A Cool Day at Hawn State Park
by Rebecca Schedler

Now that it's a hot, humid, typical Missouri summer, it is nice to think back to this spring when new leaves were just uncurling in that clear, pure green, with the lavender and white mist of redbuds and dogwood flowers scattered everywhere, and when the creeks had water running in them. That is what members from the Osage and Trail of Tears groups have to remember from their first joint outing this year.

It was the 26th of April, just barely getting warm enough to think about camping. My friend Gail and I set out from Columbia, taking the scenic route (State Route 8 through the National Forest) toward St. Francois to converge with Alan, Kathy, Kiva, Don, Brian, Judy, Dennis, Mary, Mary Elise, Brenda, and Roy at the Dairy Queen on Highway 67. While waiting for late arrivals, we got acquainted in the parking lot, sipping hot coffee. Once we were all present and accounted for a plan was formulated. We decided to go first to Hickory Canyon, a place you can find only if you know where it is. Led by the able and knowledgeable Dennis Stuppy, we enjoyed mossy rocks covered by lichens and ferns and trees just beginning to leaf out, with an easy hiking trail that wound through a small stream valley. Alan, his brother Don, and their friends fell behind the rest of the hikers, botanizing about the variations between bird-foot and dog-tooth violets. By consensus, the dogwoods outdid all other flowers this year by their sheer numbers.

We then traveled to Hawn State Park for lunch. The picnic area there features a grove of very large pine trees. Sandwiches, fruit and veggies were the order of the hour. Thank you again to the person who shared her mango! After lunch we went to Pickle Springs. This area is distinctive and different from what we encounter in the Ozarks since the dominant rock found there is sandstone. There were times when it was difficult to figure out what to photograph because there were so many interesting views. The sandstone has been carved by natural forces into fantastic shapes, and there are huge tumbles of rock that look as if strewn by a giant hand. True to its name, Pickle Springs is laced with small rivulets that flow everywhere this time of year. The burbling of spring water and the splashing of waterfalls served to enhance the whole experience.

All good things must come to an end. Since Gail and I had a very long drive we opted to forgo dinner with everyone else. I've heard that the Mexican fare they enjoyed was good. On the way back we chose to take the fast lane home and were safe in our beds by 11:00 p.m.