The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Smoky Valley has some overlap with the Ozarks. There are junk cars, meth addicts, barking dogs, horses and mules, gunshots, rivers that flood regularly, people hostile to outsiders, yards that look like a bomb exploded inside the house and spread the contents all over the yard, and —well you get the idea. There is staggering natural beauty in both places too, and warm welcomes, and the kind of ease that comes with clement weather and not having to work all that hard.
I have not figured out why I feel at home in such places. Did the Ozarks come first or Smoky Valley? I lived in the Ozarks when I was a kid, but in a university town. Then was drawn to Kauai. Now both places feel like home.
People keep sending me this link to a photo essay about men of the Ozarks, but I guess I'm going to have to reup my subscription to the Washington Post to actually see it. Unless I can read it from this link.
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| There are like three of these junk cars next to the swinging bridge. I guess they crossed the river one too many times. |
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