My grandmother lived near here, my mother was born here in Arkansas, maybe it’s genetic, the familiar feel of the hardwood forests here, my Cherokee heritage, past memories that aren’t even mine that I feel here in the Arkansas winter. I went to Hot Springs today, the Hot Springs national park, and to the original Buckstaff bathhouse established in 1912. Turned out to be a truly amazing experience, from the old tiles to the antique plumbing, the huge porcelain tubs, the huge linen bath sheets that they wrap around you as you go from treatment to treatment.
It was really cold today, at least for what we expected in Arkansas, and gray all day. Maybe 45 degrees at best but really windy and damp. Cold.
Hot Springs is a magical space, at least the area around the actual hot springs was amazing. Old buildings that were once the heyday of the rich and famous coming for the water therapy that used to be considered so healing, even by the medical establishment.
John and Linda came in last night and we visited in the moho and then went to dinner at Chili’s and I had some truly tremendous ribs. It was a nice visit, and they drove back home after 9. He said he could do it, after all he was a truck driver. We talked a bit about trucking and Deanna and Keith and wondering how it all is going to go for them. We even managed to sit around and talk and visit in this tiny space with a modicum of comfort.
Mo was tired last night though, after driving in all that wind, and after “entertaining”. Today’s travels were a mere 138 miles from Van Buren to Hot Springs, and it still seemed like a long day. Mo didn’t partake of the baths, she isn’t susceptible to all that stuff the way I am. I’m so glad I didn’t miss it though.