February – the shortest month of the year. However, while we are in the midst of it, it seems to be never ending, lingering on and on, day after gloomy day. Why is that? Have we forgotten that daylight can extend past 5 pm? Or maybe all those seed catalogs that begin arriving in the mail and piling up on the kitchen table make us grow ever more impatient for spring as they taunt us with their glossy rainbows of flowers, fruits and vegetables. 
Reminding us that there are colors other than brown and gray, that the sun can warm the earth enough for green stuff to once again emerge from the currently frozen, barren soil. Whatever causes this annoying phenomenon, I have long ago gotten in the habit of planning in advance for this end of winter funk. Some time in the fall we make plans for a late winter weekend retreat. Not to a sunny tropical destination but to someplace semi-local where we can reaffirm our appreciation for the changing seasons and the beauty that can still be found even in the gloominess of winter’s final months.
This year the destination was the newly constructed lodge at Echo Bluff state park in Eminence, Missouri. The park is in a beautiful area right in the middle of the Ozark National Scenic Riverways and the Mark Twain National Forest. Needless to say, we were very excited to get out in the fresh air and do some hiking and sightseeing.
When we arrived at the lodge, we were greeted by the little band of wild horses that like to hang around the park. I have heard these horses are descendants of once domesticated farm animals that were set free during the Great Depression. They are now protected by law and are maintained by a local organization to prevent the herds from getting larger than 50 animals. When this happens, some of the them are caught so they can be tamed and put up for adoption by local residents, where they rejoin their domestic ancestors. I suppose you could argue that these creatures are really more “feral” then “wild”, but nonetheless there is something rather romantic and nostalgic about the notion of horses roaming freely throughout the countryside. Yet, the bond that was broken nearly 100 years ago may not be quite so fragile and some of these animals still seem to trust us silly humans, at least a little bit. I watched as they approached a group of people starting a campfire and was, of course, inspired to attempt a connection of my own. 
I must admit they look a lot more impressive from a distance. Up close you can see the ravages of surviving in this mountainous Missouri terrain. Their manes and tails are tangled up with burs and leaves and they look like they could really use a full-blown spa day, complete with mani-pedi – unshod horses tend to have some pretty gnarly nails. With freezing rain and ice predicted for the following evening, I couldn’t help but wonder where these poor creatures slept at night.
We were quite a bit luckier, we knew exactly where we would be sleeping. The lodge is a gorgeous new
log and stone structure, cozy and warm with a giant fireplace in a two-story great room and amazing views of its namesake bluff and Sinking Creek. Our room was on the second floor, overlooking the bluff and creek. Despite the impending winter storm, it was an unusually warm evening, so we sat on our little balcony, adult beverage in hand and enjoyed the view as the sun slowly sank in the sky and the horses meandered down the creek, wandering off into the night to wherever it is they go.
The next morning was exploration time and we needed to get an early start so we could be back at the lodge before the inclement weather hit. Sometimes the best trips are the ones with no set plans – you just tend to go wherever the road leads. This trip was no exception to that rule. We started off in the general direction of Rocky Falls for no other reason than I saw a sign and it sounded interesting. Along the way, we saw another sign for Alley Spring. This I had heard of, so we decided to take a brief detour and check it out. All I can say about this place is “WOW”! It was like standing in the middle of a picture 
postcard. It was so amazingly beautiful. You don’t realize how color blind the winter gloom can make you until your eyes are once again acquainted with blue water and green plants. This has got to be the most colorful place that Missouri has to offer in these dark, dank months. A bright red mill, reflected in a pool of naturally blue spring water with lush green plants! There was even a slight mist floating just above the water. It was simply jaw dropping and pictures cannot do it justice. I would love to come back here in the fall to see how the autumn color enhances it even further.
In the winter, daylight is a limited commodity, so we were forced to press on in our unscripted agenda and continue to Rocky Falls. At this point, we realized we were truly “off the grid” because we had lost cell phone coverage and I had to rummage through the litter in the glove box and dust off the paper map of Missouri. This moment always makes me a little elated. I just love having to unfold that darn map and not have to rely on Siri to get us lost. Our misdirection now depended on my navigational prowess and the cartographical accuracy of Rand-McNally. Onward to Rocky Falls!
Rocky Falls was pretty much just that, a rocky waterfall. There was indeed water and rocks and a fall, but it wasn’t running at full strength. Probably much more impressive in the spring when there’s a little more water. We had a short amount of time between other visitors to get in a few pictures, but when a camo-attired horde came roaring up on a dozen or so ATV’s we figured that signaled the end of this particular photo shoot.
Just like that, it was back to the beloved paper map to see what other natural wonders this area had up its sleeve. And there on the map, highlighted and bolded in blue as a “point of interest”, was Blue Spring. What could that be? It must be worth checking out if it was truly a point of interest. So off we drove in search of a blue spring, curving and winding through the back roads of rural Missouri. It was somewhere along this route that I learned how you know when you have actually reached Rural Missouri – it’s the moment when you see a dead, rotting coyote carcass impaled on fence post as a warning to all his pack mates and kin to stay the F*** out of Rural Missouri. Yikes…Doubt there are many PETA sympathizers in these parts.
Blue Spring is another of Missouri’s natural wonders that lives up to its name by virtue of being both blue and a spring. In my experience, many of the springs in Missouri are blue, so what makes this one different? Well the signage is happy to tell you! This is the deepest spring in Missouri (over 300 feet), it 
is so blue that the native Americans called it the “Spring of the Summer Sky” and it discharges 90 million gallons of water a day! It truly is quite an amazing shade of blue. 
On this, the grayest of all winter days, it was the bluest of any spring that has ever sprung. The water is so clear, you can peer straight down into its azure depths, where the blueness seems to increase the deeper you try to stare. Even the fish shimmer like sapphires as they dart about in their beautiful little basin of blue. Definitely another awe-inspiring photo destination to add to the lineup for the Eminence area.
Time always seems to fly when you’re having fun. With no cell phone coverage, an outdated map of Missouri and inclement weather on the radar it was time to follow the trail of dead coyotes back to the sanctuary of the lodge where a special Valentines Day dinner was being prepared.
Later in the evening, after enjoying an overabundance of filet mignon, lobster tail and decadent desserts, we hunkered down by the massive stone fireplace to ride out the storm. As the ice began to tap against the windows, we reflected on the adventures of the day and how, with all the stunning and colorful natural wonders that this beautiful place had to offer, we had gained a whole new perspective on the concept of “winter blues.”
Out here in Missouri – in the foothills of the Ozarks – I came across the remains of the lifework of one man. A man with a lofty dream – a passion that relentlessly consumed him both day and night and led him on a labor of love and a journey of faith that continued throughout his life.
Brother Bronislaus Luszcz was a Franciscan monk who immigrated to the St. Louis area from Poland in 1927. In his native country, he grew up watching pilgrims make their way to the Shrine of St. Mary. These pilgrims would travel hundreds of miles on foot and sleep along the road to pay homage to the Queen of Peace. Brother Bronislaus developed a great devotion for Mary during his formative years, a devotion that never relented.
When Bronislaus came to the United States, he was one of several Brothers who were put to work establishing St. Joseph’s Hill Infirmary – a convalescent home for men, nestled back on a wooded hillside on the outskirts of the towns of Eureka and Pacific Missouri. It was in this peaceful environment one day in 1937 that Brother Bronislaus embarked on what would be his life’s work – a series of stone grottoes built entirely by hand with nothing more than a sledgehammer and an axe. What remains now is a tribute to his faith and the culmination of over 20 years of backbreaking labor.
to what was on the monastery grounds, so he became creative with his own unique construction and adornments. He raided the infirmary’s kitchen and confiscated pots and pans. Cake pans shaped like lambs and rabbits became molds for the concrete animals that sit at the feet of St. Francis. Jell-O molds, cupcake tins and discarded light fixtures were the basis for the floral decorations that embellish the corners of his tributes to St. Mary and St. Joseph. Colored glass bottles set into recesses along the walls became makeshift stained glass windows.
And so he toiled for 22 years. Clearing land, breaking stone, mitigating through trial and err
or, honing his skill. A slave to his own labors, each monument became more elaborate and fantastic than the last. Then one day, just after his 66th birthday, Bronislaus was beginning construction on his newest grotto, in honor of Our Lady of Fatima. It was a hot day in the summer of 1960 and Bronislaus was recovering from a bout with the flu when he was overcome by the heat. He managed to make his way across the courtyard to where the statue of St. Mary stood sentinel in the Our Lady of Perpetual Help Grotto. Collapsing on the stones at her feet in the August afternoon sun, he lay gazing up at the statue of his beloved Madonna. Her outstretched hand reaching to take him back home where he would toil no longer. Later that day, when he did not return to the monastery for evening prayers, the other Brothers came to look for him, a trail of tools led them to his earthly remains. This very spot is now marked with a seashell, to honor his memory in the place of his own creation. His vision was now a reality, his accomplishment and his legacy.
However, the fact still remains that Bronislaus wasn’t finished, his accomplishments were not completed, nor would they ever be no matter how long he lived. When you look around the rest of the grounds, you will see them dotting the landscape here and there. Grotto-less statues of Saints awaiting their turn to be humbled by the unique creativity of one man. In his mind there would never be a last grotto. As long as he was still alive, the construction would have continued. You see, once you find your life’s work the only thing that ends it is your death. No matter what your passion – there will always be another animal to save, another mouth to feed, another picture to paint, another novel to write, another song to sing. It’s not the completion of the job that is satisfying, it’s the doing. 
We climb the ladder one rung at a time but never reach the top. It’s like a magical beanstalk that keeps growing as we climb. The end appears to be within reach, but we can’t quite get there. No matter how much we do, it’s just not enough. There’s always something bigger, something better around the corner. A new idea, another adventure and so we surrender ourselves to this work. We just do it, for no other reason than doing it makes us feel fulfilled.
In a way it’s quite bittersweet when you think about it, we spend our whole lives working on the things we love – gardens, artwork, music, poetry. Yet for all the joy these things bring us, for most of us when we go…these things will go with us. They will be lost in time, succumb to the elements and be given back to the earth. Maybe a few pieces will remain for a while with the people we loved, the lives we’ve touched.
In memory of Brother Bronislaus Luszcz. August 4, 1894 – August 12, 1960.
Hiking through the woods, observing and photographing all the beautiful flora and fauna is definitely my favorite past time, but sometimes it’s also fun to observe my fellow human creatures in their less than natural urban environment. Like their woodland counterparts, these creatures must also forage for food and drink. What better place to observe this urban phenomenon than in the historic Soulard neighborhood, merely a hop, skip and jump from downtown St. Louis.
have been buying and selling their goods and wares here for over 200 years. It’s one of the oldest farmer’s markets in the United States, dating back to 1779 when it was an open air market where local farmers gathered to sell their produce. The original building was erected in the 1840’s and was replaced in 1929 with a Renaissance style structure. While colorful fresh produce abounds here, it’s not the only option. There is so much more to be had in this market – from baked goods to fresh meat, and handmade items like soaps and jewelry – the list goes on and on. 
Next we attempted to enjoy a short hike through the urban landscape, but the heat and humidity of a 90+ degree summer day in St. Louis got the better of us and it wasn’t long before we worked up quite a thirst. Lucky for us, this neighborhood also houses one of the most famous watering holes in the world. Actually, it’s the headwaters of an endless river of amber liquid that serves as the main artery to millions of other watering holes thro
ughout the world. Founded in 1852 this is the headquarters and original brewery of Anheuser Busch and the famous line of Budweiser beers. There couldn’t be a more perfect way to beat the heat and conclude this urban adventure than by taking a free tour of the brewery and enjoying a complimentary sample of ice-cold brew. 
Entrance to the Missouri State Penitentiary
What I liked most about this cave was that its natural beauty was allowed to speak for itself. There were no cheesy laser light shows or holograms projected on the walls. Just amazing natural formations that have been shaping and evolving under the surface of the earth for centuries. There were stalactites hanging from the ceiling, stalagmites growing from the floor, and the columns that are created when these two formations eventually meet up and merge together. 
The path meandered along a crystal clear underground stream where we viewed flowstone, dripstone and something our guide called ‘cave bacon’. All of this was really quite lovely, but the most extraordinary thing of all was a place called the ‘Lily Pad room’. Wow! I’ve toured a lot of caves and I have never seen anything like it. It was an underground aquatic wonderland. It gave me a sense of being magically transported to another world with a foreign, yet fascinating landscape. Lily pads made of stone seemed to float on the surface of the water; beneath the surface cave coral grew in brilliant shades of greens and blues. We hung around, taking pictures in this stunning venue until the guide pretty much turned out the lights on us. 
One of the most difficult and therefore, obsessive challenges for me has been photographing the night sky. But I’m persistent if nothing else and I will not let a few celestial bodies get the better of me. What makes star photography even more difficult is that the conditions must be perfect. It needs to be a moonless, cloudless night, in an area far from any ambient light and last but not least, you need to have something interesting in the foreground. Long exposure photography also requires that everything is setup correctly on the camera. Something I often forget in all of my star struck enthusiasm.
camera equipment and headed south down highway 21 towards one of the most beautiful areas in Missouri, the Arcadia Valley.
there all night, packed up the camera gear and headed towards the parade of granite pachyderms at the top of the hill. The views didn’t disappoint. With the camera on the tripod pointed out over the Arcadia Valley, the highest mountains of the Missouri Ozarks beckoned off in the distance. I checked and doubled checked all the camera settings. The only thing left was to wait for the stars to come out.
The Last One Home 