Back to the (crystal) mines

So nice I did it twice

Yep, a big hole in the ground. We drove 5 hours to dig rocks.

Ever go somewhere and you know your friend would just love to see it, too? The minute I got back in the car from crystal hunting in June, I texted Joelle, and wrote, "We're driving up here. It's only 5 hours from Dallas."

Now to some of you, that sounds like a ridiculous statement, "only 5 hours," but you have to understand, Jo and I have STP running through our veins. Joelle's response was, "Sure! 5 hours is nothin'."

The plane tickets were already purchased. I was flying in to see my Gypsy Sister's new house in a couple of weeks, and we really had no plans other than hanging around Dallas. Who am I kidding? An entire weekend? We are incapable of staying in one place more than 24 hours. We packed the car with drinks, snacks, and trowels, then took off for Arkansas.

6:00 a.m. rush hour in Dallas

We decided to try a different mine than the one I visited in Mt. Ida, and chose Coleman Mines in Jessieville. Debra greeted us at the mine office, and we were all instant besties. The people in Arkansas are across-the-board friendly, sincere, and sweet. Debra gave us sacks, some helpful instruction, and wished us luck.

Unlike the mine in Mt. Ida, we could drive our car (and by "our" I mean Jo's) right to the mine site. We really appreciated this as it enabled us to mine longer. We could easily walk back to our car, take a lunch break and get out of the 100 degree sun for awhile.

Hat Ladies

Crystal mining is a bit of a Zen activity. We hiked through the site and each of us chose a nice big rock to sit on, then started sifting through the loose, red dirt for sparkling clues. It is calming to focus on the details. I would lift a trowel-full of soil with my right hand, and let it filter through the fingertips of my left. Some crystals are individual spires, and others are found in twinkling clusters. 

Joelle's treasures

We mined well into the afternoon, then Joelle prudently suggested we call it a day. Heat stroke is no fun. Happy and filthy, we returned to the car to take off for the next leg of our adventure.

Stories to tell and memories to treasure

Lake Ouachita, Arkansas. Thank you Lee for sharing this photo of our private swimming hole.

Any trip is much longer than the time spent door-to-door. Trips begin the day the idea pops into my head. It really is like a little spark. My imagination fuels the flames of a tiny inspiration, until, days, weeks, months – even years later, reservations are made, tickets are purchased, and bags are packed. 

Back home with Buddha. He seems to like the crystal cluster I brought him.

Then, each excursion is filled with the unexpected: meeting a fun stranger, being served an exceptionally good meal, or turning down a road to discover a nutmeg-colored crescent moon, floating above the treetops. 

On this trip, I'm trying something new – traveling with a stranger. Lee and I met for a few moments when he rented my house last year, and we've stayed in touch, commenting on facebook posts, dropping notes. We went from messaging to spending a week together in a car. We crossed state lines and stayed in a remote mountain cabin. And look! I'm here to tell the story. Lee did not turn out to be an axe-murderer; and I'm sure his family is equally as relieved to discover the same about me. 

Shooting a Mississippi traffic jam from the passenger seat

Lee likes to do all the driving. After watching his skill for a few miles, it doesn't seem like a bad idea to turn the wheel over to him. Riding in the passenger seat allows me to Google, Instagram, check my facebook, text, and take pictures til my hear's' content. Traveling with a stranger also provides the opportunity for storytelling. My captive audience had never heard any of my Swear-to-You True Tales.

Imagine my surprise, finding this on the internet, so many years later.

And so began the tale of Darryl and the calendar.

My Beloved Darryl owned White Rose Printing in York, PA. Every year, the company created a calendar to give customers. Each year, the calendar featured a different local artist. Now my sweet Darryl was a big ol' biker dude, a Marine, and Vietnam vet. He was also a great big softie who loved his 6 pound mutt and slept with that dog on his chest.

One day, traveling down the winding country roads, Darryl came across a puppy in the middle of the road. Just sitting there, on the double yellow line. It was a miracle this little thing had not been struck by a car.  Darryl pulled his bike over to the side of the road, got off, and scooped up that little pup. 

That year, the calendar artist, Daniel Vong, created an image depicting that story. Darryl was Mr. March.

True story. He's even wearing cowboy boots, just like Darryl.

So, of course I start googling away. Within moments I had located Daniel Vong and a website with his portfolio. Imagine how stunned I was to see the very image I had been talking about. Tears started sprouting from my eyes like a backyard sprinkler.

Thanks to Lee for listening to my stories and providing some all-American tales of is own: hurricanes, lost loves, convertibles and college-town parades. I returned Lee to his very stylish loft and began my own trip home.

And then I walked in the door. 

G had timed his visit to arrive at the house before me and left me a Welcome Home/Father's Day present. He's the best.

Special treats and a practical bonus.

I'm on the back porch now, feet propped up, reflecting on my trip and the parts I enjoyed most. Taking an impromptu dip in a warm, nearly uninhabited lake was a refreshing surprise. Meeting many interesting new people, even if only for a few moments is always a blessing. I brought home a few rocks and a new piece of pottery. Mostly, I brought home more memories to add to the book that is my spectacular life.

Imaginary Worlds

A magical evening

I travel a magical world.

With our crystal hunting expedition drawing to a close, it was time to deposit Lee back in Atlanta. We might have returned him home, but we certainly weren't back to reality.

Books made of living plants

Lee took me on a tour of his neighborhood, which includes the awe-inspiring Atlanta Botanical Gardens. We were fortunate enough to visit during their Imaginary Worlds exhibit of mosaiculture. A concept of 16th century Europe, these three dimensional living garden sculptures are breathtaking.

Even the sidewalks are a work of art. No detail has escaped the eye of the designers.

Sometimes you meet instant friends. 

To add to the magic of the evening, we had dinner in the garden cafe. As the cafe closes well after the park, we were able to roam about after everyone else had left for the day.

Alone with a Dale Chihuly

Greenhouses of every sort – tropical, orchid, high altitude, with hidden fountains and frogs.

Pegasus with his mane of wild grasses alights among the greenery.

Reflective of a designer's impeccable eye

Time to mine

Another day, another cabin.

Lee seems greatly concerned over my freewheeling choice of accommodation and has graciously arranged another completely enchanting place to lay our heads.

Yes, I even wear yoga pants to go mining.

Up early with morning coffee to sustain us for the day ahead. We are somewhere near Norman, Arkansas.

The spare tire is bigger than my dining room table.

We arrive at the mine office and hitch a 20-minute ride out to the mine site. Basically, we are sitting on the equivalent of a roller coaster seat, high atop a truck. Only there is no safety bar holding us in. 

 This is the smoothest part of the road, where I am actually able to take a photo. We ascend a winding path with ruts so deep they bounce us 2 feet up out of our seats. 

Proud member of The Hat Ladies of Charleston, even when getting muddy.

I admit to giggling mightily, having a blast, holding on for dear life. We are sharing the ride with a family from Texas. Mema, her son, daughter-in-law, and 2 grandchildren. They have researched this experience and come prepared with a rolling cart of drinks. Noting, none of them are Mojitos.

The mine site has been turned over for us to explore. It's as if a giant fork has been dragged through orange mashed potatoes.

Lee chooses his spot in the shade and works it for the duration of our stay that afternoon. I wander down the hill into waist-deep ravines. I've packed gloves and tools into the same purse I carried to dinner the night before. On this day, I am particularly thankful for my hot yoga practice. The family working the mine with us seem to be wilting rapidly. With only the occasional sip of water, I have incredible stamina. Bikram would be proud. 

Magnificent in their natural habitat, this cluster was sitting at the mine office.

A little soaking, a little cleaning.

These little beauties will become gifts and be scattered around the porch. What fun I had walking about the mine, waiting for each one to call out to me. 

On to Oxford

Our first destination on the way to the crystal mines, was Oxford, Mississippi. A city which humbly refers to itself as the Cultural Mecca of the South. If by cultural, they mean, we have 3 bookstores on one town square, then they are correct.

Home to writers, James Faulkner and John Grisham.

Beautiful carving inside of Square Books. Photo credit: Lee Barrineau.

An homage to their namesake.

Made with Mississippi mud

Lee surprised me by booking accommodations in this charming cabin, just outside of town, in Holly Springs National Forest. "I know you would sleep in the car by the side of the road, but I prefer a mattress."

Thank you Lee; the cabin was so restful.

Thank you Chamber of Commerce for this lovely shot. We enjoyed visiting your town.