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.