The Chores Could Wait
- Snarky Solar Guy
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
Not long ago, I hosted a friend from Massachusetts here at the river for a few days. He got a taste of Southern hospitality, and before long, I was headed to Missouri to experience a small part of the Ozarks.
I drove up to Eminence to visit a friend I met here on the Little Red River last year. We exchanged numbers and stayed in touch. He invited me several times to come hunting or just hang out, but I finally took him up on the offer when he told me about an annual shindig his brother hosts up in Eminence.
I debated going. It's only about three hours away, but the weather is finally warming up, which means the river starts demanding attention. Grass needs cutting. Things need fixing. Projects multiply when you're not looking. Still, the chores weren't going anywhere, and the opportunity to experience a genuine Ozark redneck gathering was too good to pass up.
I stayed at a bed-and-breakfast that didn't serve breakfast. The town itself is a tourist destination built around rivers, kayaking, canoeing, and outdoor recreation. Two rivers converge near Eminence, so there is no shortage of water-related activities. The whole town smelled faintly of sunscreen and barbecue smoke.
On Saturday, I joined about twenty people for a forty-mile side-by-side ride through the hills. There were eight vehicles in the caravan, and I learned those things apparently cost as much as a decent car. We tackled some surprisingly technical trails, took in some beautiful backwoods scenery, and stopped periodically for homemade deer sausage and a few cold beers.
Then came one of those moments that reminds you how small the world really is.
I ran into two people I went to high school with in Greenbrier, Arkansas. In 1987. They've been married ever since and now have fifteen grandchildren. That completely blew me away. I told them the story of when I met another GBHS classmate in 1991- in Hong Kong at the China Harbor Fleet Club. But that is a story for another time.
I visited an old flour mill dating back to the mid-1800s, fed by what is probably the second most beautiful spring I've ever seen. The spring pumps roughly 81 million gallons of crystal-clear water every day.
Later, I hiked down to Blue Spring and saw what is easily the bluest spring water I've ever laid eyes on. The water was so clear you could see at least fifty feet down into the spring. Pictures don't really do it justice. If you're ever in the area, it's worth the trip.
The main event, though, was a concert by a local band called Iron Cowboy.
The venue was the backyard of one of the singers. The audience was mostly friends, family, and locals gathered to celebrate Junior's birthday. Junior is one of the founding members of the band and the host of the annual gathering, which drew about eighty people.
Before the music started, there was a blessing over the food. There had to be enough barbecue there to feed a small Imperial battalion on Endor, including three fifteen-pound briskets that were among the best I've ever eaten.
When Junior started singing "Folsom Prison Blues," I had to do a double-take. He sounded just like Johnny Cash. Judge for yourself:
The band mostly played classic country and western covers, and their lead guitar player was incredible. He looked like he had just crawled out of the woods, thrown on a clean shirt, sort of combed his beard, and then proceeded to absolutely shred.
What struck me most wasn't the scenery, the food, or even the music. I only knew three people when I arrived. By Sunday morning, sitting around a breakfast table loaded with deep-fried bacon, hash browns, farm-fresh eggs, biscuits, and enough gravy to qualify as its own food group, I felt like I'd known these folks for years.
That's becoming one of my favorite things about living in this part of the country. People still invite you in. They still introduce you to their friends. They still pull up an extra chair at the table.
No solar. No batteries. No rapid shutdown debates. Just good people, good food, good music, and a hard-hitting reminder that sometimes the best weekends happen when you say yes to an invitation and stop worrying about the chores waiting for you at home.
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