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Endless Summer

It was a magnificent blue-green clear spring that ran

through the Ozark mountains, with rocks that

dazzled through the water as the sun shined down

on them. This Spring fed into the Lake of the

Ozarks and was named after the Indians, Ha Ha

Tonka, which means “laughing waters”. My

grandmother and I walked those trails often when I

was a child. One of the most exciting things that

happened on those walks when we walked clear to

the opening of the spring was to go through the


In the middle of the spring was a island (as a young

girl, I thought it was a island, but in reality it was just

a sandbar). In the middle of the island was a

fantastic mud hole. I spent a whole summer

contemplating that island with the mud hole.

I waded in it, threw rocks in it, made mud pies. I

even made mud pies with those shiny rocks. As the

hot days crawled by I studied those little yellow

flowers that became my “eggs” or a new addition to

my mud pies. The brown crown like stems when

rubbed between my hands became coffee to go with

my little fancy mud pies.

Sometimes I would bring my Barbie doll with me, for

pie & coffee. One time Barbie got off balance and

sank into the muck which forever ruined the resale

value of my Barbie. There may be nothing more

forlorn in this world than a Barbie with no pants &

one plastic shoe.

Time was different then, time came in big buckets,

but it was August, the most endless month of those

forever summers, it stewed and simmered in that

nearly liquid air and August just never seemed to run out.


By Tracy A. Furr

August 2013

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