color the goose

 Some of you may remember going through this before. But it's time to paint the Goose. I don't want to mimic the distinguished coloration of the cafe across the street. I would appear part of the Christian development.
  It seems a shame not to use this opportunity to change colors. Black has been suggested, but I suspect I'd be burned for a witch. I refuse to consider gray, because depressing. Coral and orange have been suggested.
   And still I like pink. Not too pink, or as Dugan says, "You'll attract every cowboy for miles around." I can't remember what I used before, and anyway the names change. Was it Cake Pop? Gentle Embrace? And the colors look different in every light and on every surface. Also I am NOT painting that plastic screen door, and I don't much like pink and white
   Still open to suggestions. Somewhat.
The cafe will now NOT be opening that soon as their well has faikled to pass inspection. They will have to put in a new one.


there goes the neighborhood

This print was made from a found negative by Bill Dugan. The cafe is on the left. The Goose is on the right, when it still had an extra room on top of the canopy. This is the old bridge, the one that existed when I first visited Thomasville some 20 years ago, shown around by Ann and Bill Dugan.
I took this picture today. The cafe's profile is much the same, while the Goose has lost its second floor bedroom and gained glass block, thanks to Chris Garrison and a deck.

This is the new interior of the cafe. I wish I had an old one for comparison, but trust me, aside from the ceiling the feeling is entirely different. As in upscale. Some of the people around here are worried they will no longer be able to afford to eat here. There is even a portable stage for those upcoming big events.

So hmm. From the POV of the soon-to-be room for let, the Goose looks pretty shabby. Not as bad as the bombed-out place next door to me owned by Randy and Virginia (the girls of T'ville are eager to buy it, but it's not for sale), but not that great.
  Which brings me to my next question. If I paint the Goose should it remain pink?


the slab

 I am not willing to take the road over the slab as yet—too much water. I saw somebody go across in what looked like a sorry-ass humvee. But I can't resist going to put my feet in the water and listen to it rush and watch the minnows. It's just too great. And then there's the road to and fro, a never-failing delight.


the winner is. . .

The Yellow Table!
Thanks to all who voted. The yellow table won by a landslide, and the aviator's table has been banished to the upstairs for use as a desk, per Dianne's suggestion. It's her yellow table after all.


no flash floods

Looking downstream on the Eleven Point
 Two rivers run under the bridge next to the Goose, the Eleven Point and the Middle Fork. They meet just downstream. After four inches of rain in torrential storms yesterday, I'm amazed that, unlike some people nearby, I have power, but more amazed that the rivers stayed pretty much within their banks. It makes those of us who still live in Thomasville—and there aren't that  many—nervous to have a flash flood warning. But today is beautiful, and the rivers, while murky, are nowhere near flooding.
Looking downstream on the muddy Middle Fork

Looking upstream on the Eleven Point. The cafe is on the right, and Bill's is on the right hidden by trees.
To refresh your memory, here is what the river is like when in flood.


animal pictures are always winners

 Roy, or Roy Boy, is getting old. He used to be rather fierce, but he would prefer to lie in the sun now. He may be too lazy these days to go down to the pond and get wet and stinky. We'll see. The weather is meant to be 90s now for a while, with violent thunderstorms.
   And speaking of weather, here is Russell's report on the jamup on Mt. Everest this season. It's incredibly interesting and well thought out. I wish somebody like National Geographic would publish it along with his treatise on the yaks.
    Donna Ferrato had a show of some of the work in her forthcoming Holy, which was covered in the Guardian. It popped up on Debby's news feed.
   Weather in Block Island has been miserable—some tenants left a day early! Erin was No. 8 in the standby line to get over as of 7 ayem in the pouring rain.
   I have a clog in the line to the septic, so all drains are bubbling. I knew I should have married a plumber. I am still painting. Hope to finish painting (or, as I like to think of it, disturbing spiders) the  downstairs front wall today. Gotta be camera ready by the big T'ville celebration on the Fourth!
One of the feral cats that lives at the Yellow House.


big doings in t'ville

View of the cafe and prospective pavilion from my deck. Bear has to move his trailer.
The sign went up yesterday. River Resorts is opening the R&R Restaurant and Lodge. There will be souvenirs and T-shirts, kayak rentals and rooms to let. The owners have traded Bear what was left of his place after the flood—a concrete pad—for five acres of land uphill. The concrete pad directly across the street from me will become a picnic pavilion! The building behind it, which used to be Tom's house before the flood, and a church before that, will become a wedding chapel! With a honeymoon suite! The gas station down the street will be recreated into a rustic bunkhouse for hikers and floaters.
   I know all this because I invited Judy to visit me yesterday. She appears to be the executive director, and PR person for a board of local (wealthy) women who have decided to revive Thomasville on their own. Judy and her husband are associate pastors of His Place House of Worship. She used to work for the county's family court, but God told her to take on this mission in Thomasville. She is rediscovering its history, and thinks God may have led her to me, a writer, to record this. She believes that God certainly had a hand in resettling me here after the flood. Reason: To Be Determined.
    Well, God knows, I want to see Thomasville revived.  When I turn out the lights at night, there's nothing to be seen but streetlights around me. Whether I want an actual revival across the street from me, I don't know. Do these people not understand the biblical or environmental implications of the Great Thomasville Flood of 2017?
    But they have hired decorators and restaurateurs and builders and cleaners and carpenters and are aiming for a "soft opening" on July 4 for a weekend of T'ville activities including bands and fireworks and probably fried pies and barrel racing and rodeo. They have health department certification for the well and restaurant. Bless them!

The forthcoming wedding chapel and honeymoon suite. With new steeple.

Once River's Edge Cafe, then Eleven Point Cafe, and now new name.



My sister, Erin, and her husband, Flip, watched Eva walk a couple weeks ago.

Julia walks in Block Island. I missed it.
 On Sunday, my last niece graduated from high school. Red gowns seem to be the color of choice this year, and as I watched the parade of graduates in Holliston, Massachussetts, I couldn't but think that with different weird headgear they would look like something out of the Handmaid's Tale.
     I hope that doesn't come to pass, though sometimes I am feeling like it already has. I am sorry for the young women of now. So young. So beautiful. So embattled.
   We'll see what happens  by the time they graduate from college.


please vote!

Yellow table original occupant. Aviator table attractive interloper.

Original wall.
 Here we are. I have one table too many. Which should stay?
    The room is small, like 16 x 22 with a bite out of it for the bathroom. And my entertainments tend to be for no more than six people.
   Vote for the yellow table! Diner style '50s!
   Vote for the aviator table! Designer, industrial!
    I couldn't let them put that airplane wing table in the dumpster, right? So I trucked it from New York. Now I'm unsure. Vote your preference today!
    Meanwhile, it was pretty clear that the wall behind said tables had to be painted. "You're always painting!" somebody said. Well, yes, and I never get very far. I hate it. So now I have one more half wall and the bathroom to go downstairs. And the floor needs a second coat, though it's too damn damp to do now.
I don't know if I'll ever get to that wall above the staircase.

The kitchen with new Cott sign form Barbara covering the fuse box. Styled with flyswatter.


mini road trip

 OK, is that a jigsaw puzzle or a real place?
    It was too nice yesterday to stay inside writing and painting walls, which is what I had planned, so my excursion companions and I decided to jaunter off to a trout farm and fishing and dining place at the site of an old mill. I ate, um, trout and also trout. And then we stopped at another old mill. And then we went back home. Why, even after touring beautiful places do I always believe that the most beautiful is home? Must be some kind of pathology.


ozark entertainments

 I am in arrears, blogwise. I don't know how far back to start, so I'll just do the most recent entertainments. The possum I considered breaking news.
 The first day I was here, I was hosted by the Art Crowd, printmaker/painter/sculptor Bill Dugan and his inamorata, whose name really is Carla Sparks. The next day, it was the Literary Crowd in the persons of Frank and Dianne Martin, novelist Katie Estill and our notable local country noir Dan (Winter's Bone) Woodrell. Plus the Art Crowd. Yes, we mix here. Our hosts, Judge emeritus David Dunlap and his inamorata, activist Alison Ball (her real name) provided a gourmet spread, as always paired with superb wines.
 The next day I repaid Alison and David's hospitality with a picnic at the slab: olive loaf sandwiches on Wonder bread and potato chips. I think it was the first time I've eaten Wonder bread in about 50 years, but it just seemed right. I believe it was likely the first time it was paired with the whatever it was wine they were drinking, but I'm damn sure it was the first time a wine glass made an appearance at the slab.


what's in the truck?

Yes, that's a possum. Dianne caught it in a trap in her barn. I had been wishing for a possum—they are known to eat thousands of ticks—so Dianne offered me hers. I met her at the hayfield to pick it up, popped it in the truck with my giant $7 fern (and cooler, of course) and drove back to the Goose. I put out some food and water, let it loose and it waddled off into the bushes without eating, eager to get away. I hope it thrives. Looked like a pregnant she to me.


town report

Carla and Bill have mostly finished the rebuild of their river cabin post flood. And last year's new town dog, bloodhound Maggie, looks fat and sassy.

Bear has deposited a a camper on the concrete pad where his house used to be, but there have been no sightings as yet. The corner of the cafe building, which used to be the bank, safe and all, appears to have been renovated into an air bnb type scene (below). The cafe is spiffed up, but no word on when it may open for business.

The road to Thomasville. There is a lot of space in this country.



Woke up to an Ozarks morning. ie, logging trucks rolling by at 5 ayem. Got a head start on cleanup (put the umbrella and deck furniture out!) (took a shower!) and then became dismayed about all that needs to be done. Not the least of which is how to unload the truck without being able to undo the comealong straps. Ah well.
   The entertainments begin today, but fortunately my guests, who are moving back into their cabin in Thomasville,  are bringing lunch.



It was Eat 'n' Park and Get 'n' Go, and Grab 'n' Go and Kum 'n' Go and, yes Hot 'n' Ready (pizza). I lost count of dead deer, but did avoid killing five turtles crossing the road. Crossed the Mississippi where the boats floated at the feet of the arch, and wiggled down though the hills to the Goose. Where, naturally, it was pouring. Everything is in disarray. Fortunately Randy turned on the water and Virginia dealt with the bugs. I will deal with the rest. Tomorrow.


motel 6, baby

Road trip! Left 98 RSD at 10 ayem. There were 12 dead deer on the road to Dayton. Practically the entire state of Pennsylvania smelled like shit, I mean manure. The fields were freshly plowed or green. It was beautiful. The truckdrivers were pretty nice. There were bursts of rain.  The traffic wasn't bad, though there was a lot of construction.
   And I may never eat a Frito again. Thank you.
   I strapped the food in so well I can't get to it.

a fine day in NYC

An afternoon spent on Amsterdam, collecting friends who passed on the street and eating some last poke before heading to the midwest. This is Wednesday.
   I am about to load up and split. Ohio here I come!


prepped, phew

 Today was the last day, and I finished getting the last room—namely mine—ready. After three tries with tightening things and changing washers, I wound up having to get a new faucet, or tub filler, as it seems to be called. To install it, the side of the tub surround my bro made had to be taken apart, the rim sawed off and the side removed. But finally, the faucet replaced, it was done, nailed, polyurethaned and dried. The mattress pads replaced, new pillow protectors. The truck packed, this ayem off to the ferry for the last time til September.
  I am now in Providence. Phew.