A verse in
an old song reads, ‘My Uncle Mort,
he’s sawed off and short…He measures about four foot two…But he thinks he’s a
giant when you give him a pint…Of that good ole mountain dew.’
You will
hear that refrain and the whole song, “Mountain Dew” many times, when you visit
our recent destination of Mountain View, AR.
This is one of my favorite places to visit. There is always un-electrified (if there is such
a word) music playing each evening most anywhere you go down by the town
square. It is a favorite place to hang
and just listen to the various musicians and singers.
Now David
and Sophie are good sports but I did not know if this would be their ‘cup of tea.’ I even offered them the ‘out’ so they could
distance themselves from the action if they chose to do so by letting them know
I would not ever ‘press’ my likes on anyone.
David reassured me they had not visited before so they wanted to
participate in the experience. So upon
arriving, we made our way down to the square Thursday evening to begin our initial
Mountain View experience. Our first stop
was the ice cream store. I decided I
needed to get them all ‘likkered’ up with some ice cream. Then we moseyed into the general area of the
picking grounds to take our positions at one of the picking sheds.
Now Bibi was
not with us having made a hasty trip back to Longview to take care of some
pressing issues. She texted me that
evening while at the picking grounds to see how David and Sophie were reacting
to ‘my kind of music.’ We had been there
for approximately an hour and I texted back my response, “well, they haven’t
thrown up yet. I take that as a good
sign.” In fact, after I told them of my
spouse’s concern for their welfare and well-being, they both told me they were
enjoying the evening.
Of course,
part of the entertainment is not just the music but the characters and actions
of the characters found in and around the picking groups. They particularly enjoyed a singer that had a
very rousing RV song rendition. They
gravitated to another group where they found mostly dulcimers, a hammered
dulcimer, a couple of guitars and autoharps.
They really enjoyed one particular fellow that seemed to be the ‘glue’
holding this group of players together, especially when he had to show another
autoharp player how a song goes.
The next day
we had a rain shower that cooled temps and made for a much cooler stay. We did not go to the square on Friday. One of the reasons for going to Mountain View
this particular Labor Day weekend was the presence of Doyle Dykes who was there
as part of the tribute at the Ozark Folk Life Center to Grandpa Jones. If you have never heard of Doyle Dykes, then
you are not alone. Check him out on the
web or better yet, go catch a live performance if he is ever anywhere near you. He is a remarkable guitar talent, Christian
and has a super story about his daughter and a white rose. I was very glad that David got to hear him
play Friday night. He would agree with
me, that if you could not see the stage, then you would think there are at
least two or three players on stage playing but instead it is only one man
making all those notes come from one guitar.
We explored
around Mountain View the next day and visited some shops like the McSpadden
Dulcimer shop and the Life is Good shop down on main street. We had a terrific lunch buffet at the Skillet
Restaurant adjacent to the Folk Life Center.
I had Bibi’s dulcimer fitted with a 1-1/2 fret at the Dulcimer
shop. Then Saturday night we visited the
town square again for some more music. I
was not disappointed with the turnout.
This being Labor Day weekend, the crowd was out in force and as usual
more people showed up after dark. Bibi
rejoined us the next day so Sunday evening was another town square event after
having a marvelous catfish lunch at JoJo’s Restaurant on the White River. As Grandpa Jones used to say, “Yum, Yum!”
We even saw a right handed fiddle player missing most of the fingers on his left hand. He had a partial little finger and some of the first finger but only nubs for his ring and middle finger. Boy howdy, he could still make that fiddle sing. A guy walked up to the group after they finished one of the songs and announced in a loud voice, 'I can play a fiddle better than that and I don't have any fingers at all on my left hand.' When the fiddle player saw it was an old friend, a big ha-ha was had by all as this turned out to be a joke and good-natured poke.
While we
were away, my son-in-law Kevin and daughter Kristi were drafted to mow my yard
for me in our absence. They had an
interesting encounter with some yellow jackets.
In fact, Kevin was chased completely across the road after several
painful stings. It seems the jackets
have setup housekeeping in a hole in the ground under the privacy fence between
my neighbor and our yard. The kids were
extremely pleased when I told them to mow around and not to mow next to the
fence so they could avoid these little flying demons. While Bibi was home she talked to the
neighbor about these creatures and he promised to look into it.
Labor Day evening, we noticed the square was not where the action was but instead it was located in the RV campground meeting hall where approximately 20 musicians showed up to play. Most of these folks played the dulcimer but there was a scattering of different type instruments in attendance too. The group was rather varied with different levels of skill and talent. So we spent the evening with this group before retiring for the night.
They say all
good things must come to an end. So we
sent David and Sophie on their way back to Bull Shoals State Park and the river
while we made our way back to Longview the next day.
What I did not know was that some good things come to an end with a bang
or in this case with a buzz.
Upon
arriving home, we find the yellow jackets are still protecting their nest and
the neighbor has not done anything to alleviate the problem. So we set about to solve this problem before
getting stung ourselves. After
researching and procuring the appropriate spray (according to the can the
contents will kill the queen and destroy the nest), we developed a strategy to
take care of the situation.
Late one
evening, well after sundown, we get dressed in our long pants, long sleeve shirts
and hats ready for battle with this flying menace. For you see, we have found out that nighttime
is the time to catch them all in the nest, according to the so-called
experts. Bibi has also covered the end
of the flashlight with a red plastic covering, again according to the so-called
experts, yellow jackets cannot see using the red light. As a side note, neither can Gran see anything
using a red covered flashlight which I will comment on in more detail later.
We,
appropriately dressed for battle, have now begun our stealthy approach towards
the target. What we do know from the
so-called experts are that yellow jackets are very aggressive and protective
when it comes to the nest so you must approach at night (time of least activity)
and with your red light along with your spray to eliminate the threat. As we approach the target, we see multiple
flying demons and knock them down with the stream wasp spray we brought with
us. This supply is quickly exhausted,
but undeterred we proceed with our plan to inundate the nest with a foaming
spray designed to fill all voids of the nest with expanding foam poison that
promises to eliminate everyone inside.
Since most
of this is done with a red plastic covered flashlight, my vision is severely
impaired. As I am struggling with
loading the nest with expanding foam poison, I feel an intense searing pain on
my right leg. Lo and behold, I have been
standing in a fire ant mound when all of a sudden they released the attack
signal to bite me unmercifully. Yanking
the red plastic covering from the flashlight, I am horrified to see the flames
jumping from my lower leg as the ants continue their attack on my leg. After doing my bouncing, hand swiping to get
rid of the biting ants from my leg dance, we retire to the relative safety of
our living room, basking in the knowledge that we have met the enemy and in
spite of the many obstacles they are ours.
It is now the next day. Yep, you guessed it. Imagine my horror the next morning when I went back to the battleground only to see a reinforced colony of yellow jackets and their allies the fire ants. We have yet to get rid of them. I am thinking of dousing the fence where the nest is located with gasoline and setting it on fire to cook them. Only my bride is holding me back and the fact that my neighbor built the fence and not me. Oh well, maybe I should find another place to go for an adventure until the cold weather removes the threat for me.
