FALL IN ARKANSAS

November, 2013 

WHY ARKANSAS? Hot Springs Village [HSV]—That’s Why!

When I was looking for a place to set up shop for these lovely autumn years, I went where we all go these days—to the internet. A variety of communities came up in my search: in Florida (too humid), in Arizona (been there, done that), in California (too expensive). When one popped up Arkansas, I was intrigued. 

I visited the Ozarks with my grandparents when I was a kid, and it was love at first sight. I thought it was the most spectacular place I’d ever seen. But that was 50 years (give or take a few). Since then I’ve been a few other places besides Kentucky, Texas, and Illinois, so I wasn’t sure if I’d react with such enthusiasm. Still, I decided it was worth checking into—particularly after I checked on home prices. I bought an airplane ticket.

When I arrived in HSV, I found a community of 12,000 nestled in a forest of mixed hardwoods and evergreens. I found lakes, golf courses, and nature trails. I also found a fitness center with a good-sized swimming pool and state of the art workout equipment as well as a a performing arts center with a variety of shows throughout the year. The surrounding area appealed as well. Hot Springs, with its national park and shopping mall, is about 20 miles away. Little Rock, with its symphony orchestra and airport, is about an hour away.

If I liked HSV, I planned to rent for a year and then make a careful decision. But Arkansas worked its magic on me the way it did when I was ten: I was in love all over again. The third day I was here I walked into a townhome that seemed to have been built for me. What can I say? I made an offer.

I’ve been here fifteen months, and I’m still in love. I’ve found friends and more clubs and interest groups that I want to join than I can fit into my schedule. HSV has to be the best kept secret in lifestyle communities. If you want to see why I moved to Arkansas, come see!

LEAF REPORT

Fall has come late to Arkansas this year. Here it is the end of the first week of November, and we’ve just reached the peak of the leaf season. Many years ago a friend informed me that he divided humanity into two large categories: “namers” and “normals”—people who can enjoy something without knowing its name. (I’m a namer; guess what he was.) As a namer, I’m eager to learn the names of the trees that surround me in the Ouachita Mountains.

This time of year is ideal for that task because not only are the leaves of nameless trees different in shape, they’re also different colors. Imagine my excitement, then, when I found a slim guidebook called Autumn Leaves and Winter Berries in Arkansas (Carl G. Hunter, 1995). Leaves are divided by color, and wonderful photos help the reader identify specific trees. So far I’ve learned flowering dogwood (shades of red and orange), sweet gum (red or yellow star-shaped leaves that have the most color variation of any tree in Arkansas, elm (yellow). Many more to go, so I’m a happy leaf watcher.

The preface to the book explains an everyday mysteries about which people often pool their ignorance: what causes leaves to change color in the autumn. More than that Mr. Hunter explains what causes the leaves of different trees to turn different colors. It seems that leaves contain many pigments that are hidden by the green cholorophyll required for photosynthesis. As the tree goes dormant for the winter, the cholorophyll recedes and the other pigments come out. A good growing season results in a spectacular fall, and frost actually dulls the colors.

Armed with these scraps of fact (factlets?), I’m wondering about applying this knowledge: Because my crepe myrtle contains a good bit of carotene, would tossing the leaves in a salad be as beneficial for my eyes as eating carrots? Because my Japanese cherry contains xanthophyll, (also found in egg yolks) could I scramble those leaves with egg whites into a heart-healthy omelette?

BOOK NOOK   

I just finished reading a book by Danae Horn I won’t soon forget—Chronic Resilience: Ten Sanity-Saving Strategies for Women Coping with the Stress of Illness.

1.      Take ownership of your wellness

2.      Identify and live your life values

3.      Set attainable, inspiring goals

4.      Nourish your mind

5.      Reassess the space you keep

6.      Call in the troops and put them through boot camp

7.      Empower yourself with research

8.      Live what needs to be lived today

9.      Cultivate discipline

10.  Find gratitude

None of these strategies is new, but Horn offers a plan for implementing each one that makes it eminently doable. More than the strategies, what makes the book memorable is the interviews from women who deal on a daily basis with chronic illness all the way from stage 4 cancer to kidney failure. Their comments are honest about the challenges they face but also life-affirming and hopeful.

While the book is aimed at women with chronic illness, it strikes me that almost everyone faces chronic stress—a condition that impedes their progress toward life goals. For example, I have a friend whose grown children keep returning home (chronic family). I have another friend who is continually underemployed (chronic economy). A third friend has a parent who is battling Alzheimer’s (chronic care-taking). Whatever your chronic condition is, you might be encouraged by this book. I certainly was.

CAT TALES: Just the Facts, Ma’am

My cat is Gabby. I’m SJ, and I carry a flashlight.

The place was Hot Springs Village, Arkansas.

The date was Friday, October 24; the time 8:13 p.m.

8:13   Strident caterwauling on Lanza Court.

8:23   More caterwauling. Gabby squares off with Tom, who weighs in at three times her size.

8:30   SJ, in jeans and sweatshirt, attempts to break up the stand-off with broom.

8:31  Tom goes for Gabby. Gabby darts just out of reach, sprints into the night. Tom gives chase.

8:32   SJ sweeps the yard with flashlight, calls for Gabby. No response.

9:30   SJ repeats sweep of the yard, calls a 2^nd time. No response.

10:30  SJ goes to the street, sweeps with flashlight, calls. No response.

11:00  SJ goes to the street, shakes a bag of cat treats. Calls loudly. No response.

11:30  SJ, in bathrobe and slippers, calls for Gabby. Faint response.

11:31  SJ goes to the street, shakes bag of cat treats, calls again. Faint response.    

11:35  SJ, now in bathrobe and tennis shoes, calls. Faint but unmistakable cry.

11:38  SJ follows cries across Lanza Ct, across drainage ditch, into wooded common area.

11:49  Gabby located at the 20 foot level of slender pine tree. Frightened but uninjured.

11:50  SJ calls; with flashlight guides Gabby down, limb by limb.

11:54  At the 10 foot level Gabby reaches the last branch, balks. SJ encourages Gabby.

11:55  Gabby considers jumping, refuses. SJ encourages Gabby.

11:57  Gabby embraces tree trunk , inches down backwards. SJ continues encouragement.

11:59  Gabby, visibly proud, reaches 4 foot level, jumps to the ground.

                       

Saturday, October 25

12:01 a.m. Gabby restored to home and family. Cuddles, cat treats, and chocolate.

MY WRITING LIFE

Over three hundred years ago John Milton wrote the line “They also serve who only stand and wait.” He was working his way through the inactivity blindness saddled him with, but a paraphrase of that line would sum up the last couple of months for me: We also write who only sit and wait. Winning the American Christian Fiction Writers’ Genesis contest in romantic suspense was a thrill. Invitations from a top literary agent and an editor to submit my manuscript were even more exciting.

Then the waiting began. And the questions—What will they think? (When will I hear?) Did my manuscript make it past the first reader? (When will I hear?) What will I do if I’m told “Yes”? What will I do if I’m told “No”? (When will I hear?) What to do meanwhile? It turns out there’s one answer to all of these questions: keep writing.