Spring River Fish Stories

We spent two beautiful sun filled days on the banks of the Spring River in Northeast Arkansas. Tucker caught more fish than we could keep, and I had lots of time to read Journey of Souls. Jim spent most of his time on Saturday in the middle of the river fly fishing. It is beautiful to watch the rhythm of the fly fisher, and Jim has a perfect rhythm. On Sunday we went to the Mammoth Springs State Park which is where the Spring River begins.

Legend has it that many years ago this area was experiencing a severe drought. An Indian Chief sent out a scouting party, including his son, to try and locate some water. Before finding water, the Chief's son died. When the scouts began to dig a grave for him, water sprang forth from the ground and has continued to this day. Mammoth Springs was named after the brave Indian son who went looking for water to save his people. The spring naturally spews 9 million gallons of water an hour. And even though we could see the water bubbling, and falling, it was hard to fathom the amount of water coming forth that created this beautiful river that ran for miles and miles.

Jim and Tucker fished again on Sunday while I sat on the banks and continued reading my book. It was the perfect weekend and it was a Joy to spend time with Tucker and to focus only on his words, thoughts and actions.

And although I was "tested" a little this weekend, I think we all survived just fine. Tucker loves me very much and is VERY aware that I don't like to touch bugs, frogs or fish. However, on Saturday afternoon, with complete exasperation for my lack of "fishing skills" he told me "I need someone with me who it not afraid to touch slimy things!!" I explained to him that I had "assisted" him more than I normally would assist a fisher person. He told me that I just needed some practice. However, we were in luck when a few fishermen stopped by and helped Tucker when he was in dire need of assistance. In my heart, Joy is having friends and family, and even strangers, close by who will touch slimy things for my grandson so that I don't have to. For this I am eternally grateful. Joy is not touching slimy things.

Here's to the Journey!