I think that the Ozarks are always pretty because the hills and miniature mountains have so much foliage and trees, wildflowers in the summer and one could go on and on.
The real show, however, is in the fall. There are some trite phrases like “a patchwork quilt; some words try to describe the display as lovely, colorful, but none of them do the trick.
I was so upset this morning because I had forgotten my camera. Today was what the weathermen call the peak of the color before the hard freeze and the heavy rain. Those two things destroy the beauty and strip the majority of the trees to bare branches or just the remaining “stick tights” to brown ugly sparse reminders of what used to be. The approaching winter months go through our minds when we see those leaves. I told Fran there were no words to describe this miracle right before us. I just wanted to put my arms around the trees and smell the color and touch the color and use all my senses instead of just looking at it.
When I got home from the errands I had run, I went home got my camera and drove through the division we live in and down to the lake. The whole trip did not take up a mile. Fran and I are very fortunate to live so close to a beautiful lake, fishing for him and daydreaming for me.
I forgot to caption the pictures for you. I will start with the bottom picture being our front yard, then the next one will be the yard of one of our friends with the red bushes. From there I turned down a gravel road and thought that someday I hope there will be an artist to catch the glory of this old abandoned farm with the windmills. The road to the lake was very pretty, but when I got to the launching pad, I took a picture for you of our island and dam . The final picture is of the wild grasses and gorgeous trees waving goodbye to me, because I probably won’t see them again until next fall.
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