Marble Falls      We’ve been working remotely from the Ozarks for the last sixteen days.  It’s fairly amazing how much we’re able to get done without the distractions and daily life of the city.  For example, in addition to keeping up with the regular obligations of work, I’ve made huge progress in sweating down the 550-page Nuts and Bolts book into a “just the facts, ma’am” abbreviated version of less than 200 pages, fit for colleagues in Italy, the Netherlands, and Latin America to translate for use there, and, just maybe, an easier read for others in English as well.

There are other advantages as well that are worth noting.

Reading about heat waves in New Orleans, elsewhere in the USA, and all over the world, it almost goes without saying that it’s both cooler and drier in the mountains this time of year.  Sure, it might hit the high 80s or low 90s, but humidity is less, and it’s offset nicely with evenings and early mornings that have been somewhere between the mid-60s Fahrenheit and the low 70s.  We’ve worn sweaters or hoodies at some point of every day, where in New Orleans, long pants this time of year are more a moral commitment than something that is weather recommended.

I read something the other day quoting a singer-activist somewhere in northwest Arkansas almost apologizing that the Ozarks were “not mountains,” but something less esteemed like hills.  Geologists would disagree, and I will second their views.  The Ozarks are absolutely mountains, they are just very, very old mountains.  They make my birthplace of towering mountains in Wyoming and Colorado mere babies in comparison, and the Appalachians, where I lived briefly in Kentucky as a boy, a mere adolescent.  The Ozarks began 1.65 billion years ago, while the Appalachian Mountains formed approximately 480 million years ago. The Rocky Mountains began rising around 300 million years ago and are still growing today.  Putting a shovel in the ground to plant a tree through this hard mix of rock and soil from millions of years of erosion is an exercise that builds callouses from its lessons in simple science.

One treat in the mountains has been birdsong, when we find ourselves drawn to sitting on the deck every morning, a cup of coffee in hand, to hear the constant chorus.  The fantastic Merlin app from Cornell helps us identify the birds from their songs, and there are a plenty.  Over the stay, a long list develops that includes red-eyed and white-eyed vireos, eastern wood-peewee, tufted titmouse, indigo bunting, pleated, downy, and red-bellied woodpeckers, northern cardinals, Carolina wrens, Carolina chickadees, white-breasted nuthatches, American goldfinch, green and ruby-throated hummingbirds, mourning doves, and scarlet tanagers.  Of course, there are also various crows, turkey vultures, wild turkeys, blue jays, giant blue herons, robins, hawks and more, but the songbirds especially underline what we miss in the city.

We’ve seen deer drinking in the creek, armadillos in the night, rabbits throughout the day, snakes here and there.  We’re still looking for the black bear.  We’re known they are here, just eluding us so far.

The daily trip to the gym disappears here since we are almost a half-hour from any town, but is substituted by a constant workout in this new daily routine. Going up and down the hills on the property is part of it.  The mowing, weeding, and bushwhacking tests other muscles.  Cutting back the trees along the road that brush the truck, going on attack against the invasive species trying to find a place, or the wild growth coming too near the deck and basement will all bring on a good sweat.  Walking a mile each way to the mailbox isn’t the same as an elliptical machine, neither is daily the back-and-forth to the pond mi companera makes to feed scraps to the catfish, but it does the job. Wading in the Buffalo River for a bit, late on a hot afternoon, isn’t quite laps in a pool, but it’s invigorating.  It all adds up to something, keeping us alive and well.

Arkansas may not have a great reputation as a tourist state.  The mountains may be more solid than soaring.  It may not be fancy living or fine dining. Still, it’s a fun way to combine work with some great summer days.  We’re making it a habit.