We were in Mountain Home for business so we stopped by to have a look see.
There have been rumors it was closing but I verified they were repairing and soon would be back to full operational capacity.
The hatchery has been a constant in our lives. We enjoyed visiting with our children and their children. A free place to see how fish are "made" and just enjoy the views and the fresh fish air.
Each runway has it's own age and type of trout.
The young fry in different stages are kept indoors.
I had my pocket Canon Power Shot but I kept clicking.
They transport and release their fish where they are needed.
Outside the runways and the fish are progressively bigger.
Nets cover the area to prevent water birds
and other fish eaters from having a picnic.
Before I reached the end of the "runways" I knew why there were fans in the nursery. It was HOT. I thought y'all could take my word that waaaaayyy down there are the big trout. I headed for the truck, AC and a cold drink. Hubby had enjoyed watching people catch fish.
Last week I showed you pictures of Dry Run Creek running into Norfork River below the dam. Today we're just crossing the highway to visit the Fish Hatchery and to see the other side of the road but first we are visiting another section of Dry Run Creek.
There a wonderful series of fenced stairs and rest stops so you can make your way safely to the creek.
Hubby is no longer able to walk this far especially in this humidity
so he enjoyed watching the people fish from a shady top walk.
When we first moved to the farm we raised miniature horses. My sister, Beverly, and I had cleaned and repaired the barn from one end to the other. I gave tours to groups at no charge. I was just proud of what we had accomplished and wanted to share with the world.
During the repairs we found many pieces of our family history had been destroyed just by storing them so many years in a barn. I took the pieces, and, yes, I knew the story for every piece and made a sign. I had a piece of something that belonged to every member of the family generations past.
I even had t-shirts made. Front
and back. (Raindrops on the shirt not stains)
After the tornado the barn and the sign (and many other things) had much damage. This past month I tried to resurrect my sign. Too much destroyed so I began anew. Different pieces but the same purpose...to share the name we chose.
All that remained of the original sign was part of an F so I began there.
I gathered pieces of this and that and pieced them together to recreate my original sign. It's not the same but we are labeled again.
Some may wonder why At The Farm. Before we moved here someone would ask, Where's Dad? Where's Hubby? At The Farm was always the answer so with my horses' registration I used At The Farm as the suffix instead of the standard prefix in a farm/ranch name.
The first filly born here was Angel's Trumpet At The Farm and the first colt was named Walking Small At The Farm...see where I'm going besides in circles?
When my sister, Beverly, said I should blog the name came naturally...At The Farm.
Although we are no longer a horse ranch nor a cattle ranch the name remains mainly because of my blog. Presenting the new old sign and it's new location...Ta daaaaa!
This was taken on a July weekend closest to Granny's birthday, the fifth. We always had a family gathering to celebrate. This picture is at the top farm where I grew up in a three generational family. The pond and the orchard behind us no longer exist. (Eminent Domain is such a dirty word.)
It was a learning house and a loving house and Granny was our center. It was her unspoken position as the matriarch of the family. We continue that tradition today and honor our oldest female for the wisdom of her age.
Granny lived with us many years after Grandpa was gone. She wore aprons with pockets that always had something interesting in them; a rock, a string, a piece of fruit or, on a rare occasion, gum or candy. Granny's pockets were like a set of encyclopedias, if you looked often you would find just what you were seeking.
What amazed me most was her constant saving of every string of twine she discovered. Feed sacks and food sacks were both sewn with a seam of twine. Thicker than regular sewing thread it could be used for a variety of things. The mystery of choosing the right thread or stitch to begin the unraveling eluded me for years but not Granny.
Granny would carefully gather and wind it on to her ever growing ball of twine. When it reached a size she could no longer comfortably hold she began another. It will be useful one day, she would answer when I asked why she saved ALL the twine.
The uses were miracles I witnessed with Granny. This twine could hold a June bug by the leg as he flew above your head. Twine could hold a chicken. It could help make a kite and it could make doll clothes and dog collars.
Twine made wonderful string games as Granny taught me "Jacob's Ladder" and "Walking The Dog" and other string tricks I've forgotten the name but never the tricks. This twine could make a button "sing" and even make music if you were as talented as Granny.
Twine held my hair in a braid and it sewed a braided rug together. Twine patched jeans and could even be used to catch a fish, make your shirt into a sack to carry things and make wonderful braided necklaces.
And it made quilts. My first quilts were quilted by Granny and her twine. She could move that needle so quickly and smoothly through the quilt layers on the frame that hung from our living ceiling (you could quilt and when another job arose you would wind the frame close to the ceiling until you could quilt again).
Oh, the things Granny gave me...the gift of imagination, unlimited possibilities, a strong dose of perseverance and a finely honed sense of humor.
When I prepared for marriage Granny was gone. I knew somehow she approved of my choice of life mate. I carefully gathered pieces we had made together for my "Hope chest". I made rag quilts from some of Granny's clothes and my quilts told a story. When it came time to tack these, I pulled out one of Granny's balls of twine, threaded my needle. sewed the layers of quilt onto the same frame and began to tack. I think she was with me then, smiling. That's right, girl, a good strong twine will never let you down.
Granny and the magic of twine will never leave me.