LaBarque Creek Now, and Back Then

The photo with blue sky and snow was taken in January 2012, the other in March 2016. (It's the same leaning sycamore tree in both pictures.) The December 2015 flash flood here was like a flood of sand, creating new white sand "beaches" on the property, the result of gushing water, erosion and trees weakened and downed by invasive honeysuckle. Here's a brand-new "beach": Looks appealing, but where you see sand there once was water. I climbed a cliff to to get a bird's-eye view of just how far the flood carried sand over the creek banks and into the woods: When I first moved here in 1998 lavish white sand beaches lined the side of the creek where there aren't any now, and the water was deep enough to catch little sunfish. In 2001 and 2008 beavers built enormous dams just beyond the creek bend, and chewed down numerous nearby trees, destabilizing the creek bank on the near side; the flood of '08 destroyed the most magnificent beaver dam and greatest swimming hole I have ever seen. Beaver dam again in 2012. The current flood of sand means the creek is one foot deep. I never worry. Living here has taught me is that worry is all in the mind and utterly useless.

On the White Sand Beach

LaBarque Creek has beaches of pure white silica sand; I sunned myself on one yesterday, the first day of spring, and gave thanks, and watched crayfish in the creek water: Their presence indicates that the water is pure. Wanted to catch one and take its photo for you, but last time I grabbed one the creature pinched my palm (ow! like a needle!) and I dropped it into the water pronto. The creek water is low, leaving several sand bars and small islands, so I said, "There's something interesting on this beach; I'll find it," and leaped the creek back and forth hunting fossils until I came upon this prehistoric-looking creature, an armadillo, the first I've seen this year. They dwell near water, needing a lot of water to drink, and a predator likely caught it off guard and attacked, but found it wasn't able to get at any meat, so left it whole, and it was quite fresh. Always I remember my dictionary saying, in words of one syllable, "Their flesh is good food." Probably because they drink lots of water. I was sorry it had lost its life, but could approach it now without disturbing it (or risking a pinch) to be fascinated by his armor's artful design. They have become common here only in the last ten years.

Tracks by the Creek

Whose tracks are these in the white silica sand by the creek? Hint: It's a bird people traditionally like eating today. But these birds are running free and wild on the Divine property, thanks be.

Who Goes There?

I took a beautiful Sunday slog down LaBarque creek when the water was low, and along the creek edges and wet sand bars I saw evidence of wildlife traffic, come to the creek for a drink. Traces of ice were in the water that had been left in shadow; I broke it up like plate glass and pushed it downstream so more creatures could come to the creek edge and drink. What we have here  is raccoon tracks stylized in wet sand and a three-toed footprint of a very large and heavy bird (each toe the length of my ring finger). Wondered what it was -- the LaBarque hosts herons and egrets,  but it looks most like the track of a turkey. If it had been a heron the footprint would have had a less splayed, more slender profile and have a lighter fourth toeprint in back. So it could be an egret, but the fact is we've got more turkeys. Actually we are fortunate to have plenty of both.

Seven Divine Waterfalls: Video Tour

The Divine property of 100 acres has seven dramatic waterfalls especially active in spring and visible to the world only in this 4-minute video I made, wanting to share them. They're on private land so here's your chance to see and hear them. They are all different and numbered in order of discovery. Narration by Divine Bunbun, who hung from trees and got all drenched and muddy enjoying every moment of filming.

Christmas in Pacific, MO

Those huge bluffs that to this day get mined for silica have big holes in them, one of them just right for a life-sized Nativity scene. To its right is a Christmas tree and some lighting equipment and wiring for nighttime display. Now, who says there's no art and culture around here?

Backwoods Beachfront

You wouldn't know by looking, but this house was once a beachfront house, and it's sitting on a fortune.

Aeons ago a shallow lake covered the Midwest, and of course it had a beach. Its sand got weathered by wind, not water. The result was a vein of 99 percent pure white St. Peters silica sandstone, five miles wide, running from Minnesota down to to Missouri. My house perches right on it.

The cliff got detonated for road widening in 2002. Where it's been in the open air for some years, oxidation and water has turned the sandstone gray or red. Not far away there's a silica mine. In 50-lb. bags the old beachfront goes to make glass, chinaware, white paint, municipal water filters, and, coarse-ground, it's sold to make sand traps on golf courses. I like it just the way millions of years have left it.