More Ozark Images: River and Lake
More scenic scenes of happy hillbilly fabulous fun from the downhome darned old Ozarks!
You see first an action shot of my 12-year-old Sa-Rah expressing her astonishment at the super-clear-flowing mountain clarity of the extraordinarily "clear water of the South Fork of the Spring River[, which] runs through the northeastern boundaries of Salem and provides recreational opportunities, such as fishing and floating," for knowledgeable locals and unsuspecting tourists.
I actually used to swim in that water, despite being one of those "knowledgeable locals" aware of the hog farming that went on upstream.
We next see 10-year-old En-Uk, preparing to skip a rock across those clear-flowing waters. Regular readers will recall that I recently trained him in that activity.
Unfortunately, my training of him was apparently insufficient. I'll next have to teach him that rocks won't ordinarily pass through trees. Or had En-Uk been reading about Herschel Ducker's childhood pastime of implanting rocks in tree crotches? Hmmm . . .
Anyway, after excessive amounts of fun by the river, Sa-Rah and En-Uk visit the town lake (no, not that other, previously mentioned 'lake'), where the better waters invite a little fishing:
I must say that I don't recall so many regulations from back when I was a kid, but that's progress. Click on the image to enlarge for reading, if such is important to you, and you'll see that fishing is allowed these days with pole or rod only. I remember fishing that old lake with nets and trotlines back when my cousins from South Carolina visited. Good thing that the American constitution allows no ex post facto laws, or my whole family would be felons!
Having neither rod nor pole, Sa-Rah and En-Uk are limited to 'eye-fishing' -- if I might be allowed to invent a "Konglish" word.
Fresh from 'eye-fishing', En-Uk shows us the inexplicably supercilious look that he has caught.
Better toss that one back in, En-Uk. I don't like the looks of it. As punishment for his attitude, En-Uk is subjected to the torque torture.
This tortuous method has its desired effect as En-Uk wretchedly retches into a nearby ditch.
A moral lesson having been imparted, En-Uk joins his sister and grandmother for a chastened stroll along the lakeside path.
Afterwards, the three of them join other relatives at South Fork Restaurant -- nowhere near the clear-flowing South Fork River, thankfully -- and dig into a hearty meal.
Sa-Rah employs the meal as a teachable moment and instructs En-Uk on the etiquette of utilizing a useful eating utensil to adjust one's necktie at the table.
And an exciting day comes to its happy end, or so we must believe, for no other images were forwarded to me by my lovely wife, who 'appears' in the above photos solely as my own adopted point of view.
For I have learned that adapting to her perspective on things works out best for me in the long run . . .