Gainsville, Mo-Dennis and Jenny (Pop. 6)

We left my nephew’s place around 9:00 AM and headed north. Our drive wasn’t long today, but we wanted to stop in Branson, Missouri, to see what all the buzz was about.

Branson was only about 30 miles from Harrison, so we got there quickly. We stopped at a coffee shop to grab a drink and get a feel for the surrounding area. Having never been here before, I suspected it was mostly a tourist hotspot with the usual souvenir shops. We wandered through historic downtown, exploring a few streets lined with Branson-themed trinkets and crafts. We even stopped by the Missouri Amish store. The highlight of our visit, however, was the Transylvania Bakery. We bought several pastries from a man who seemed thoroughly unimpressed by our presence—he grunted, pointed to the cutlery and napkins, and made it clear he wasn’t there for friendly conversation. Thankfully, the pastries more than made up for the grumpy service.

After finishing up downtown, we parked near the lake. Dana went for a walk while I took a nap—no judgment, please!

From Branson, we had just 60 miles to my niece and her family’s place. They’ve lived in Alaska, Belize, and now the deep woods of the Ozarks. Each time, they bought wilderness land and carved out a home. So, we knew we were in for an adventure. Even the directions to their home were enlightening. As we reached the turnoff into what felt like the uttermost parts of the earth, the warnings about rough terrain and steep hills proved entirely accurate. A sharp downhill, then a steep uphill—then another. After the hills, we followed a winding road (a generous description) through the woods, around curves, and through mud puddles.

I texted Jenny to let her know we’d arrived at the turnoff, and she headed our way to ensure we stayed on track—I guess she didn’t trust us with directions! Approaching the mud puddles, I cautiously crossed each one, uncertain of their depth. At one point, I took it too slowly and got stuck in the mud. I honked at Jenny, who was already speeding ahead on her four-wheeler. I rocked the PLUM back and forth, feeling it advance slightly each time. By the fourth try, the back wheel finally grabbed some gravel, and we slowly emerged from the puddle. Unfortunately, the entire side of the vehicle was splattered with dark, muddy dirt. Dang it.

We arrived at a small clearing, and Jenny showed me where to park for the night. I found the most level spot and backed in. This clearing was the first place they had set up when they started the project a year ago. A 20-foot container served as their kitchen and storage space, and they had an outhouse for those special moments. They had also drilled a well for water. Jenny then led us down a lane to the house they were building. Before they could begin construction, the land had to be cleared of trees and rocks—mostly by hand, though they had a small backhoe and excavator to help. Last November, they finally moved into the basement of the house. Until then, they had been living in tents, and a camper.

We had a great time with them. For dinner, we enjoyed salmon and deer tacos. The tortillas were handmade by the girls, the salmon had been caught in Alaska, and the deer was hunted right on their land.

After an evening of conversation and sitting around the fire in the deep woods, we were ready for bed. Dennis handed us a flashlight, and we walked back up the lane to our “hotel” for the night. Our walk followed a lively discussion about snakes in the woods, bobcats in the neighborhood, and bears in the vicinity. When Dennis asked if we were scared, Dana said, "Yes." I said, "We’ll be fine." As we walked away alone, Dana clung to my arm as if she had been thrown over a bridge and was hanging on for dear life. Honestly, we both answered correctly—she was scared, and in the end we were fine.

Once we arrived, I asked Dana if she wanted to go back out and look at the stars. Her response? "Absolutely not!" We had a great day, but we were glad to be visiting—not staying.

It is compassion, the most gracious of virtues, which moves the world. UnknownRead more