, as seen from my back deck. I was up here all that week last year, but it was cloudy all week, and I never got to prove my theory, or get any pictures. I was hoping for clear skies this year, but the first night didn't turn out that way.

The first thing that I did was to empty the ash from the fireplace. I was surprised to find a few glowing embers left. I dumped the lot out in front of the cabin, on one of the parking spaces. The wind was blowing really hard, and the ashes blew everywhere. It was kind of raining a little, mostly misting.

My friend from town was coming out to spend the night and go hiking the next day, so I tried to get the place tidied up as best I could. While I was in the kitchen putting away the clean dishes, I could admire the reflection of the fire in the kitchen window. At one point I realized that I was looking at not only the fire in the fireplace, but also a fire that was a blazing outside - oh my god, I had set the woods on fire with the fireplace embers!!!!!!!! Nothing spooks me more up here than a forest fire (living in a log cabin will do that to you, even though log homes really don't burn very well - they mostly just smolder).

I ran out the front door and around to the side of the cabin to get a fire rake, thinking that I could contain the fire. I soon realized that the wind was blowing SO hard, that raking would be useless. So I ran into the basement and found the garden hose, then raced out in front and hooked it up to the outdoor faucet. The wind was really whipping up the flames. In another minute the fire would be out of control. Even though it was raining lightly, only the tops of the leaves were wet - there was plenty of dry stuff underneath to feed any fire.

The water came squirting out full blast, and I was able to douse the flames before they got away from me. I stood there and poured water into the site for five minutes, stirring the leaves with a stick. Satisfied that I had put everything out, I shut off the water and walked back to the cabin. Only then did I realize that I forgot to put any shoes on - I was standing there in the cold and wet barefoot, but I never felt a thing. I had dodged a very large bullet that I had shot at myself.

My friend arrived soon after. She quickly prepared a Mexican feast (it was WONDERFUL), and we pigged out on enchiladas and dark beer. Outside, it was damp and cold and nasty, but inside we were snug in our little log retreat, sitting in front of the big fire and talking up a storm. It had been a long, often frantic week for me, and I could find no better way to end it than spending time with my friend at Cloudland.

12/19/98 I don't really know why, but both of us were up and milling around at 4am. We both ended up on the couch, and spent more time conversing (I love to listen to people talk in the middle of the night - what they say is often more reveling than at any other time of the day). By daylight she had gone back to sleep. I covered her up with a quilt, and I put on my hiking boots and headed out the door. We were engulfed in a heavy fog, and the wind had died down. No finer hiking than in the fog!

It was very quiet out too, not even a whisper of sound. I love the smell and feel of fog, especially really heavy fog like this was - you can breathe deep and get the fog down into the bottom of your lungs. And the colors outside were SOOO rich!

Within a couple hundred feet of the cabin I came across a stump that I had never noticed before. It was only about a foot tall, maybe less, and ten or twelve inches across, all that was left of a tree that was cut down many years ago. The stump was completely covered with lush, bright green moss - every square inch of it. And some of the stump had already rotted away - it wasn't completely round, but rather had several "canyons" of decay, the walls of which were also covered with the moss. I wondered how long the little stump had been there, and how long it would last. Since it was so close to the cabin, I vowed to check on it from time to time, and see how it was doing. And on the back side of the stump, I discovered an entrance of some sort - couldn't figure out if it was the front door for a chipmunk, or a wren. No matter, someone had a might fine little green house.

Down the trail a ways there was a little cedar tree, all by itself, about two feet tall. It was covered with large dew or rain drops. And when I walked around the back side of this little tree, all of the drops sparkled, like jewels. I didn't have or plan to have a Christmas tree at the cabin, and decided that I would make this little tree the official tree, and that I would leave it right were it was, still growing. Later, I would make up some kind of popcorn or cranberry or something or other strings that the birds might like, and drape them around my little tree. Christmas in the forest, with goodies for all. What better Christmas tree could anyone have? Maybe I will do this every year, perhaps even add a tree now and then. One of these days you will be walking through the woods and look up and see a hundred decorated cedar trees in the forest - you would then know that you were approaching Cloudland!

By the time I returned to the cabin my friend was up, and we had some Cloudland coffee and toasted bagels. The fog had lifted somewhat, and opened up the view all around. The Buffalo was really running pretty strong from the recent rains, and was making a lot of noise. The clouds were still hanging around, and you couldn't see the tops of the hills. The wind was blowing around some streaks of fog, and it looked like there were two dozen of them dancing. Some were even going in opposite directions, passing each other. The wind was really have a great time with it all.

It would be a cool and damp overcast day - perfect for hiking!

We walked on up to the East meadow, and snuck into the edge of it. There weren't any deer about, so we moved on into the middle of the meadow. Then we startled a flock of turkeys - half of them ran, the others tried to fly, but it was slow going and they just barely got enough altitude to clear the trees. It is always funny to see something as awkward as a turkey try to fly. I guess they do it a lot better than I do though!

We strode across the big flat, admired the giant leaning oak tree, then went down through the bluffline. The side of the walls in Magnolia Canyon were really bright green this morning. We found several large beech trees that had been split down one side, but they were still standing. I never have figured out how they get like that. There were also a couple of large oaks that were leaning out over the edge of the bluff, and looked like they could fall over any minute.

Robert's Falls was running really good. So was Dug Hollow down below. We made our way on over to the main waterfall area. There was a huge oak tree just downstream from the lower falls that had fallen over all the way across the creek to the opposite bluffline - it had broken in two places. I bet the noise was incredible. This log, probably four feet thick, would be there for a long time.

We walked over a trail that is covered with a carpet of moss, around the head of the other big falls in Dug Hollow, then made our way down through the broken bluffline and rubble into the bottom. Wow, the creek was creating waterfalls everywhere. And blue/green pools everywhere in between them. And all the boulders were covered with the same bright, lush, green moss. The moisture in the air, and the light, and being with my friend made every step a spectacular one. Dug Hollow is just wonderful. And one of 25 or 30 others in the area - each drainage has a lot of special places just like this one does. Marvelous. And there were lots of giant sycamore trees growing out of the bottom too.

My friend had a new tree ID book with her, and there was this one big tree that we kept seeing that we could not identify. I had seen many of them all through here, and had been told many times what they were, but I couldn't remember (too much fog inside my head I guess). They have a very distinctive back patters, and her book had some great bark pictures, but we never could nail it down.

We continued our ramble downstream, past one magical spot after another. Then the water disappeared, and everything was quiet and dead still - the creek disappeared underground. There was so much water coming down, I couldn't believe that it would disappear. In the summertime or during other low periods, sure, but not when it was running so well. Hum.

We left the creek and contoured over to the opposite hillside. I wanted to show her the new spring that we had discovered last year - the one that Billy McNamara says was not there twenty years ago. It is one of the most beautiful springs in the area, or at least it is as it cascades down the hillside over moss-covered rocks. We walked right to it, and it was running full blast, and was a wonderful sight. As we stood there think about the spring, and the disappearing river, we decided that the two must be connected. Our theory is that the creek had continued to carve out a route underground, and finally it just broke through the surface and created this spring. The spot where the river disappeared and this spring were at about the same elevation. Hum. By golly, I think we've got something there! This is a beautiful spring. And it has no name. I'll have to take care of that one day.

When we reached the Buffalo River, we found a very WIDE river, and it was indeed running pretty good. Neither of us had brought anything to wade across in, or even our hiking poles or stick. Yet we wanted to find and explore a cave, and it was across the river. So we took off garmets and rolled up others, and plunged right in. The water was very COLD, and it came up to my thigh. But fortunately, the rocks were smooth and not slippery. I hadn't lost the feeling in my legs or feet, but they sure did hurt from the cold! My friend is a little shorter than me, and of course the water level was higher on her, but she made it across just fine. I like hiking with folks that can make it on their own (she had hiked the entire Ozark Highlands Trail by herself, so I figured she could handle a simple river crossing).

We found a beech-leaf carpet to sit down on and dry off, and had a snack. Our mission was to locate Tom Watson Bear Cave. I really had no idea where it was, only that it was on this side of the river, and somewhere nearby. The story goes that Tom Watson was chased into the cave by a bear. I don't know if he escaped or not, only that he was chased there. And there are lots of "writings" by folks from long ago on the walls. I have been told all of this by several different people, so I assume it all to be true. But I had never really paid enough attention to them to know exactly where this cave was. I did remember someone saying something about a bluffline coming down to the river, so we headed upstream to find one.

Before long we came to one of the most beautiful holes of water in the entire Buffalo system - deep and wide and the most gorgeous color, flanked by a small bluff. And there was a waterfall pouring over the bluff and into the river at the upper end. This hole of water belongs to my dog Yukon, and his grave is located up above the waterfall. He sure found a nice place to rest!

There was another great hole of water just upstream, and lots and lots of color. The river is simply spectacular at this time of the year. Wonderful.

We explored every little nook and cranny off the nearby bluff, but couldn't locate any sizeable cave entrance. We did find another spring, and it too was flowing well. The drainage of Little Pine Hollow empties into the Buffalo just upstream from this spring. Darned if this creek wasn't dry also. I never would have expected it.

We climbed up a bench and explored some more. We came across several more springs, all running full blast. Then there was another bluffline. This one felt right. And there was a firering with trash in it - left by folks on horseback no doubt - backpackers can't carry such trash into a wilderness, and probably wouldn't leave it behind anyway. I do love horses and enjoy horseback riding, but it is a sad fact that many riders don't take care of the wild places they visit.

There was a cave entrance in the limestone bluff nearby. Nope, it didn't go anywhere. Then there was another one. Not that one either. I could FEEL it! Nope. Nope. Another dead end. Then the bluffline gave out. Darn, I just knew it was here somewhere.

We came to Big Pine Hollow, and it TOO was dry!!! What was going on here? These creeks were big ones, and there was plenty of water on the ground, why were they all dry? And why were all of the springs flowing so well? It was really strange.

I was getting a little frustrated not being able to find the cave, but my friend seemed to be enjoying herself even though her guide didn't have a clue what he was doing. I knew that there was an old road coming down from the top in the next section of hillside, and so we decided to go have a look at it, and see if perhaps the cave was near it - I figured that it might be easy to spot (like from a road), since so many people knew about it.

The hillside was very steep there right next to the river, but we made it across, and found a road down along the river, and followed it. Another road came down from above and joined it - this was the main road that I was looking for. We walked along it for a short distance, and then spotted a cave entrance above in the bluffline. We had figured that there must be a well-worn trail to the cave entrance, and so weren't too encouraged by this cave since there was no such trail. It was a low entrance, and some critter had piled a bunch of green leaves on the floor - not really a nest, but just a pile of leaves about two feet across.

I got out my light and went inside the cave. It was low, very low, and I was duck-walking, and even down on my hands and knees. There were surprisingly a lot of small cave formations - stalactites, stalagmites, flowstone, rimstone dams, and even a column or two (I used to work in a cave you know). I didn't think that this was the right cave, since I remember folks talking about the writings high up on the walls - there were no high wall in this little cave. But it was interesting, and soon my friend joined me. She immediately found a little bat - an Eastern pip. They are loaners, and always hang by themselves (literally). This first one was blonde, and covered with find water droplets. You don't want to shine your flashlight right on a sleeping bat, because the warmth might wake him up, which would really screw up his entire system, and the extra exertion of flying around trying to escape might actually kill him. Anyway, we found several of these little bats, and took care to avoid hitting or disturbing them.

The ceiling remained very low, and we found the end of several passages. Lots of neat dripstone. Other critters included crickets, spiders, and even a bright orange cave salamander with black spots. It was also neat that you could look back and still see the small entrance, even several hundred feet into the cave.

There was sill one passage that went on, but we would have really had to have gotten down and crawled, so we decided that this was not our cave, and opted to turn around and look elsewhere. It was a very nice little cave none the less.

Once outside, we discovered that the bluffline soon ended, and there were no other cave entrances. Darn. We had to have missed it - I doubted that it would have been any further downstream. We gave up, and would have to return again, hopefully armed with a little location information. It was fun looking, and we found some neat stuff anyway. So we reluctantly headed back, and had another safe but chilly river crossing.

Next we visited Yukon's grave, adding a nice little mossy rock like I always do. Then we checked on the "leaning fireplace of Dug Hollow" to see how much further it had leaned over. There appeared to be several rocks from the top of the chimney that had fallen off recently - I doubt that this historical artifact will last much longer - it is really leaning.

At the old Sparks cabin, the one with two chimneys, my friend dug around and found all kinds of pottery and plate fragments. Another thing that I like about her is that she is not worried about getting her hands dirty. There is rock near the chimneys where someone has laid out a bunch of artifacts from the cabin, including three of the four iron left from the wood stove, and gobs of kitchen ware fragments. We dug around in there and uncovered all sorts of things. This rock is sort of a monument to the folks who lived in the cabin.

It was getting late, so we headed UP the hillside to a break in the bluff that I knew about. This is one of the steepest climbs in the area, but going straight up is the best way to do it. There are often places where you are going nearly straight up the dirt hillside, and there are no trees to grab onto to help you up - it really tests the tread pattern on your boots!

It had been clear down below all day - no fog, but still overcast. We could look up and see that the tops of the hills were still in the fog though. As we climbed up the hillside, we began to get into the fog - things became more and more hazy all the time. Or was it just the altitude?

We came to one of my favorite boulders in the area (also a nice resting place, and we both were blowing quite a bit). It has the most incredible pattern in it that I have ever seen in a rock - obviously formed when it was created. There are lots of sculptured shelves in the rock. And in one of them, we found a pile of fresh moss, built like a bird nest. Was it someone who forgot to fly South for the winter? Or perhaps it was a little pack rat nest or something.

There were several large overhangs in the main bluff, and we found more piles of green leaves and moss. Some of them were simply piled up on the floor, while others were stuffed into cracks and crevasses and shelves high up above. Hum - all of this leaf and moss gathering leads me to believe that it is going to be a COLD winter! I sure do hope so, because I've got skis and snowshoes that need a little exercise. I do too.

We finally made it to the top, and were in the fog once again. It was an easy stroll back to the cabin. It never rained a drop all day, and stayed fairly warm. We never saw any wildlife, other than the turkeys and several woodpeckers, and a few tiny little wrens.

OK, I couldn't stand it any longer. I called Billy McNamara and asked him about the cave. Son of a gun, the cave that we were in was the right one - we needed to continue through the belly crawl, then the room would open up into a 15 foot tall room, which is where the writings were, and then it would continue on and finally emerge outside in a different location. I felt a little better since we actually did find the right cave, but a little miffed that we didn't go on further.

My friend had to return to town, so she packed up her things and bid farewell. It was a nice visit, and I enjoyed her company. I am a very lucky guy, and have many more things in my life than I ever expected, but nothing pleases me more than the companionship of a good friend.

Long ago I discovered this contraption to dry my leather boots out. Other folks have laughed at me, but the darn things work, plain and simple. My boots were soaked, so I plugged in my little contraption and put my boots on it. I chopped a little firewood, and hauled it up and inside. Then it was time to fix one of my favorite meals - Greek Pasta! I made a big pan of it, then ate the whole thing. Of course. A bit of wine too.

No sunset behind the fire tower again today - nothing but fog.

It wasn't until I had all the dishes washed that I sat back and relaxed and realized what day it was. The greatest man that I ever knew died on this day nineteen years ago. My dad. I turned up the stereo, and spent the rest of the evening singing and remembering and crying. Tears of sadness because my dad was not here. Tears of joy because he was my dad.

I guess that I stoked up the fire a little much - I had to get up in the middle of the night and open up the windows and turn on the ceiling fan - it was WARM in the cabin!

12/20/98 Fog, fog, and more fog. And it was thick - I could hardly even see the trees just outside the window. I stirred up the fire (it had cooled down a lot in the cabin), had a Starbucks (I still love a cold drink in the morning - even in the winter), then headed out for a hike. It was wonderful hiking in the fog, as usual. And there was no wind. Everything was quiet.

I walked along the bench towards the Crag. Slowly. Quietly. I saw some movement above me - there were three deer at the top of the bench to my right. The fog was so thick that I could barely see them. They were silhouetted, all in a row and broadside, right were the hill breaks. And they were staring right down at me. They were the same black as all of the things around them - the trees and boulders - only shaped a little different. I guess you could say that they were deer shaped. Ha, ha. I was already chilled, and wasn't prepared for a stand off, so I continued on my walk, easing along the path. They watched me intently, but never moved a muscle. They were still right there in the same spot when I got out of sight. Bet they think that I never saw them. Wonder how many others I missed?

When I got to the Crag I was a little pissed. Some stupid idiot had camped there, built a big fire off to the side, and left a pile of trash in the firering, including two empty cans of chili and six eggs scattered about (the shells). I cannot believe that there are still such ignorant people in the world. That little spot is once again getting too much camping traffic (there should NEVER be a tent set up there, or a fire built), and we just might have to do something about it.

The Crag looked mighty fine sticking out there in the fog. I sat down and gazed out into the blank air for a few minutes. I could hear several pileated woodpeckers flying around on the opposite hillside, and a couple of other birds, but could never see any of them because of the fog. It was a little strange.

I climbed up the hill, past the Faddis Cabin, and dropped on down and found Bob Chester at home. He had just arrived, and was building a fire. He wanted to see if there were any wild turkeys in the North Meadow, so we walked on over. No turkeys, but there were two deer - they spotted us early on, and ran over to the edge of the meadow, then just stood there. I think that sometimes deer think that they are completely hidden by the fog, even though they can still see you. Bob has wheat planted in this field, and all kinds of critters come to eat here - turkey, deer, quail, and even the bears.

Bob told me of a speech that a student had made at his high school graduation many years ago. He said that the jist of the speech was that when you come to a fork in the road in life, to TAKE it. I.E. to make a decision and then get on with it, not spend your life trying to figure out which way to go. Sounds like great philosophy to me. I think it was Thoreau who said that when he came upon a fork in the trail, that he would take the route less traveled. I think that you will often see more wildlife that way.

I continued on my little hike in the fog, and eased on over to the East Meadow - there is always something hanging out there. And today was no exception. I walked across the first half of the meadow slowly, but not really creeping. As I got closer to the garden area, I saw movement, then I really slowed down to what I call my "movingstandstill." I have spent many hours and days doing this as a youngster while deer hunting. If you go slow enough, you can actually move forward without it appearing that you are moving at all. This is the only sure way to approach wildlife.

There were about a dozen turkeys, all hens I guess, and they were milling and scratching and clucking about like a bunch of chickens. The group moved together, sort of, but very slowly. I wanted to see how close I could get to them before they discovered me. I kept creeping, slowly, ever so slowly. They made more noise, and moved quickly back and forth. I got within about 30 feet of them, when one of them looked up and saw me twitch or something - even though I knew it was coming, the ROAR that they made when they all took to the air scared the beegeevees out of me! And it took my breath away. They flew off in all directions, and all I could do was fall to the ground with laughter.

There were chores to do, so I got off of the ground and returned to the cabin, then hauled wood and cleaned up dead wasps and unloaded boxes of books. I put on some cinnamon-raisin bread to cook, and built up a big fire. It was getting colder outside, and they were calling for snow. Snow would be great, but I had to leave in the morning, so I hoped it didn't snow too much today! Well, it never snowed a bit, and hardly even got near freezing. It just didn't feel like snow.

Later in the afternoon, some friends from Harrison came by for a visit. Bud Grisham (my ex-father-in-law, or as he wrote on the lamp shade, "once a father-in-law, always a father-in-law"), his wife Carolyn, and their friends "Stovepipe" Lawrence and his wife (I have always know him as simply "Pipe,"). It was their first visit to Cloudland, so I gave them the grand tour. And it was Cloudland today - you couldn't see a thing beyond the decks but clouds. I got divorced from Bud's daughter more than ten years ago, but he and I have stayed in touch. Now he is trying to fix me up with his wife's sister - hey, we could be brother-in-laws then!

We all enjoyed a slice or two of fresh bread topped with some of Bob's homemade apple butter (from the apple tree next to the Faddis Cabin). Carolyn is an interior designer, and I might have to hire her to come straighten my place out one of these days.

Once again there was no sunset behind the fire tower - lots and lots of fog.

Later in the day, just as I was finishing up another pan of Greek Pasta, Benny Stovall and Clyde Simmons dropped by to pick up some books (Benny is my homemade wine connection, and I found out that Clyde is too - they are going to help me get started making my own Cloudland wine). They were out muzzle-loader hunting. It was dark and damp outside.

It is dark and damp outside, and the fireplace is growing dim. I have had a great couple of days out here at my little retreat, but I must get up early tomorrow and return to town for more book business (there are orders for over a hundred books on my answering machine from this weekend - lots to do tomorrow!). I am ever thankful for my friends, and for the wilderness. Both continue to give me much more than I deserve, but I will continue to soak it all up as long as I can.

12/21/98 For the third day in a row, I awoke to a cabin engulfed in a heavy fog. When I bought this property, there was a lot of fog also the first several times that I visited it - which is where the name came from. But soon the fog gave way to rain, and the skies really opened up and it rained pretty good for a little while. This rain washed away much of the fog, and by daylight everything from the cabin on down was clear. Well, almost. There were still a number of individual clouds and steam vents dancing around in the valley upstream.

I had heard a weather forecast that said the high for the day was going to be about 30 degrees, so I wondered if any of the wet stuff was freezing. When I finally did make it downstairs to the weather station, it was 50 degrees - that was WARM! I guess a cold front was headed our way, but it hadn't reached Cloudland yet. Typical.

12/22/98 It rained about a half inch yesterday, and the cold front did arrive. And man did it arrive! It got down to 7 degrees this morning, with a wind chill of 1 degree above (must not have been much wind, or the wind chill would have been a lot lower). And it had "snailed" some during the - this is compacted pellets of snow, a cross between snow and hail. There were lots of pellets piled up in the road when I drove it just before sunset, and it was still in the teens, which was the high for the day.

The forest looked in somewhat of a state of shock with the sudden cold - nothing was stirring. I had wanted to get the sunset behind the fire tower, or see just exactly how close it was, but once again I was foiled as the skies were grey and cloudy.

It was 52 degrees inside the cabin, and it had only dipped down to 50 during the night. That's about what I have the heat pump set on, which should keep any water pipes from freezing. It was in the mid 50's down in the basement (none of this is real exciting news to most, but this is the first real winter that the cabin has gone through, and I am anxious to see how all of the systems work and the place holds up to the cold. Last winter was so mild I really didn't get much of a chance to test anything.)

Within minutes I had a roaring fire going in the fireplace (I did empty the ashes again, but this time made sure there were NO live coals!). As I warmed up my core a little, I got splattered on. Then it happened again. Uh oh. Was the roof leaking? But it wasn't raining, heck it was 15 degrees outside. The ceiling above me was dry. Where the heck was the stuff coming from - an invisible bird flying around inside the cabin popping on me? Then I found it - there must have been some snail or frozen rain that had worked its way into the underside of the chimney top outside - the fire was melting it and it was running out from the top of the chimney inside the cabin, then splattering on the top of the rock fireplace. It didn't appear too serious, but I would need to check it out and maybe do a little calking upstairs on the roof.

I did a few chores around the cabin, cooked dinner, then sat down and gazed into the fire for a few hours before retiring for the evening. The new down comforter upstairs was quickly becoming a very welcome accessory indeed - I snuggled down deep under it and drifted off.

12/23/98 It was another grey day at first light, but it was a lot warmer that I had expected, the temp having climbed into the upper teens during the night. And it was dead still outside. I got up, stoked the fire, and sipped a chilled Starbucks while warming my rump. Then I unloaded a van full of books (this continues to replace chopping wood as my morning exercise here - won't last long). I got out the tele and had a look around the wilderness - the air was clear, and while there were black clouds scattered through the overcast sky, it was pretty light. In some places the hillsides were lit up as good as I had ever seen them, although there was no sun. The tornado area upstream really stuck out, and you could see each tree that had been ripped out of its socket and thrown down. You could follow the route of destruction from near the river, up the steep hillside, over the big bluff, then up and over the top of the ridge. Lot and lots of timber on the ground.

Everything was pretty much monotone in color - that winter brown, with patches of grey bluff here and there. There were lots of ice flows on some of the bluffs, like on the big bluffs just across the Buffalo to the east - must he a lot of water coming off of that hillside. But the bluffline over on Beagle Point were clean - no ice at all. There was one pretty good chunk of ice just this side of the Crag. All was quiet, except for the hushed roar of the river.

Then a brilliant red cardinal flew up, took a swipe at the feeder, then flew off and landed on a nearby limb. I remember that my lady friend had told me to replace the stuff in the feeder or the birds wouldn't eat it, I hadn't gotten to yet. So I did just that, as the cardinal sat in the tree and watched. There were several little birds lurking about as well, and beginning to make a little noise.

And then a hawk appeared. I rushed for the binocs, and followed him as he made his way across the valley in front. You could tell that the air was quite dead, because this guy had to work for each and every foot that he flew - his wings were flapping like crazy - no effortless soaring today!

I don't know, something about the morning stuck me. There is a different sense of life here. A slower pace I guess. But that's not exactly it. You FEEL this place, the vastness of the scene, and the closeness of the wildness. And when the wind blows, you don't turn away, you lean your face into it and feel it touch your skin. You sit down on the log or the rock not because you are tire, but because you want to see what its like - the texture, the hardness.

There was a slight breeze, and it was coming out of the west - very unusual. Perhaps another front moving in.

I spent the day in town, but did return in time for another sunset that never happened. Oh well, looks like I'm going to have to wait until next year to see if the sun really does set behind the fire tower.

There were still a few coals in the fireplace when I got in, and it didn't take long for the fireplace to come to life once again. And instead of books, I brought a van full of wood - ASPEN! Do you know what that means? An aspen wall is going up somewhere, and it is going to be in the soon-to-be new guest room downstairs. I brought out 60 boards, and stacked them downstairs. I hope to get them nailed up by New Years or soon after. I'll probably have to bring out another load, but they should give me a good start. I think I'll call that room the Aspen Room, and the one upstairs the Dogwood Room (dogwood tree right outside the window).

It got up into the low 20's today, and remains there tonight. No stars out, and no wind. Cabin temp 57.

Sometime during the night I woke up and rolled over to see a sky filled with a million stars - about as bright as they can get! It was good to see my old friends, I only wish the clear skies had come along a few hours earlier so that I could have seen the sunset. No matter, I was thankful for their company on this cold night.

12/24/98 SUNSHINE at Cloudland! Few things warm the heart on a chilly winter morning as much as bright sunshine does. As the yellow ball climbed into the sky, it cast a glow across the frozen hillsides, illuminating many features that had been hidden for a week. Way up the main valley I could see a giant icicle hanging from a bluff down next to the river, and shining like a beacon in the night. I'll bet it was 30 feet or more tall. No doubt it will continue to grow as long as the temps remain below freezing.

A little closer to home, the sun lit up three smaller bits of ice that were clinging to the gutter on the back porch - they sparkled brighter than any jewels! And over on the right, a downy woodpecker was munching on the new peanut butter/fat balls in the feeder.

I guess that I had gotten used to being so warm under the down comforter in bed, because when I sat down at the computer to write this morning, it was so cold that I had to both turn on the heat pump to add a little warm air to the area, and cover up with a blanket while I typed. The fireplace does a great job of heating up the main room, kitchen and loft, but the outer rooms do tend to get a little chilly.

Usually when I am here on a cold day the fireplace is all the warmth that is needed, and it keeps the main room warmer than what the thermostat is set at, so the heat pump hardly ever comes on. When I am gone and there is no fire in the fireplace, then the heat pump takes over. The problem with all of this is that not only do the outer rooms get cool when I am here, but so does the basement, which doesn't get any benefit from the fireplace at all. If I turn the thermostat up so that the heat pump comes on when I am here (warming up the basement and outer rooms), then the main room gets a little too warm for my taste. I haven't figured out how to solve the problem yet (short of having oil-filled radiator heaters down in the basement and guest room), but continue to seek a solution. Generally speaking, guests who visit Cloudland in the winter can expect to wear a sweater - I like it in the 50's or low 60's in the cabin. Hey, it's wintertime! Of course, when there are a lot of guests here, the added hot air usually keeps things much warmer...

All of this talk of cold rooms is a mute point right now though, because it's time to get out in the bright morning sunshine and chop a little wood - the perfect internal heater!

Yikes! While I was out with my wood, the wind kicked up and frosted my, well, frosted a few of my exterior parts. Chopping was supposed to WARM me up, but I had to quit and seek out the fireplace. The wind had dropped the wind chill to nine degrees below zero. Ouch! I suspect that this reading will just be the tip of the iceberg, so to speak, as winter progresses.

It was a spectacular, bright blue crisp day, with the temps easing up into the low 30's by the afternoon. I spent several periods of undetermined time laying out on a rock, soaking up the sun. Then my brother and mom came out, and we went up to a section of my property that has some small grown-up fields in it - we were after a Christmas tree for the home place (in town). There are a number of cedars growing in the thick brush, and we picked out a good one and felled it with an axe, then loaded it on top of my brother's jeep, and carted it off to mom's house in town to spend the rest of Christmas Eve.

12/25/98 It was late, or actually very early, in the wee hours of Christmas morning when I arrived back at Cloudland. The cabin was a bit cool. I quickly built a fire, then stumbled up into the loft an crawled under the down comforter. Santa is a different character up here in the mountains, so instead of milk and cookies, I left him a plate of gourmet peanuts and a dark beer.

Christmas is a time for family and friends. I guess I consider the cabin a part of the family, and I feel drawn to it during holidays. It was great to visit with the family and friends in town (the food and drink weren't bad either), but I have just as many wilderness things that qualify for family status as well. I wanted to wake up at the cabin on Christmas morning. No matter if I only got to sleep a couple of hours before the sun topped out over the ridge and lit up the forest with brilliant rays of sun.

It was cold and very still out, and not a wisp of wind. The sunlight slowly worked its way down the ridges to the creeks and rivers below, the sky growing more blue as the morning progressed. Since I didn't have any stockings hung by the fire with care to check on, I wasn't in any hurry to leave my downy nest. I greeted the day, shouted out a hearty Merry Christmas to the cabin, then went back to sleep.

When I finally did emerge, I suited up and went out and split up a little wood for a few minutes, then carried it upstairs. The temperature was about perfect for this chore - not too cold, yet cool enough to keep from working up a sweat. But I was short on time, and soon was driving off once again for town - I couldn't miss a Christmas dinner could I?

More great time with family and friends, and another feast. So far, I have been able to weather all of the holiday feeds and treats without gaining any weight. In fact, I have lost twelve pounds since Thanksgiving! And I really needed to, especially after all of those weeks and months of hectic travel and junk food.

The sun was getting low on the horizon with I returned to the cabin. And the color of the light was already beginning to turn. I quickly put on my boots and headed for the woods. (The sun was already to the right of the fire tower, so no chance of the picture that I wanted - not until next December.)

It was cold, and the wind was blowing, but the low sun felt great on my face. The tree shadows were about as long as they could get, and the forest floor in between was lit with yellow light. The hillsides of brown and grey trees began to glow yellow as well. From yellow to orange. Then burnt orange. The color of the far away view of the forest was unique to this time of day - I guess it is kind of Alpenglow. Whatever it is, I rather like it. The ground and the hillsides glowed, then in an instant all was dull - the sun dipped below the far ridgetop. This special time of day only lasts a few minutes, and if you stop to do anything other than give it your total attention, you will miss everything. Like spotting shooting stars, I strive to be a part of as many evening light shows like this one as I can. The rare light on your face gives you good luck.

As I was walking back to the cabin in the twilight, I spooked an owl from a nearby tree - he only flew a short distance away, landing in a tree on the next bench below. I got a good look at him - a barred owl. Haven't heard one in a while, and I had wondered where my friends were keeping themselves. This guy looked back at me intently, but never flew again. I tipped my hat to him and eased my way on down the trail.

The cabin was a bit chilly - 49 degrees in the main room. I cleaned out the fireplace and soon had a roaring blaze going. In 2 1/2 hours the temp had climbed up to 58, then leveled off. The temp sensor is about 20 feet from the fireplace, on the opposite wall. It was a lot warmer in the rest of the big room, but colder in the other rooms.

Two Christmas cards arrived in my mailbox out here this week - both from young ladies named Rogers (not related). They were the very first pieces of First Class mail to be delivered here. Historical documents such as these will be tucked away in the journal and saved.

As the fire warmed up the cabin, I punched up the volume on the stereo, and put on a Grand Funk CD. I remembered listening to this very music way back in high school, during spring break visits to the Buffalo River. Gosh, that was some might fine music! I turned out all of the lights, and matched the dancing of the firelight on the walls.

At one point, I noticed a bright square on the floor. I looked up and discovered a bright 1/3 moon shining down through one of the upper windows. The moon was helping to light up my little dance floor! I drug the tele over and was able to stand in front of the warm fire and watch the silver moon from inside. Jupiter was out too, very close to the moon, and I counted four of its moons, although the base and drums were bouncing the tele around a little.

One of the things that I notice is that I drink a lot of COLD water at this time of the year. While a jug of water at room temperature would probably be just fine (since the "room" temperature in the cabin is normally about cave temperature), the water cooler in the office is great because I can get draw at any time that I like. I've always liked cold water, even in the winter.

As the night grew on, more CD's bounced off of the walls of the cabin. And the moon moved. Laying back in the big chair, I could bask in the glow of the fire and that of the moon at the same time.

I moved on to a CD that my friend Vicki in Austin, Texas got me several years ago - some really GREAT music by varied artists, all recorded live for a radio station there. This CD sounds especially terrific on the sound system here. (So did Grand Funk!) There were a number of songs that not only have wonderful music, but great lyrics as well. I tried and tried to listen to all of the words on a couple of them, but would always get distracted inside my brain before the song had finished. It is easy to sit back and let your mind wander out here. I can always listen to he songs again.

Then I couldn't stand it any longer - the moonlight was calling me out for a visit. I put on my boots, down jacket, and wind jacket too, and headed out into the cold moonlight. It was bright - 1/3 of a moon, just the way I like it. I brought along a pair of clear goggles to see if I could hike through the woods with them on. Yes, they worked great - no worry about limbs poking your eyes out. But I couldn't see nearly as good around the sides of my vision, which is important to me, especially at night in the woods, so I took off the goggles and went back to hiking with my hands out in front in questionable areas.

The trees, and their shadows, and the stars, and the moonlight were all magnificent! It was cold, but I headed uphill and quickly warmed up. The wind was blowing, and it really bit my face, which was uncovered. I went on up to the Faddis Meadow, where there were millions of stars out. I stopped and chatted with one of the big hickory trees next to the lane. When you looked up into the sky, each of the hundreds of silhouetted little branches pointed to a star. And the patterns of the shadows on the ground were amazing. This old tree had a great deal of character.

I realized that since no one was at the Faddis Cabin, or down at Bob's, and there were no cars at the Crag Trailhead, that I was probably the only person on this entire mountain tonight. I love crowds. I treasure time with close friends. But sometimes you find yourself alone, and I both need and cherish those times as well. I guess I have much more alone time than any other, and then most people.

I slipped on down through the woods to the bench below the meadow, where the maple stand is. The forest there is all open underneath, and the moonlight/stars/trees were spectacular! It was like walking through another world down there, not really light out, but not really dark either. There was a great deal of detail in the shadows, but nothing sharp or focused. All of it was kind of in between.

The wind had died down a little, and I decided to lay back in the leaves and study the forest and the moonlight and the stars. I reached out and brought up a pile of leaves close to me on either side for a little extra warmth. I don't go to any church to worship. I feel like I LIVE in a church, the Church of the Wilderness, and I sure could feel an almighty power all around me this night. I don't know, you just have to go out in the middle of the night in the winter and lay down in the leaves to know what I mean.

Then I heard footsteps. They were soft and muted, more like a rustling than footsteps. I strained to hear, yet kept very still. I rolled over just a little to get a good view - a family of deer came slipping through the trees, backlit by the moon. They were cautious, only moving one at a time, and just for a few feet, stopping in between each series of steps to look around in all directions, and listen, and reach down and grab a nut or something else to munch on every once in a while. They came down across the bench, and headed towards the lower bench. They never saw or scented me. I was watching them for maybe two or three minutes. That was a marvelous gift indeed! How much more could anyone ask for - the moonlight, trees, stars, and deer to boot!

The chill worked its way into my bones, and so I got up and headed back to the cabin. Everything was quiet as I walked down the lane, the moon at my back. As I got closer to the cabin, an unknown shadow appeared ahead. It wasn't a deer. There was no movement. I am normally not spooked much on these night hikes, but this shadow was beginning to tug at me a little. What the heck was it? A chill ran down my back, and it wasn't from the cold. Well, I didn't think that there were any bears out and up above the bluffline at this time of the year, and certainly it wasn't a person, so I just decided to walk on and spook it up and see what it was. I got closer, and closer, and closer, and still it was motionless. The echo of my laughter echoed through the forest - it was nothing more than an old stump! I'll bet all the other critters out watching me had a good laugh too.

The wind chimes mixed with the night air called me back towards my log haven. Through the windows I could see the shadows of the flickering flames on the walls. It looked mighty inviting in there. And it was. Fine music, a warm fire, the moonlight, and another day at Cloudland drew to a close.

Merry Christmas to all, and Happy New Year. Let's hope its a good one, without any tears...

12/26/98 Early orange glow in the Eastern sky. Above were pink clouds against a blue sky. Slowly, the color faded, then the bright sun peeked out over the hill and through the trees, warming all that it touched. There were great contrasts out in the forest this morning - Bright detail in the sunny parts, and coal black where no light had reached yet.

I had a Starbucks, w/Grape Nuts and yogurt, stoked up the fire, then descended into the basement to get things ready for the work day. Scott Crook from Fayetteville showed up about mid morning to help with the Aspen. And he brought all of the tools - an air compressor, hose, nail gun (w/1 1/2" staples), and lunch. What more could you ask for - all of that plus free labor to boot!

We spent the rest of the morning, and all afternoon putting up the Aspen boards in the downstairs guest room. Wow, what an improvement! We were only able to get two main wall done, and half of a third, but it was already looking like a guest room instead of some cold space in the basement. It took 19 rows of the 1" x 6" boards to reach the ceiling on each wall. Neither of us are finish carpenters, but we do OK. Scott also helped put up many of the other Aspen walls out here.

I had wanted to do all of the walls with simple drywall and paint, then with an all-wood siding, but both plans had been vetoed by my many guests, so I decided to spring for the extra $$$ and do the Aspen. It is wonderful stuff, light in color and in weight, and easy to work with. Once it is all up, I will spray it with a clear protectant, and then that will be it - the natural color will shine on through, and it won't darken much through the years. Aspen is on all of the non-log walls in the cabin, and up on the ceiling. The porch ceilings are pine.

We worked pretty steadily through the day, with only one break for visitors (well, we did take a couple of other breaks, but only for pecan pie - via Scott's wife Carolyn - homemade pies are required for the carpenter work out here at the cabin). As we were getting to the last of the pile of boards, the western and southern skies lit up with an incredible light display of multi-colored clouds against a brilliant blue sky. It was wonderful.

Later, I made a big pan of Greek Pasta, and had some muscadine wine to go with it (a clash of cultures I know, but what the heck). The moon and stars were out shining brightly, and the wind was kicking up a bit, making the 30 degree temp feel rather chilly. It had climbed up into the low 40's during the day, and is supposed to get up into the 50's tomorrow.

One odd thing that I noticed today - we never saw a single living thing, except for a couple of visitors. No birds of any kind, no squirrels, no nothing. It was a gorgeous day out, as winter days with full sun are apt to be here, but I guess the wildlife was all inside recovering from all of the Christmas parties.

I think that I am the only person out here on the mountain again tonight - no one at the Faddis or Chester cabins, and the trailhead is empty. It is a great time of the year to be outside, or at least sitting in your warm and toasty cabin gazing out into the cold moonlight.

No wild music tonight - just a little folk Christmas music from Mike Shirkey's Pickin' Post. The fire is hot, and it is 66 degrees in the cabin.

I've only got three or four things to do tomorrow - put up a bunch more Aspen downstairs and clean up all of the mess, write the OHTA newsletter, and go hiking. And I might have to cut, split and stack a little wood too. And maybe go on two hikes.

12/27/98 It was a grey morning, with wind chills down in the low teens. I got up, just a little late, and got to work on the newsletter. By noon I had it finished, and sat down for a big salad for lunch. Sundays are always a big day for visitors, and there had already been a couple of groups by in the morning.

It was getting warmer outside, in the low 40's, but didn't look like it was going to get much higher. The sun would break through the clouds now and then, and send a stream of sunshine down into the forest. The wind had settled down some, and I was ready to get out and go hiking.

There wasn't much out moving but me - I couldn't even find a single squirrel. However, as I got closer to the Faddis Meadow, I began to see birds. All kinds of birds. Lots of little, non-descript brown and white ones, and lots of bright flashes of red and blue too - Cardinals and blue jays. It was good to see some life stirring about. It was a glorious day, especially when the sun peeked through.

I discovered an entire herd of people down at Bob's cabin. Bob wasn't there, and no one knew who was staying in the cabin - there was a white truck in the driveway, and a fire in the wood stove. But I did know many of the others, who had just stopped by to say hi to Bob. It was the Dodson clan, a family that I had known long ago when I was in high school. I used to swim with several of their kids, and a couple of them were here today. I hadn't seen one of them since high school graduation, over 25 years ago.

I moved on down towards Dug Hollow. After leaving the North Meadow, I just kind of drifted down through the forest, with no specific route in mind. It was easy hiking, and I sort of swung side to side from tree to tree. Anyone watching me would have thought that I was nuts, or was just a big kid, but I had a good time. Trees and I speak the same language sometimes, and we were today. They were loving the bursts of sunshine too, and the warmer temps.

All of a sudden I stopped and looked around, a little confused. I was completely lost in a grove of beech trees - several dozen really big ones, and hundreds and hundreds of small ones. I had always come off of the hillside above to one side or the other and always missed this particular spot on the hill. The big trees went on and on and on. I bet there were 40 or 50 of them. Perhaps the largest stand of mature beeches that I had ever seen. Just one after another after another. And then all of those little ones - they were EVERYWHERE! And all of them still had their full complement of leaves, all golden and crunchy and beaming in the sunshine. They were so thick, and you really couldn't walk in any direction without brushing against the leaves on both sides. I've always loved beech trees, but this grove was really special. I will return here again.

From the beeches, I dropped on down the hill and came to the top of Robert's Falls. Holy smokes, you should have seen the ice formations! I didn't expect any ice, especially since it had been above freezing now for a couple of days. I carefully made my way down through the bluff - there were a few frozen spots. Ice hanging from the bluff on both sides of the falls, ice piles up all around the base of the falls, and ice flows in many other places too. It was one gorgeous spot I'll tell ya.

I hadn't planned on going by the Dug Hollow waterfalls, but if there was this much ice still around, I just had to go take a look and see what I could find up there. All along the bluffline between Robert's Falls and the Dug Hollow falls area, there were ice flows and icicles everywhere. And they were all white, or clear, instead of the muddy ones that I had seen elsewhere. I'd never seen such a highly decorated bluffline before, anywhere. Even where the bluff was covered with moss, there were ice flows - and the pure white of the ice and the rich green of the moss looked kind of unusual together. I even found one spot where the ice flow was completely clear, and you could see the moss right through it - the ice was green!

And then I got to the falls area. And yes, there was tons of ICE! I had never been to this area with ice on before, but had always heard how wonderful it was. And the stories were correct. No telling how heavy some of the ice was, and even though it was melting, I was surprised that I never saw or heard a single crash. You will often get ice falling on warm days like this, when they begin to melt and loosen their grip on the rock. It is also very dangerous to walk along the base of blufflines when there is lots of ice, especially on warm days. But no crashes today. I could see where many had fallen off though.

All of this bluffline was on the south side of the canyon, which was facing to the north. The sun never finds its way along this side of the canyon in the wintertime, which was why the ice was still there. The opposite side of the canyon wall had hardly any ice at all.

This Dug Hollow area is certainly one magical place when the ice is on. I'm coming back when there is even more ice, and bringing my real camera and lots of film! I did have my little point and shoot camera with me today, and took a few snapshots, but they don't show anything like was really there.

I made it a point to hike back to the cabin via a different route than I had ever taken before, and I did see some new country. Unfortunately, most of it was country that had been cut several years ago, and was grown up with thick brush, most of it briars! The area was full of new little trees too, and I know will be back to normal before too long. There were lots of nearly-mature trees too (kind of like me). The locals who cut the timber out did so using the select method, and they only took a few trees here and there.

Once I got back to the cabin, I sat down and did a final edit on the newsletter. From my seat at the computer, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a person standing just a few feet away out on the deck. It was Dana, one of the Dodson crew. They had all hiked down to the Crag, and several of them hiked on over to the cabin (at my earlier invite). Before long it was wall to wall folks, and we all had a good visit. Even Bob Chester showed up. It turns out that Bob was around when most of the kids were born, so they all go back a long way.

I knew most of the people, back from my high school days, but there were a few new faces, including Eve, a transplanted Arkansawyer now living in Virginia. She was telling me how the Ozarks just "felt" a lot different than the Blue Ridge. She said the woods there were sad. I think that our Ozark hills are much happier, and she could sense that. I hope to have a new Cloudland reader in the Blue Ridge (it would be great to compare the weather, fall color, etc.)

I could tell that Dana had been reading the on-line journal, as she quoted a number of things from several months ago that happened out here. And she said that "Your journal makes me lust for the mountains, and I am living vicariously through your writing." And her sister, Lee Ann, who was in my class in high school, wrote on my lamp shade "Cloudland is a beautiful dream, a place to remember and savor when one is so far away from home." She lives in Florida now. What wonderful things for them to say!

It was a nice visit, and I enjoyed seeing them all. Soon the cabin was all quiet again. I finished up the newsletter, then headed downstairs and worked some more on the Aspen. I was able to use most of the scraps on two very short wall sections. The rest of the scraps will be used to start up the fireplace. I will bring out another load of Aspen when I return later in the week - it will take 40 more eight footers and 12 ten footers to finish up the downstairs guest room, and to redo the upstairs guest room when I get the closet torn out.

The guest room has always felt cramped to me, and so I have decided to remove the closet. In explaining my decision to do so to Scott yesterday, I told him that no one brings hang up clothes out here when they visit anyway. He added that I probably didn't have any friends at all that even owned hang up clothes. Hum.

Before I knew it, the grey skies had turned black, and I had to feel my way through the cabin to turn on a light upstairs. I hauled a few arm loads of wood up, but never got around to cutting or splitting any new stuff. The wood pile is getting rather small, and I'll probably have to cut up wood sometime this week. I hope it snows - few things in life are as enjoyable to me as cutting firewood in the falling snow. I guess if I lived somewhere it snowed all the time, and I was FORCED out into the snow to cut firewood every day, I wouldn't like it so much. Until that happens, I'll continue to look forward to the snow, and the firewood chore. Sometimes the simplest pleasures are the best.

After listening to NPR this morning, I realized that the planet that has been next to the moon this week is not Jupiter at all (not at this time of the year anyway), but Saturn. I swear that I saw several of Jupiter's moons the other night through the tele. But then I had downed a glass or two of that great dark beer, and Grand Funk was shaking the cabin a little. I'll bow to the experts. It is too cloudy to see anything tonight, although the moon is high overhead and showing through just a little. It is nearly half full.

All of my chores are done, I've written the newsletter, and the journal, answered all of my e-mail, and downed a big bowl of veggie soup for dinner. Guess all there is left to do is sip a little wine, enjoy some music, and go to bed. I've got to get up very early in the morning, and get into my office in town before 8am, then get the newsletter to the printer. Monday is always the busiest day of the week for me, and I do LOVE Mondays! Really. The more that I can get done in town, the sooner I can return to Cloudland.

12/28/98 I was up early, around 5am. It was actually quite bright outside, everything lit up by the moon. I packed up the van and drove away.

When I returned later that evening, a bit of fog had settled in, and it was cold and damp outside. I was so tired, that I didn't even bother to start a fire. The down comforter would do the trick tonight.

12/29/98 The cabin was rather chilly when I crawled out from under the down. My usual routine in the morning is to stoke up the fire, then stand in front of it sipping my chilled Starbucks Mocha. There was no fire this morning, and I didn't know where to stand. There was no warm place to stand and sip the cold drink, so I went back upstairs and had my Mocha in bed, under the warm covers.

It was actually rather warm outside - felt warmer than inside the cabin, although it wasn't. The temp was in the upper 30's, and the sun was out.

I worked down in the Aspen guest room some, using up the remainder of the scraps that were there on the "short" walls. It was looking pretty nice. I would have enough Aspen to finish the walls and the front of the closet with me the next time that I came out. I wandered out onto the deck and was blown away by the terrific view of the main river far upstream. The sun was at just the right angle, and you could see the river shimmering and winding back and forth for several miles upstream. I don't remember ever seeing this much of the river before. Since it is lined with trees the entire way (well, except for where the tornado got it), it is difficult to see the water unless the sun is just right.

I bid the river and the sun good-bye and headed back to town to finish processing the newsletter, and to get supplies for the upcoming New Year's Eve Party.

12/30/98 When I arrived back at the cabin after dark, I discovered that I had missed a rather cold morning - it had gotten down to seven below zero wind chill factor that morning, with the wind whipping up to 28mph. It was 49 degrees in the cabin. I cleaned out the fireplace, and got a big fire going. Then the phone began to ring.

Billy Woods called and said that he needed to receive a fax sometime during the weekend, and he knew that I had the only fax on the mountain, and wondered if I would receive it. This fax machine thing has turned into an important job in the community! And Bob Chester called. And several other people called too. I think there were more calls this evening that any other day in Cloudland history.

It took me a while to unload the van - I had a ton of stuff, mostly food, for the upcoming party. I never know quite what to bring. There were going to be as many as 18 folks here for two days, and all of them had been assigned food, but I didn't want to run out, so I doubled up on a few things, and got other stuff, just in case. Plus, I had planned to be here for five days, and my lady friend was coming out later tonight and was going to stay for several days also. So I needed lots of food. And I had it. Oh yea, and there was lots of booze - just in case we got snowed in, or attacked by a heard of winter snakes (whiskey/snakebite medicine, you know).

The entire downstairs was a mess - sawdust and tools and scrap Aspen everywhere. I dove into it, and within a couple of hours had everything looking, well, more like a basement and less like a construction zone. I even arranged the tool room a little, and the utility room. I've had a nice front-loading clothes washer in that room for six months, but have never purchased a dryer to go along with it, nor built a platform to put it all on, so the washer remains boxed up for now. It makes a good place to pile stuff on. Wow, the basement hadn't been this clean in a very long time. I prefer it this way.

Once all of the chores were done, I got down to the serious business of enjoying the night with a roaring fire and some good music. And then there was all that food. Now it was quite temping I must tell you - this skinny boy who had lost all of that weight during the holidays, no starving, sitting right next to a kitchen full of food for 18 - mostly party food, junk food, the best kind for a hungry boy late at night. And I must say that I did graze a little. Well, I grazed a little too much I'm sure, but it was hardly noticed.

And then one more phone call came in. I would have rather it didn't. It was my friend, and she had gotten sick on her way out to the cabin, and had to turn around and go home. She was really sick, and could hardly talk. She was really looking forward to several days off in a row, and spending some time in the woods, but now all she could do was go to bed and hope for the best. She sounded really miserable, and I felt bad for her, but there was nothing I could do short of offering my sympathy. She is one tough cookie, and would bounce back.

So there was somewhat of a gloom over the rest of the night, but the moon helped out a little. It helped a lot. Looking out the window, the forest was so bright that I kept thinking it must have snowed. Two days to the full moon.

I turned up the music, lit a lamp, and spread some paperwork out on the dining table and worked. The moon and the music and the fire and the cabin - not a bad work environment at all. I really do enjoy most of my work. Creating a good place to slave away helps. But enough of this work - the moon was out and I had some hiking to do!

So I bundled up and headed out into the bright night air. It was 29 degrees, and I put on my down coat and ear muffs. I have said many times that the best time to hike at night is during a half moon - I was wrong! This night was the best time to hike!!! I couldn't believe how BRIGHT it was outside! Wonderful, just wonderful. It was cold out, but there was no wind, so I didn't have to hike hard to stay warm. I got to just wander around in the moonlight, enjoying it all.

One tree that I came across cast a shadow on the ground that looked just like a giant spider. Other shadows blended together to form what I call "moon art" on the forest floor. The shadows are impossible to photograph (since the moon moves, so do the shadows, and they change shape constantly), but I guess you could draw it if you were fast enough.

It was nearly midnight when I reached the Faddis Cabin, and I was surprised to find a truck there. No lights on inside though. I didn't recognize the truck. I wonder if they knew there was someone lurking outside? If they saw me in the moonlight, they would probably think I was a bear. Oops, not a good idea to lurk around the outside of cabins in the middle of the night in bear country.

I hiked on over to the East Meadow to see what I could find there. I was walking fast, and as I approached the edge of the meadow, I thought to myself that I had better slow down and take a look into the meadow first to see if there was anyone out there. Too late. Before I could slow down, there were flashes of white everywhere. Deer. Lots of deer. They had been grazing no doubt in the bright moonlight, and could easily see me approaching. They took off in all directions. Five, six, seven. I counted eight white tails. That's about all of the animal that I could see, except for a dark blur in front of the white.

Hiking in the moonlight has become about as normal to me as during the day. I used to be afraid of my own shadow. But now that I have danced with bears in the moonlight, the nighttime just doesn't seem so scary. But something was a little different this night. As I continued across the field, a chill ran down my back as I spotted a dark object out in the middle of the field. It wasn't moving. Neither was I at first. But it didn't look like anything really, so I walked on towards it. Nothing more than a pile of rolled up fence. Someone had placed it there recently because I don't remember it. Then there was another dark object off to the right. It turned out to be a small cedar tree. My mind was working overtime, and on minimum wage. I was glad to get out of the field and into the woods. That seemed a little odd to me. You would think that I would feel safer out in the open meadow where I could see everything. But the woods are my home, and where I feel the most comfortable.

And the deep woods were lit up more this night than I had remembered. I could see every twig and leaf. The forest floor was very smooth, like the wind had placed every leaf just so. As I walked down the hillside across the smooth leaves, I turned around and could see my tracks in the leaves.

As I approached the cabin, the familiar glow of the logs welcomed me with a warm smile. It was toasty inside. A walk in the moonlight always makes me feel great. Too bad it was a walk alone. But I had my trees with me.

Up in the loft, I stepped out onto the small deck there for a minute to listen to the river. It was singing a peppy tune. And I could see the Big Dipper and the North Star from the deck - don't recall ever seeing them from that spot before.

A hot shower felt very good. As I settled back under the flannel sheets, the cabin was very quiet. The fireplace flared up, and shadows danced across the ceiling. The dancing shadows sent me away in short order.

12/31/98 I was up before sunup, knowing that I had a full plate. The fire was going as I finished my Mocha. Then a bright sun poked its head above the far ridge - clear blue skies today!

The first order of business was to install a couple of iron hangers at opposite corners of the upper back deck. Then put together and fill up two bird feeders that I had bought the day before. At last, bird feeders at Cloudland! I got the kind that are a combination of a tube feeder and platform feeder. They went together and up easily. Alright, I had feeders. Now all I needed was birds. I really expected for them to come flocking as soon as I backed away, but, of course, that didn't happen. Just as well - I had lots of other work to do.

Next on the list was to finish putting up the Aspen in the lower guest room, now that I had a plentiful supply of it. I jumped right into it, sawing and measuring and using the nail gun as fast as I could. There were a lot of same-length boards to put up, so I was able to cut many of them in a row, then nail them up, and this process went pretty fast. I did have to pause now and then to gaze out the windows to see what was going on outside. The view is nice from this bedroom. It was getting warm outside.

The sawdust piled up, and soon all of the boards were in place. Oh boy, an Aspen bedroom! It looked pretty darn nice. Of course, there was still this bare, COLD cement floor, but I would take care of that later. And none of the trim was up, and the closet wasn't finished, but at least it LOOKED more like a real guest room now. I liked it.

After a lot of sweeping and vacuuming, the downstairs looked nice again. Very presentable to a crowd of party-goers.

My friend was going to spend the day down in the meadow in back getting parts of it ready for wildflower planting, but she was still sick, and sounded like was getting worse when she called in the early afternoon. I wished her well. I felt a little helpless. But I know that when I get sick, the LAST thing that I want to see is another person - especially someone that I know. I just want to crawl into bed and stay there in the dark until I am well.

I continued with my chores. One of them was to clean out the fireplace and get the glass shining. My fireplace is designed to keep the glass generally clear of soot, which it does a pretty good job of - I hadn't cleaned it since last year, and you could still see through it well. But it was a little dingy, and so I used this special soot cleaner that my fireplace guy gave me - WOW, it worked wonders! I soon had a nice clean fireplace with sparkling glass.

All during the day I kept my eyes glued to the bird feeders, expecting to see a flock at each one. Nothing. Not a single feather was spotted all day. I guess they all were being well fed somewhere else. But I knew they were out there, and would find my little all-you-can-eat restaurants sooner or later.

Once the cabin was swept and vacuumed in its entirety, and everything put away, I sat down on the couch with a beer. Everything looked good. I was ready for company.

The first to show up was Hete. He had a big ham to cook. Not only did he cook it, but he injected it with some magical liquid stuff that made the cabin smell incredible. All of the other guests that showed up were greeted with this wonderful fragrance. And then they got to eat it.

Hete had a plan for a date. His first plan fell through though, so he went to plan B. That was looking pretty good, until the weather forecast turned sour. She backed out. I had invited someone for him just in case, so he was covered. Always have a plan C.

The fire was roaring, the ham was a cooking, and guests arrived throughout the evening, all bearing goodies for dinner. We had planned to eat late, after 8pm, but folks were showing up earlier than they expected, so we pushed dinner up a little. Carolyn Crook became the official ham taster. We all wanted to know if it was done. She would have to check. And check she did - samples were passed around. And again. And again. Then I put out the official Cloudland appetizers. We had chips with three different kinds of dips. Dottie and Steve Hobbs provided the best - a homemade bean dip. As far as I could tell, all of the food got rave reviews.

The noise level in the cabin got slowly higher and higher as more folks showed up, more food was put out, and more bottles of spirits were opened. I didn't realize it when I started inviting folks, but this would turn out to be the largest crowd for a party at Cloudland. Fine with me!

When it was finally time for the main course, and we uncovered the ham that Carolyn had been in charge of, we discovered that there wasn't too much of it left! But there was plenty, along with smoked turkey, and side dishes as far as the eye could see. And we even had enough seats for everyone.

After the smoke cleared, there loomed two very large cheesecakes that Keiko Peterson had made. One was chocolate. I don't know what the other one was. But with all the food and booze, I could sense the crowd was already beginning to fade. What? It was only 9pm. No fading at this party. I wouldn't allow it. So I had a plan. "Bundle up everyone, we're going on a hike!"

The moon was nearly full, and it was as bright as could be outside, but it was the middle of winter, and a little brisk. Some were skeptical. But hey, when at Cloudland, do as the Cloudlanders do. So nearly everyone followed me out the door and up the lane.

It was wonderful out, of course, but the cold slowed folks down a bit. I picked up the pace, hoping that would help warm everyone up. And it did. Before long, we all were joking and carrying on like it was the middle of summer. We took a short cut over to the East Meadow - couldn't find any critters out, or at least any willing to stick around while our little noisy bunch approached. It was really bright. Several in the group had been to the meadow during one of the meteor shower parties.

We headed on over to the Faddis Cabin, and used it as sort of a warming hut. No fire inside, but it was warmer because the wind wasn't blowing. After a short tour of the cabin, we headed out into the moonlight once again. I wonder what all of the wildlife up in the trees thought about all of the wildlife down on the ground as we passed? Soon we were back at the cabin, and the group that returned was much more alive than the one that left. This would prove to be pivotal, and would keep everyone up well past midnight.

It was warm and toasty inside, and time for cheesecake! And then the music got louder. And the champagne bottles began to pop. There was dancing in the streets, or well, in the main room anyway. As the night wore on, the only folks who drifted off were the three that didn't go on the night hike. Hum.

Long about midnight, we lined up the champagne bottles, and aimed them at the top beam in the big room - it was 23 feet above, and the target of our corks. POP, pop, pop. Mine hit the beam just below the top one. The Wildman's went everywhere but missed the top beam. Then Bob Robinson popped his - and hit the top beam dead on! He also spilled some of his. At last, the top beam was reached (first time in Cloudland history). We will select a new and more difficult target the next time.

As the new day and year began the music got louder, and folks hit the dance floor. I have noticed that with my crowd of friends that while most of them do dance, they only do so in small groups - I've never seen everyone up dancing at the same time before. I put on some Grand Funk. Then Black Oak Arkansas. And, of course, the standard "In Them Old, Cotton Fields Back Home."

It was getting late, about 1:30am, and I decided it was time to put on some real music. When the very first chords of "I Shown Have Known Better" sounded, EVERYONE jumped up and hit the dance floor! I always enjoy watching people dance. That is about the only real time that you can see genuine affection between a couple. You can see the love in their eyes, and in their body motions. It is just the two of them, dancing together, no matter how many others are out there with them. And there is intense pleasure, no only in listening to the music and moving their bodies, but in being with each other. A lovely sight. And everyone in the room was doing this, well, except for me. I had no one to dance with, but I was loving the music, so I slipped back into the shadows and danced away anyway. It was a fine group of friends. No better music ever made. I deemed the party a success.

And so now I have come to the end of the very first full calendar year at Cloudland. And what a trip it has been! The year that had begun with a very solemn and gloomy outlook for me, ended on a very high note. Heck, most of the entire year was one big high note! Cloudland is a treasure, a very special place to live, and to visit, and to think about for me. The quantity of the fine wilderness experiences that I have had out here were topped only by the quality of my friends. My only resolution for the New Year was to spend more time at Cloudland, and to make it an even better place for my friends to visit and enjoy. Thank YOU for being a part of it all, and for reading this journal.

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