Meandering through the Delta (again)

The supply of stuff to see in the Delta never seems to run dry. Well, from a tongue-in-cheek standpoint, right now, at 18-24″ or so of rain over average, depending on where you are, precious little in the Delta is “running dry.”

Weather comments notwithstanding, in this edition of Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind, we again meander around the Delta, seeing stuff. The trip started through a tunnel of pecans trees south of Scott, Arkansas. Click here to see two pictures of the tunnel and get in on the start of the story on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer do com.

What's left of the "big" house on the Tucker Plantation, Tucker, Arkansas.

Families lived here, deals were struck here and a large farming operation was once managed from this formerly imposing residence. The Tucker Plantation, at Tucker, Arkansas was established in 1871 according to local signage.

In the rich soil of the Delta, vines are "happy in their work." The second floor window would have been to a bedroom, if the floor plan was typical of the day.

Typical of farming operations in the day, there was a store and gin which were part of the plantation. The farming part of the operation continues. The residential, retail and ginning parts are things of the past. The model of economic growth for the last half of the twentieth century, and continuing to the 21st seems to summarily jettison “outmoded” entities and let them die on the vine rather than devote resources to a proper burial. Not de jure, but de facto.

Rail cars on permanent display in down town Lonoke, Arkansas.

Further to the north at Lonoke, Arkansas local organizations have acquired a couple of rail cars which provide a colorful addition to the downtown area of the city. The former depot has also been nicely restored.

I was unable to get any information on the Stecks building past an obituary for Carl Stecks who moved his family to the farm in 1932.

Northwest of Scott, Arkansas on Bearskin Lake Road, you’ll find this old building which has the appearance of a store of the era indicated by the date on the sign. An obituary for Mr. Carl Stecks says he moved his family to this location in 1932. It further indicated that Mr. Stecks was an innovative and energetic individual.

Depending on your point of view, the tree trucks you see, appearing like feet on a George Lucas animation are actually trees in a small body of water at Humnoke, Arkansas. The trees and the water abut the highway on both sides for 75 to 100 yards, or so.

The waterlines on the trees above tell the story. It’s been a bunch higher than it now is. Give the current circumstances, probably not long ago,

And finally,

After many years and miles of running about with a camera, I finally manged to get stuck. The truck was “high-centered” after I misjudged backing up in an attempt to turn around. There was foreboding water ahead I had no intention of testing even though the truck has a very respectable fording depth,

When a vehicle is "high-centered," the four wheel drive is about as useful as wings on a pig.

Fortunately, there was a residence just up the road from the site of my temporary insanity. I set out on a short stroll northward. When I knocked on the door and explained to Carolyn Underwood what my problem was, she put me in her SUV and started a search for someone with a chain. The first person she asked, Bobby Peoples, had a chain and was willing to help unstick the truck. He recruited Gerrel Peoples. Carolyn led us all to the tractor which had a grain cart attached.

The Peoples quickly detached the grain cart and headed for the stuck truck. They attached the chain and set about to do the deed. Pulling the truck from the ditch was light work for the massive John Deere tractor.

My newfound friends steadfastly refused compensation for their services and sent me on the way with their best wishes. Life is good and full of rich experiences, some of which are brought about by temporarily imposed adverse circumstances. These circumstances like most adverse circumstances were self-imposed.  Fortunately, there are still good people around who will unhesitatingly jump to your rescue . I stuck a pickup in the big middle of a bunch of ‘em. All’s well that ends well.

Thanks for dropping by,
Joe Dempsey
Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind.
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

 

An extraordinary sanctuary

Altar at Trinity Episcopal Church, Pine Bluff, Arkansas was installed in 1929 by the Italian sculptors who created it. To the delight of parishioners, they sang while they worked.

Now approaching the 139th anniversary of its first worship service, the sanctuary of Trinity Episcopal Church of Pine Bluff, Arkansas,  is an example of timeless design and function. Before the first service was conducted on Christmas day in 1870, the entire cost of some $18,000 to construct the building was paid. See an exterior picture and another interior picture and get in on the beginning of this story on the Photo of the Week page at corndancer.com. Click here to make the trip.

Marble and music

Trinity’s distinctive altar, installed in 1929 was crafted by sculptors at Antonia Studios in Florence, Italy. The three ton work of art took nearly a year to the date to be completed and shipped to church. Sculptors from Antonio Studios accompanied the altar and assembled in it the church. They had other talents. My friends, the late Charles and Alice Warriner, told me years ago that the artisans were imbued with the legendary Italian propensity to sing and sing they did as they installed the altar. According to Charlie and Alice, word of these impromptu performances spread quickly and local people gathered to observe and listen.

This window, a memorial to Julia Embree Roane, was moved in 1929 from the east wall of the church, (now occupied by the altar), to the southwest corner of the nave.

Get ready to rumble

The sanctuary, designed before public address systems were conjured in even the wildest of dreams has acoustic characteristics which give rise to music that will raise the hair on the back of your neck and cover you with goose bumps. The fine organ will rumble the foundation. Add a couple of trumpets or other free-standing instruments and you will hear sounds you will not forget.

The music is made here at thte console by Faron Wilson, Trinity's talented choirmaster and organist. The sounds you hear roll from the chambers and surround you with melody and rhythm.

The building is truly magnificent. It is well preserved and cared for with all due diligence. But the building is a symbol and its true meaning could be lost were it not for the Christian people who make up the parish, occupy the pews and take up the mantle and follow the teachings of Christ. That my friends is the church.

More pictures

Blog picture reproduction, most of the time, leaves a bit to be desired, so I have posted these photos, the photos from Corndancer and several others in an additional gallery with better resolution. See those pictures here.

Thanks for dropping by,

Joe Dempsey
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

A great gravel road

The road running west from Rockbridge Missouri is a virtual honey hole of neat stuff and good folks. First you see the Mackey Place barn, which you’ll find on the photo of the week page at Corndancer dot com. Click here to see the photo of the week page. Back on the road, ford a couple of low-water bridges, curl around some steep hills and the barn below pops up.

Gary Russell's barn was built in 1923 with lumber made from trees felled while clearing the land.

Gary Russell and his wife welcomed me to their property to shoot the barn. They explained that the builder and original owner cleared the land with a team of oxen and a couple of Jacks. He made lumber from the trees he felled and built the barn and the house where the Russells now live.  I  found out a short way down the road that this is in the Souder, Missouri community.

Souder Store, a fine country establishment. They stock RC Colas and Moon Pies.

Liz Macmillan, proprietress of Souder Store, Souder, Missouri is every bit as gracious as Gary Russell. Liz and her daughters Katy and Chelsea comprise the entire population of Souder. The population was temporarily at five while I was there, including a friendly neighbor, the driver of the four wheeler out front, Glenn Plaster. Well, six counting Glenn’s dog. Liz allowed as how she was the mayor, city council, and  the chamber of commerce for Souder. I asked if she was also the parade marshall and all agreed. That too. She’s operated the store two years now and appears to enjoy a decent business. She has her merchandising act together, stocking both RC Colas and Moon Pies. Katy and Chelsea attend school in Gainsville, Missouri, a daily hour-and-a-half ride both ways on dirt roads. They take it in stride. The flag out front is the “Don’t tread on me” flag. I like her style.

Souder Church of Christ. The original building (the right side) was built in 1909.

Not far from the Souder Store, is the Souder Church of Christ. As I was shooting, I wondered when the church was built. While pondering this question, Glen Plaster rolled up on his four wheeler (with dog) and gave me the particulars, 1909. Turns out, there are some Indian graves in the cemetery. Speaks well of early settlers.

Unexplained barn.

Within sight of Souder Church of Christ is this old barn. It shows signs of age but is hanging in there well. Not a soul was in sight so I have no explanation or information for the barn other than this: Since the days of it’s highest and best use are long gone, its new job is to sit there and look cool. It is doing a great job.

Souder School. Home of the three Rs for many, I'm certain, well educated and well-informed students.

The last stop on this odyssey was the Souder School. It stands there replete with an outside hand water pump in the front and off to the rear, an outhouse. Neither of which degraded the three R’s I strongly suspect. The odd looking arrangement to the left of the porch is a shower installed when the now completely abandoned school was used for a while as a hunting camp and/or club.

Many would have been entertained as I contorted my somewhat aged 6′-3″ frame between a fence and a tree to get the proper angle for the shot. You had to be there. But if you were within a mile or two, probably heard the joints creaking and snapping.

The parting shot

Oh #!**#??%$##!!

On our return trip from the rolling hills of southern MIssouri back to the flat lands of the Delta, we came across this tractor between Hoxie and Tuckerman, Arkansas. This condition clearly demonstrates the propensity of gumbo soil, AKA “buckshot,” to stick to anything. The goo has a particular affinity for high dollar tractors.

Thanks for dropping by,

Joe Dempsey
Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

You belong in a Zoo

One American River Otter seems to be whispering "sweet nothings" to his or her mate. The otters, residents of the Little Rock Zoo, put on a good show, swimming and cavorting as otters do.

Most of us, yours truly for certain, have had that mild curse tossed in our directions. However pointed, the encouragement could not be more appropriate in this day and time. While the world around us seems to reinvent itself on a daily basis, the critters at the zoo are still tigers, they are still giraffes, and they are still otters and antelopes, you get the drift. Before we venture further, this zoo adventure started on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot com. Click here to see a fine tiger and a 15-pound antelope with a suspicious name and get in on the start of the story.

Two giraffes at the Little Rock Zoo seem to enjoy each others company. While observing the gentle giants glide-walk around their compound, one thinks of ballet on steroids.

If for no other reason than to put ourselves in the company of creatures unconcerned about memory upgrades, car payments, tanning beds, liposuction, dripping faucets, expired car tags, and pizza coupons, there is great value to a zoo visit. You get an instant reminder that Mother Nature’s forces are running in the background, 24/7/365. And, your visit helps keep the zoo in business, so others and succeeding generations may receive the same gentle reminder.

Ring tailed lemurs at the zoo seem to be turning the tables on zoo visitors. At the Little Rock Zoo, lemurs have their own private island which is viewable from two sides and one end, a good thing, since these little critters like to stay on the move, Or at least that's been my observation.

The value of the reminder, is that it helps us, at least temporarily until mental contamination mutates again, to put things in proper perspective. To see the immensity of an elephant, the elegance of a giraffe, the frightening beauty of a big cat, should, if we allow it to sink in,  give some relief to creeping feelings of self importance and the dreaded woe is me syndrome. Then when the wind shifts, and we get a olfactory reminder that these are fully functioning creatures with which we have a systemic similarity. The zoo educates us in all sensory areas, no senses left behind.

On the cute scale, these African Spotted Neck Otters are stiff competitors. They are smaller than sea or river otters. This pair seemed to enjoy having an audience. Short legged like Basset Hounds, on land, their gracefulness as swimmers quickly goes to the nether regions in a hand basket. On terra firma, they are hopeless waddlers.

On the other hand, some critters are well, cute, despite my railings on cuteness. Since they are, you might as well enjoy this dessert of genetic appearance. On the flip side of that, remind yourself that they are predators and consume other living things. For those of us who savor raw oysters, or just about anything else that won’t eat us first, that is no big deal.

This Malaysian Siamang is displaying some very human like emotions. Perhaps news of the old 401k tanking just arrived. In reality, not. But the look is surely there.

Bottom line, a trip to the zoo can be therapeutic. For this therapy to work, there are two requirements. First, go to the zoo. Second, let the therapy work. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

This is the 57th edition of Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind which means that five weeks ago, our first anniversary passed sans fanfare and hoopla. Fortunately, we survived this self-imposed ignominy to shoot and write again.

Thanks for dropping by,

Joe Dempsey
Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

PS: The Little Rock Zoo, of which we are obviously fans, uses “You belong in a Zoo” as one of their slogans. We could not agree more.
JPD

The “Wow!” stuff: seek and ye shall find

These falls at Lake Catherine State Park, near Hot Springs, Arkansas are about midway in a relatively easy hiking trail that loops from a camping area along the lake shore. A healthy rain the day before this shot gave the falls a bit more oomph, a plus for the "WOW!" factor.

The “WOW!” stuff we encounter in our lives is analogous to life’s desserts. Sure we can live without ‘em, but why? As a dessert, these experiences are non-fattening, low cholesterol and may, as in the case of the waterfall above, offer an opportunity for a tad of exercise. We actually started this “WOW!” exploration on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot Com. To see some more pictures from “WOW!” experiences and get in on the start of the story, click here, a very cool thing to do.

Water rushes over a low water bridge on an abandoned road off Arkansas Highway 171 west of Lake Catherine State Park. When the water is not up, you would probably miss it.

Granted, you do not have to take a trip to a waterfall or other special location to experience a “WOW!”, but for the most part, you exponentially increase the odds of being WOWED, if you put yourself in position to be WOWED. This means that occasionally one must cut the umbilical to daily or even weekend routines and nose about for something new. You may not know where you are going. A discovery is even more delicious if it is uncovered due to a random act of deciding which way to turn. Sally forth in a new direction and see what can be discovered. You never know what you will see. As an example, take a gander at the road sign below:

Lick Skillet Road off Arkansas Highway 80 east of Waldron, Arkansas.

When I saw the sign, I, in the words of W. C. Fields, ” … was compelled … ” to turn and drive down the road. This was not the first Lick Skillet Road sign I saw, but was the most skewed, so it made the cut to be published. I encountered a friendly young man in a pickup and asked if he knew how the road got its name. He allowed as how he understood that around the turn of the 20th century, a woman operated an eatery on the road. The good ol’ boys of the time observed that the food there was so good, you wanted to lick the skillet. And thus the name.

Further investigation by Googling the term indicated that this appellation, Lick Skillet, at the time, was popular. Turns out there are a bunch of Lick Skillet places and other Lick Skillet roads promiscuously scattered around the nation. There is indeed precious little new under the sun. Sooner or later, someone will claim to be “The Original Lick Skillet.” Or perhaps that claim has already been made.

Abandoned house on Mad Dog Hill Lane near Bluffton, Arkansas on state highway 80.

After having followed Lick Skillet Road until it terminated on Arkansas Highway 80 east of Waldron, I more or less folded the tent with the idea of beating a path back home. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but an abandoned house with some Victorian trappings on the confluence of highway 80 and  “Mad Dog Hill Lane.”  In my time, I’ve known a few people, who will remain unidentified, the address of whom would appropriately contain such a street — you know who you are.

No one came forth with an explanation for the name, so I folded the tent again and headed south. Our imagination can fill in the blanks on Mad Dog Hill Lane until something better comes along.

Thanks for dropping by,

Joe Dempsey
Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

Family tree

The ceramic chicken is in no danger. Despite what you may think, this a live tree, not an attack by alien mutants. The tree is a 139 year old Bois d' arc, one of Mother Nature's toughest children.

This Bois d’ arc tree, with a mind of its own and a genetic urge to survive, decided to grow horizontally instead of vertically. You can see more pictures of the tree and a picture of its caretaker where this story started on the Photo of the Week Page at Corndancer dot com. Click here to see the pictures and original story.

The giant horizontal bois d' arc tree, a prominent fixture and point of pride in the yard of Gerald and Candi Ware of Greenwood, Arkansas was probably planted by original homesteaders who settled their place around 1870 or so. Bois d' arc trees produce a tough and hard wood. Indians prized the wood for making the best bows.

The tree has a good place go grow. Its roots are close by the natural spring which provides water for the Ware household. Given those favorable growing conditions, the tree probably outgrew its ability to support itself and given the genetic trait of these trees to survive decided that horizontal growth would be just fine, thank you very much. At least, this is Gerald Ware’s theory. And since he is a retired biology teacher, his thoughts are probably right on target.

Cochran barn, a 1947 model, is now 62 years old.

A bit further down the road, still close enough to be in the neighborhood, Gary Cochran was chomping on a fine cigar and mowing the large yard of his ancestral home, if a 1947 birth date and construction of the home can be considered ancestral. I asked if I could photograph his old barn on the premises. He quickly and cheerfully granted this boon. Gary said the home had not been occupied in ten years. It did not have that appearance. Gary takes care of the place. “It would make my mother happy,” he said, and happily continued his labors. Gary is one of the good guys.

Log cabin with a carport? Hmmmm?

Not far from Booneville, Arkansas, I came across this log cabin, which appears to be the real thing. I’m betting the metal roof was added later in its life. You can see an entrance door in the middle, and a small door to the right. One reader suggested in an earlier postm that a similar small door on an older structure might have been to an interior wood shed. The cabin almost looks like it has a carport. Maybe an add on as well. It’s too low and small for horse-drawn carriages. Your guess is as good as mine. If you like log cabins, you’ll love log barns, check these out.

Thanks for dropping by,

Joe Dempsey
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

PS: If you have friends whom you believe will enjoy these weekly adventures, contact me at one of the links above and I will be happy to add them to the links list. Conversely, if you want to be removed from our list, let me know and we will drop you like a hot potato.

TNX,

JPD

The Towering Past

Old grain elevators in a cotton patch, just off US Highway 65 north of Lake Village AR.

A funny thing happened on the way to shoot some old water towers in Mississippi. Just before I got to Mississippi, I ran into the grain elevators above, in Arkansas. The water tower adventure started at Lake Dick, Arkansas during a thunderstorm, all properly chronicled on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer Dot Com.  Click here to see the picture and read the “start out” of this story.

Actually, the trip from Greenville, Mississippi north to Helena, Arkansas and back home started the next morning. As the trip developed, I kept seeing these old water towers and the story of the guy on the roof who refused to be rescued came to mind. So I started shooting old water towers. They do have some staying power, even if they are no longer used. Good engineering, one would presume.

1. Tower at the site of an old cotton gin on Mississipp1 Hwy 1 near Scott MS. 2. Tower at Shaw MS (where I found an RC and Moon Pie). 3. Tower at Rosedale MS 4. Tower at Gunnison MS, notice the gap in the pipe below the bottom of the tank.

Towers two three and four almost appear to be litter mates and this is not an isolated coincidence. There must be hundreds of these towers still standing.

So, exactly what do you do with a water tower no longer in use. It costs money, snarls traffic and probably will cause a power interruption to demolish or remove them. Solution: leave ‘em be.

It was snack time after the tower shot at Shaw. So I stopped at what appeared to be the busiest and most popular store and service station. Notice the terminology. This is definitely not a formula convenience store. It’s home grown. I was greeted by some sojurning customers and by the proprietress as I entered.

RC Cola and a Moon Pie. Can be a breakfast, lunch or dinner substitute or a convenient snack when the spirit moves one in that direction.

Thus welcomed, I  perused the drink and snack offerings. To my delight, I discovered two quintessential southern offerings, to wit: a cooler full of RC Colas and a shelf liberally stocked with Moon Pies.

Southerners need no further explanation. This is essential fare. For those of you not culturally aware of the nature of this food group, its roots are in the quarter-a-week allowance many of us experienced in childhood.

The logic was this: An RC was big.  So was a Moon Pie.  So for a dime, you could pig out and have some change left for other temporal pursuits, such as penny Fleers bubble gum. It was a practical matter.

As a result, one developed a taste for the combination. Later in early adulthood, or during continuing education,  the meal satisfied hunger when nothing else was affordable or available. The examples above are perilously tilting on the hood of my pickup, but where better to photograph this culinary delight?

This towering tank on top of an old building in Clarksdale MS, thusfar is a mystery.

Nearing the northern end of the journey, I wheeled into downtown Clarksdale MS to look around. They have done a pretty good job of restoring their downtown with an eclectic collection of shops, restaurants, watering holes and the like. Cruising around, I noticed a small tower/tank on top of an old building. I asked several folks if they knew what it was. They did not have a clue. Perhaps a reader has the answer.

Ground Zero Blues Club ® — Clarksdale, Mississippi

Further downtown in Clarksdale is the Ground Zero Blues Club ® established in 2001 by actor Academy Award Winning Morgan Freeman, local attorney Bill Luckett and Howard Stovall of Memphis. The ambiance captures the essence of the blues. I am planning to return and hear some of its offerings and sample the cuisine.

Thanks for dropping by!

Joe Dempsey
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com/
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

Maple Hill Cemetery and Points South

The grave of Eva B. Coolidge in Maple Hill Cemetery, north of Helena, Arkansas.

Maple Hill Cemetery, north of Helena, Arkansas is impressive in its size, large; its terrain, hilly; its age, 161 years; its condition, excellent; and the art of its gravestones, very impressive. The monument you see above is inscribed  “Eva B. Daughter of C.R. and L. E. Coolidge  August 17, 1868 – August 24, 1871 Aged 3 years – 7 days.” The monument is accurate in every detail and shows that a well studied and experienced hand created the sculpture. Little Evas death reminds us of one of the bad old things about the good old days, high infant and child mortality.

Photo of the Week at Corndancer dot Com

There’s more of Maple Hill Cemetery on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot com where this story started. Click here to see three additional pictures from Maple Hill Cemetery including a larger version of the dog on the tombstone, and the story about how he got there.

Maple Hill Cemetery also has a Confederate cemetery inside its confines. Markers range from simple stones with a last name only to a impressive, monolith marking the grave of a brigadier general. In 2002 some confederate soldier remains were found in the Helena vicinity. Local civil war enthusiasts interred the remains and provided a marker.

Works of art and works of simplicity

Throughout the well-kept cemetery, you will see works of art in granite and alabaster. You will also see simple markers which are little more than small hewn stones.

The Barlow family plot is marked with a skillfully carved and detailed angel sculpture. Considering the age and exposure to the elements of the Delta, the quality is apparent.

But at Maple Hill, regardless of size or provenance, everyone is equal and receives the same loving care. The cemetery is impressive in one more category, that being the condition of the older monuments, which for the most part are intact, a condition not necessarily in fact at all cemeteries of this age.

Bird seed

On the return trip, south of DeWitt, Arkansas, rice farmers, taking advantage of a non-liquid day, were harvesting rice in a big way. Some say, “harvesting,” some say “cuttin’ rice” and some of the older ones will still say “thrashin’ rice.” Regardless of the semantics, the combines are rolling and the rice is coming out of the fields.

A few of the flock of egrets that were following the combines like gulls follow shrimp boats.

These behemoths take in rice at one end and spit chaff and stalks out the other and in the process will include some rice in the jetsum. On this one particular farm, what appeared to be several hundred egrets, a wading bird which depends on small fish, tadpoles, frogs and other small marine critters for its meals, could not resist the temptation of food they did not have to stalk.

A firetruck, but no lake and no swans

Next stop on the way home was the small community of Swan Lake, southeast of Pine Bluff, Arkansas, my headquarters. SWan Lake has an active volunteer fire department. It’s rolling stock is garaged, but they do have an old Howe-International Harvester R 185 fire truck on display for all the world to see.

A retired R185 Howe-International fire truck at Swan Lake, Arkansas.

Swan Lake is an old community and one presumes that at one time, perhaps there was a lake and mayhaps a few swans, but no more. But it’s still Swan Lake.

Looking down the bore. If you saw this in your rear view mirror, it was time to get your duff out of the way.

Thanks for dropping by!

Joe Dempsey
Weekly Grist for the Eyes and Mind

A ‘63 pink binder

It’s an R-185

Pages

Miss Maci, Mason Sickel's ‘63 pink International Harvester R185 tractor.

There are a lot of things one simply does not expect to see: Martians disgorging from a “flying saucer,” a pick up ice hockey game on the White House lawn, and a flying giraffe with zebra stripes. Add to that list a pink 1963 International Harvester R185 tractor parked in a barn in the middle of a soybean field in the Grand Prairie region of Arkansas. Until now. Folks, this is not a computer creation. It’s real.

Corndancer dot com

But there’s more to see in this rural neighborhood including a still-standing one-room school built in 1921. The school has a rich history not only as a center of education, but as a community center and a place where things happened.

See the Idlewild Schoolhouse and some pumpkins on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer cot com. Click here to go there, a very cool thing to do.

The truck wasn’t originally meant to be pink, but …

When I first spotted the truck from a distance, I figured it was red and sorely in need of a paint job. Closer inspection revealed that theory to be wrong.

The truck now belongs to Mason Sickel of the Tollville, Arkansas community .  It originally belonged to a neighboring farmer who bought it new in 1963. “It was one of the first tractor-trailer rigs put into operation in this area,” Sickel said. “Farmers were using ‘bob-trucks’ (for the uninitiated, a ‘bob-truck,’ in this use environment, is a single axle truck with a flat bed, in the two-ton and up range), to carry their crops to elevators or mills.”

A change of plans

Sickel had coveted his neighbor’s truck for a while, but could never convince him to sell. Then the winds of fortune changed and Mason Sickel got his truck. He had owned it for more than a year when he decided to to repaint in in the fire engine red common to IHC trucks of that era. Then he and his wife were told their child-on-the-way was a little girl. That changed everything. From that moment, he decided he would honor his unborn daughter with a pink truck emblazoned with her name.

"You can hear it coming from a far piece," says one of Mason Sickels associates on his farm."The exhaust system is what you see, hooked up to a split manifold." To the non-mechanically inclined, that means there are no pesky mufflers to impede the engine's roar.

A family tradition

Mason is continuing a farming operation originated by his great grandfather and subsequently carried on by his grandfather and father. He likes to restore old stuff. “I come by it naturally,” Sickel says. “My grandfather was a junk supreme junk collector.” Sickel then told me about one of his storage buildings that was full of stuff. He asked me to follow him to see for myself. I trailed behind his ancient doorless IHC Scout until we arrived at “the place.” He opened the door. I did not know what to expect, but should have suspected, given my experience with the truck. The building was full of pristine condition restored antique farm tractors. John Deere, Farmall, Minneapolis-Moline and Allis-Chalmers to mention a few.

Mason Sickel smiles beside his showroom new antique Farmall tractor. It is restored to perfection and is typical of the Sickel collection. The tractor is showing a bit of storage dust in this picture, but a quick hosing and wipe down will make it shine like new money.

Mason says he will show several of his tractors and some other restored vehicles and equipment at the 33rd Annual Grand Prairie Rice Festival in Hazen, Arkansas October 24, 2009. The family-oriented event includes a parade and show of antique farm equipment, an inflatable playground for kids, bands and other entertainment. And it’s free. Mark your calendars. I bade Mason farewell and headed into the sunset so to speak. It is indeed refreshing to meet congenial people like Mason. He had never seen or heard tell of me and treated me “like comp’ny.” Thanks Mason.

A couple of weeks later,

I was through the territory again. Heading home, close to England, Arkansas, I encountered a couple of respectable thunderstorms. Thunderstorms fascinate a lot of folks and I am one of those. These put on a good show.

This is storm one, taking shape. Sometimes the clound dipping toward the horizon can form into something more serious, but not this time

I followed the storm traveling east to west for several miles until I out ran it. There was another one ahead with a bit more oomph.

A few miles further west, storm one had begun to consolidate. This time a rice field is in the foreground. As fascinating as these storms are, it's a good idea to give them some distance.

I turned south for home and another storm running east to west was bearing down on me. Fortunately, the storm would do nothing worse than pelt the truck with some major league rain drops.

Storm two. We were on a collision course, but a pounding rain was the worst this storm could generate. A rice field is in the foreground. Just a few minutes after this shot, the truck got a good soaking.

Thanks for dropping by,

Joe Dempsey
Weekly Grist for the “Eyes and Mind
http://www.joedempseyphoto.com
http://www.joedempseycommunications.com
http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html

A tale of two bridges

The unexpected, towers from the abandoned rail bridge next to the highway bridge, shot through the windshield, on a long zoom which tends to bring the towers closer together.

As you first cross the U.S. Highway 70 bridge just north of DeValls Bluff, Arkansas you are taken aback by the sight of two drawbridge towers left over from a bygone era. The towers are part of the former Cotton Belt Railroad bridge over the White River next door to the highway bridge. The old bridge was taken out of service in 1982. A DeValls businessman bought the bridge for $1.00 and still owns it.

This story got its start on the Photo of the Week page at Corndancer dot com. Click here to see more pictures of the bridge(s) and get in on the start of the story, a very cool thing to do.

Fortunately there is a road leading through a small riverbank community of houses on stilts which goes nearly to the foot of the old bridge. After that, it is simply a matter of inching down a steep riverbank reinforced with rip-rap to get the correct position for a low-angle shot. It is a slow, deliberate traipse over impending disaster with a tripod, camera and a couple of lenses.

From the riverbank, the old bridge is massive and impressive. Since the river is very low now, I was able to set up much lower in the river bed that I would under normal conditions. This accentuates the wide angle perspective. Considering its age, the old bridge is holding up well.

Turns out the real menace was a small strip of slick mud close to the water which put me on my duff near the water’s edge. Nothing was hurt but my feelings and I did get  a closer look at the ‘coon tracks left over from last nights coon supper. The view from the banks was worth the trouble. From where I was, I decided I wanted get closer to the old bridge. And that I did.

Looking down the bore, so to speak, after a climb up a homemade ladder. At the upper left, the extensions from the bridge held railroad signal lights. Telephone and telegraph wires were strung across the right side. The gravel pile in the foreground was dumped there to discourage wheeled interlopers from the entering the abandoned bridge. You can see the bottom half of the north lifting mechanism counterweight in the middle of the bridge.

After a short stomp through some low weeds in a small stand of trees, I found the north end of the old bridge. It terminated as a wall. Lo and behold, there was a ladder (homemade and old, but sturdy), leaning against the wall. I’m guessing the wall and ladder are in the 16′ foot range in height. With a mite of trepidation, I climbed the ladder, stepping over one rung which appeared not capable of holding my weight.

Questioning my presence

After I arrived at the top, I was no longer in the convenient defilade afforded by the underbrush below. I was on the old bridge and in plain view. bigger’n Dallas. I said to my self, self, before you finish shooting up here, someone is going to arrive on the scene and question your presence. My prognostications were correct. I completed my shots and was tearing down equipment and preparing to descend, when I heard a four-wheeler engine approaching. Company was arriving.

No harm intended or perpetrated

In a few minutes, as I was about to start my descent, a young man toting a .22 rifle appeared at the bottom of the bridge and asked if I had encountered any red wasps on the bridge. I allowed as how I hadn’t, but I did take a number of pictures. He was a polite man and we engaged in a conversation. He became convinced that my intentions were honorable and that I had done no harm to the bridge. Concurrently, I became convinced that he would do no harm to me. Turns out he lives nearby and keeps an eye on the bridge for his friend the owner. He was doing his due diligence and had no idea what to expect. The bridge is normally festooned with “Posted” signs which were obliterated in a spring flood and never replaced. To me, that means open season. He was satisfied. I was satisfied. And I got the shots. All’s well that ends well.

Paul Hofstad, DeValls Bluff, Arkansas

This trip to DeValls Bluff was the second one in as many days. The day before, I took the shot at the top of the page and afterward, decided that it was foolish to drive and shoot simultaneously,  and harbor any expectations of a lengthy life.

To solve the problem, I garnered the services of a young man by the name of Paul Hofstad. I suggested that if he would allow me in the bed of his pickup and he ferried me across the highway bridge as I shot, he would have an extra ten bucks on Saturday night. The deal was struck and the picture is below.  Paul is a student at Phillips Community College. He is nearly finished with his course of studies  in wildlife management which he hopes will culminate in a job with the federal wildlife service. Thanks and good luck Paul.

Shot from the bed of Paul Hofstad's red Ford pickup.

“And now, as the sun slowly sinks in the west,” we are pleased to present the next entry in our continuing display of Joe Webb’s magnificent collection of signs. This time, dig the old, old, er … ancient,  Pepsi logo.

The sho' nuff old, old, old, er ... ah, ancient Pepsi logotype

Thanks for dropping by,

Joe Dempsey

http://joedempseyphoto.com/

http://www.joedempseycommunications.com/

http://www.corndancer.com/joephoto/photohome.html