During the Christmas season the courthouse, gazebo, and Magnolia trees are covered with thousands of white lights. In the spring when the Magnolia trees are in bloom the square becomes the focus of the annual Blossom Festival. Craft vendors set up their stands around the square and ply their wares while everyone awaits the parade that precedes the World Championship Steak Cookoff. The purpose of the parade is to display the wild variety of custom made cookers and the costumes of the cooks. Prizes are awarded for the best steak, best cooker design, and showmanship.

Around the square are shops and stores of all types, many with colorful awnings of sheet metal or canvas that offer some protection from the hot summer sun to window shoppers and passersby. There are clothing stores, furniture stores, and jewelers as well as shops featuring antiques, gifts, and framed artwork. Streets radiate from the square at right angles in all four compass directions. One is Main Street running west to east and on this street near the square are four huge and colorful murals depicting scenes from the history of the area. A few blocks from the square to the east and north are several beautifully restored homes that date back to the very early 1900s.

A few miles outside of town to the northwest is Lake Columbia, a man made lake perfect for boating, fishing, and camping. Nearby is Frog Level, a beautifully preserved ante-bellum mansion that was the county seat until the 1890s. About seven miles to the northeast of town is Logoly State Park. The park is on the site of a resort popular in the late 1800's and early 1900's due to the mineral springs that flow out of the hills in the area. In those days the mineral water was considered to have health benefits and the resort prospered for many years. The nature trails at the park are very popular in early spring when the dogwood trees are in bloom.

My home is in a rural area nestled in the piney woods seven miles to the southwest of Magnolia. The area is rich in southern history and folklore. Four miles south of my home is Dorcheat Creek named by the Quapaw Indians. The road I live on, Columbia County road 15, is known as the Burnt Bridge Road. It took its name from an incident that occurred shortly after the end of the Civil War. The governor of the state at the time was appointed by the President since Arkansas had seceded during the war. This governor organized a state militia ostensibly to restore peace and the rule of law to the area during the restoration. The militia members, however, took their assignment as a license to steal. The story goes that the militia was traveling through the southern part of the state indiscriminately stealing and burning. Word reached the community that the militia was headed this way from the southwest. At that time the only route they could take with their supply wagons across Dorcheat Creek was the road in question. A large bridge constructed of wooden timbers spanned the creek. To block the advance of the militia the townspeople burned the bridge. As a result the militia was forced to detour thus sparing the community. There is also a legend that Jesse James, pursued by a posse, passed through the Dorcheat Creek area and stashed loot from a robbery that he never recovered.

From the edge of the woods comes the squeal or soft barking of a gray squirrel. From the east side of my house I can hear the whisper quiet chatter of chickadees and goldfinches mingle with the harsh voice of a jay or the chirp of a cardinal as they sample my offering from a bird feeder.

Early spring nights are often uncomfortably cool and increasingly noisy with chirps, buzzing, and clicks as more and more insects revive or hatch. The constellations overhead change from Orion and Taurus to Virgo and Libra, the bright starlight flickering as the heating atmosphere develops turbulence - A signal that late spring thunderstorms are brewing.

As spring gives way to summer the new foliage of the trees and shrubs darkens to a deep summer green. This observer begins to wonder how many shades of green are possible. Gardens sprout tomato vines, squash vines, and pepper plants as the corn stalks sway heavily with the weight of ripening ears. Bees work busily among the Iris and ajuga blossoms. Monarch and yellow sulfur butterflies float lazily on the warm summer air. Often, when I walk out onto my deck, I am scolded by a house wren that nests in the birdhouse under the eaves, next to the chimney. I placed it there to prevent woodpeckers from pecking holes into the cedar siding of my house. For some reason they are drawn to that particular spot. The familiar summer cycle begins to take shape. The birds that previously were active all day begin to disappear during the heat of midday. Great blue herons and white egrets can be seen strolling in the shallows of the pond early in the morning. As the summer matures the days become hot and humid. Temperatures during the southwest Arkansas summer can, and often do, reach triple digits with humidity above 90 percent. Midday becomes blazingly hot and increasingly quiet as few creatures wish to venture out into the heat. Most prefer to restrict their activities to the early morning or early evening hours. Warm musty odors fill the motionless air. The heat of the day fades as evening approaches. Often, in the early evening I sit on my deck and watch the chimney swifts circle overhead, their stubby bodies and triangular wings silhouetted against the twilight sky. If rain threatens the peepers near the pond raise a constant din as if they are urging the rain to fall. From deep within the woods I hear the guttural cry of a yellow billed cuckoo. The older folks in this area call them rain crows. As night falls the whippoorwills call to each other. One is close, loud - the other distant, barely heard. Fireflies blink an erratic path against the darkness of the woods. A cicada buzzes loudly in the trees. Overhead the milky way flows from Scorpio in the southeast through Cygnus toward the northwest. In the distance I hear the hoot of the barred owl or the eerie wail of the screech owl. An occasional breeze brings an overpowering smell of honeysuckle blossoms as heat lightning flickers in the distance and the deep bass of a bullfrog echoes from the shallow end of the pond.

Late summer is dry and dusty yet exceedingly humid. The dryness lingers as summer turns to autumn, my favorite time of year. The approach of autumn is indicated by the first few crisp, cool, low humidity days. The sunlight takes on a golden hue and sweetgum foliage becomes lightly sprinkled with yellow and red. Patches of brown appear among the pine needles. Oak twigs litter the ground under the trees. The victims of girdler beetles earlier in the summer. Chain saws can be heard growling in the creek bottoms - the sound of firewood in the making. The mornings become cooler. Soon, very early in the morning, fingers of gray mist rise from the pond and the vines that snatch at my clothes and bare flesh of my arms and legs as I mow next to the woods hang heavy with fat, ripe blackberries. I see tractors and trailers loaded with huge bales of hay pass down the road in front of my house. Spreading wind borne bahia grass seeds across my front lawn no doubt. I've given up trying to keep it from growing out there.

Later in the season the sumac bushes on the roadsides turn blood red. Oak trees turn red or orange and pine needles start to fall. Time to see if my yard broom is in good working order. The sweetgums turn bright yellow or deep red or both. The leaves fall. The hawthorns, plentiful in the woods on my property, seem to lose their small leaves first, sweetgums soon after. The oaks cling to their dry brown leaves the longest but then lose them suddenly in a rainstorm. The leaves are treasure from above in my opinion for I save them for the compost heap or mulch in the vegetable garden. The squirrels, quiet all summer, start once again to squeal from the trees as they feed on the abundant pine cones. Another sound not often heard in the summer months, the croak of the yellow shafted flicker woodpecker, common hereabouts, in combination with the crispness of the air and the color of the sunlight simply "feels" like autumn to me. The nights become quieter as the insects, birds, and frogs prepare for colder weather. Late at night Orion peeps over the treetops to the east. Winter is on its way.