Blue Ribbon Babes

Blue Ribbon Babes

It's that time of year, when county and state fairs take advantage of the cooler weather to prop up some rides, roast some dogs, drizzle powdered sugar on funnel cakes and put out their finest.

Just had to share this photo of two girls in a neighboring county who won Best of Show in the junior baking competitions. Both learned from their mamas, of course, and both mamas also won ribbons in the adult (or Senior) category.

Christah, left, beat out her mother's cookies. They grew a bumper crop of pumpkins and made everything from pumpkinsauce (instead of applesauce) to cookies, cakes and muffins. They "put up a whole lot." I always liked the term "put up." Mama said the easiest way to store the pumpkin was simply to freeze the pumpkin meat in large baggies.

Rachel, right, chose to make her favorite recipe, an old favorite found in nearly every church cookbook, Million Dollar Fudge. She loves all things chocolate she said. Gee, a girl after my own heart.

Try the following recipes to put you in the proper fall state of mind:

Pumpkin Drop Cookies

by Christah

Ingredients:

2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
¼ cup butter
½ teaspoon salt
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup pumpkin
¾ cup Crisco
Directions:

Mix dry ingredients in one bowl. Cream butter and Crisco together once creamed and add pumpkin and egg. Slowly add dry ingredients to wet. Drop by spoonfuls onto greased and floured cookie sheets. Bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes.


Mamie Eisenhower’s Million Dollar Fudge
submitted by Rachel
Ingredients:

4 ½ cups sugar
Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons butter
1 2/3 cups evaporated milk (1 tall cup)
12 ounces semisweet chocolate
12 ounces German’s sweet chocolate
1 pint (7 ounces jar) marshmallow crème
2 cups shopped nuts (optional)

Directions:

Combine sugar, salt, butter and milk in large heavy pan. Boil six minutes stirring occasionally. Pour boiling syrup over chocolate in a bowl. Beat until chocolate is melted. Stir in marshmallow crème and nuts. Pour into buttered 13x9x2-inch pan. Let cool several hours or until firm. Cut into squares and store in airtight container.

Art Church Rocks

There is an old church across the mountains In Hot Springs that has found a second life.

The church houses a wonderful family dedicated to keeping the integrity of the building and finding creative ways to fit into the ecclectic community.

As luck would have it, the two are artists. They, along with their teenage son, live in the main floor of the church, also know as the sanctuary where personal living space lies behind carved wooden doors. The pews have been pushed to the side, and the large main area is partly studio, partly gallery.

In the basement are the works of other artists, and the local sustainablity group uses the common area in the kitchen for the weekly pickup.

All that is exciting enough, but the Art Church opens its doors during the week for after-school programing and summer camps where kids get to do art! How cool is that! Especially when so many schools and communities have suffered cuts in funding.

We've known for a long time that our brains work better when we are engaged in creative outlets, and we all realize how important it is for children to have opportunites to shine. Kudos to the Art Church and all other endeavors working to promote a healthier - and more beautiful environment.

Father of the Year

Here you have my friend Harold who last year was voted the Father of the Year of Plainview, small town of 755 citizens, in Yell County. This is not a picture of all his children in the wagon. These kids represent a fraction of the youth he has mentored, sponsored and befriended in his tenure as the town's substitute dad. You see, Harold never had kids of his own. Nada. Never even been married. How's that for something to chew on?

Harold, who worked for years as a rodeo clown, is a cowboy and a retired lineman for the county. He dedicated his life to Christ some years ago and began his work with the wayward children of the small town nestled in the River Valley, hemmed in my Fourche Mountain and dwarfed by the shadow of Mt. Nebo.

Admirers of Harold, who nominated him for the award, brag on his agreeable nature. He's the babysitter when single moms are in a pinch.

We are lucky indeed to know folks with dedication like Harold. The youth are worth it.

Too Much Rain/ Too Much Dogs

The hometeam lost to the Georgia Bulldogs yesterday, 52-41, over there in Fayetteville. Bless thier big, meaty bones. More than 74,000 folks crowded the stands - the fifth largest attendance ever. Wasn't enough to get our boys a win though. Too bad, too. We've had a heck off a time getting into the groove in all ways down here.

Don't know how you are settin' where you are, but we are mostly drowning. We've had our share of rain plus some, and our agri-based state has felt at odds all summer and into the fall. This gentleman farmer can't get into the fields to cut the hay. Can't do nothin' he said. He went to the local cafe in Centerville, town of 400, for the biscuits and gravy breakfast and set out on the front porch greeting everyone as they came by, most in the same straits as him. Notice the spittoon for his Skoal?

Here' s hoping you find a comfortable place to perch when the waters get too high or the dogs bite too hard....

Master of the Grill at Oddly Named Festival

We love our meats grilled in the South, whether that be cow, rabbit, emu, deer, buffalo or chicken on the racks. Everything's just a whole lot better when it's been slow cooked over low burning coals. At least that's what Jesse Owens, extension agent, told me.

Jesse has been grilling for over 30 years at an annual festival in the southern part of the state to raise money for the local 4H clubs. The festival is called Malvern Brickfest.

Anyway, we who wouldn't know the first thing about starting a grill, are indebted to the dedication and sweat of our grillmasters. Burn, baby, burn!

God's Little Half Acre

Unlike Erskine Caldwell's, God's Little Acre, there's no hanky panky going on at God's Little Half Acre on Highway 7 in the Ozarks. After all, it is a final resting place with tombstones dating as far back as the mid 1800s.

After driving past this little fenced in plot of land for many years, I finally gave into curiosity and stopped. I'm glad I did. Cemeteries can shed some interesting light.

There were the usual infant markers for daughters and sons birthed and lost in the same year, several veterans and even a tombstone for James Freeman, C.O.D., who served in the 2nd Arkansas Calvary. The information is encircled in a type of marshall or sheriff badge. Now, what in the world does that mean?

Of utmost interest, however, is the tombstone which appears to have been scraped over with a knife, and the name Spciy Freeman was written on it with a stick. How very rudimentary and odd! Almost as if the death had been unexpected, and so a batch job was executed on an existing tombstone. The poor soul didn't even warrant a proper header. Wonder if he/she was a scoundrel? The family certainly didn't take pride in putting him to rest.

Also very peculiar in this little stretch of ground is the mound of rocks, some border plots like little rock fences, but there are no markers or tombstones.

Sad to see many of the markers are so old the writing has been worn away.

In rural spaces, as much of the Ozarks continues to be, regulation of such entities as cemeteries remains in the hands of local communities. This cemetery is so rural, even though it is on a well-traveled highway, that the closest house is at least 15 miles away.

I will keep y'all updated as I find out more info.

Cowgirls for Christ

Cowgirls for Christ is a local support group and ministry for girls who want to rodeo in a Christian environment. They travel to several local arenas on Sunday afternoons and host a casual worship service in the stands.

I'm glad we live in an area where adult mentors come together to nurture whole generations of young people in safe environments.

As my grandmother would say,"Thanks be to God."

Old South Still Kicking

In my town this Old South Restaurant, opened in 1947, is still serving up food, vintage American modular diner style, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is an icon and is listed on the historic register.

The proclamation reads: "The diner quickly became an oasis for hungry and wary travelers, providing food and a place to relax." This is still true.

In your part of the world, you might have all night restuarants. But here in the rural South, even situated on a major interstate, besides the gas station and the local Super Center, the Old South is a haven for folks wanting - and needing - nutritious food, a clean restroom and friendly conversation.

Recently, my family went for what the British call a Bean Feast. We ordered a slice of every pie they made, and we had a taste testing. That included pecan pie, apple crumb, lemon icebox, coconut cream, chocolate, possum and chocolate cream. Mmmm!!! I can taste it now.

They say their best selling pies are the possum and lemon, but you might just have to go down there and try it yourself.

Church Women Backbone of Churches

Doesn't it seem women are the backbone of the churches? I've always noticed that growing up in the South anyway. This is a member of the Presbyterian church from the neighboring small town who was manning the ticket table at the annual Bean Luncheon where she was taking advantage of the influx of guest to tout the women's new cookbook, River of Life.

The photo behind the woman is actually the cover of the book and shows the women of the church picking cotton at a member's farm in 1912 to raise money to rebuild their church which was "destroyed by the Federals during the War between the States."

A smaller church had been rebuilt in 1872, but the congregation had outgrown it, and the idea grew, fueled by several hundreds of dollars granted by the U.S. government as restitution for the original structure, of building a larger church home.

The First Presbyterian Church in Dardanelle was built in 1914 largely by the extraordinary measures taken by the women of the congregation who willed it into existence with bake sales and picking cotton for a prominent member. They devised a song they would sing during those hard times when they worked together out in the fields:

By sewing, milking or churning

We are making the money we are earning

But let us be thankful we are permitted to live

To make the money we are to give

Our duty we should not shirk for with this

Wea re to build a brand new church.

Hams Volunteer to Face Danger

These are the Radio Amateur Civil Emergency Service members in my little town. We have quite an active group. These are the folks who volunteer to maintain training throughout the year, so that when disaster strikes our community communication can still be maintained. Yep, these are the Ham operators - hams for short.

I recently had the pleasure of meeting with these guys, mostly retired engineers although one is retired from National Public Radio in New York City.

Listening to their schedule of field days and training sessions was a humbling experience for me. I live in an area which is known for its tornado activity, and it's reassuring to know these guys are in my back pocket looking out for the many pitfalls which might render an emergency a true disaster.

The group (Did I mention all are volunteers?) regularly trains with the local hospital and emergency personnel in disaster drills both on local and statewide levels. They keep their eyes on potential inconsistencies in the infrastructures supporting the communication framework.

With the fourth anniversary of 9-11 just around the corner, it's a good time to tip our hats to these brave and generous citizens who work to keep us safe.

Retired Pharmacist Turns to Farming

This is my good friend Charles Oates of Pottsville, Arkansas. He is retired from his post as small town pharmacist of more than fifty years and now enjoys firing up the tractor and bush-hogging and tending to his horses, cattle and chickens.


Charles has seen a lot of changes in the pharmaceutical profession and counts the computer as making the most significant impact. Charles specialized in compounding individual prescriptions for his customers and marvels at the world of information just a click away because of the computer.



His daughter recalled that the drugstore was never closed except to observe an hour for lunch on Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day and half a day to honor his founding partner on the day of his funeral.



Charles has been married to the same girl during his whole career. Her name is Jean, and he still calls her "sweetheart."


Thanks goodness for the men and women, who because of hard work and pride, have added to our sense of community.

Coffe Pot's Always On

Have seen these guys for years in the morning hours at our Main St. Hardee's restaurant. There are roughly 30 that get together as they can, most of them meeting every morning just to chew the fat. Many of them have been coming for over 20 years.

Folks, that commitment.

They say they talk some politics, dish on women, and check on each other when they've gone missing.

They get a little rowdy says a 10 year old boy who accompanies his grandfather during the summer. Bet they do. One old timer told me that sometimes there's a Democrat and a Republican sitting at the same table - and they're brothers!

May all our days start by reconnecting with our brothers and sisters, so that when we've gone a'missing, someone will come looking for us.

Music Helps Beat the Summer Heat

I love the local flavor of living in Arkansas. Entertaining at the Rivermarket farmers market one early Saturday morning is a local banjo player, part of a bluegrass group http://www.poseyhill.com/ .

That's just about the happiest sound - the banjo - helps take the heat out of a sizzling summer day. Here's hoping you'll be near a cool fan, a melodious toe-tapping tune and a tall glass of sweet tea today.