Where are the Ozarks?
by Joshua Heston
Some would argue the Ozarks aren’t a region at all, but a state of mind.
That may not be far from the truth. The Ozark Mountains are best defined two ways: geographically and culturally.
This page is graciously sponsored by Victory Chiro! See more at right! --->
Geographically the Ozarks are a series of plateaus. Highlands. The largest is the Salem Plateau, which encompasses Branson, Rolla, Hardy, and stretches all the way to Sedalia, Jefferson City and St. Louis.
Far to the east, nearly to Illinois, the St. Francois Mountains rise to the south of Farmington, Missouri.
The Springfield Plateau includes Springfield, Missouri, stretches up to Warsaw and Stockton Lake, reaches over to Joplin, and then leans way over into Oklahoma to include Tahlequah.
In the south, the rugged Boston Mountains define northwest Arkansas. And even further south — across the Arkansas River — the Ouachitas rise.
All together, these highlands make up what can be called the Ozarks.
The term highland can be a bit of a relative concept. (Story continued below).
10/28/10, Hackberry Triptych. Photo credit, Joshua Heston. Location: Rural Stone County, Missouri.
Geologists tell us the Ozarks are mighty old. Older than the Rockies or the Appalachians. So old, in fact, that they’ve been worn down to a nub.
On the north side of these hills, you don't climb into the mountains as much as you wander around...and then fall into them.
From the south, however, the Ozarks can be seen clearly as they rise from the Arkansas River valley.
Just pull off Interstate-40 around Ozark, Arkansas, sometime on a hot summer night and watch the lightning play amongst the solemn old hills of the Boston Mountains.
And somewhere between the lightning flashes and the frogs’ song, the meaning of these hills may just take ahold of your heart.
— April 26, 2009
12/16/08, These Old Hills. Photo credit, Joshua Heston. Location: Mincy
Essentially a part of the upper South, the diverse landscape of the Ozarks contains many special habitats that resemble other regions of the country.
The sunny glades resemble the desert Southwest; the cool, spring-fed meadows resemble northern Minnesota bogs; the deep, shaded ravines of the eastern Ozarks are typical of the Appalachian Mountain forests; and the southern river flood plains are linked to the deep South.
— excerpted from the Missouri State Museum, Jefferson City, Missouri
From Shepherd of the Hills
“That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Tho they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.”
— Troilus and Cressida. Act 3; Sc. 3.
by Joshua Heston
It is that time of year. Time to look at the cold blues, the browns, the grays, and hope for spring. Still, and yet, there’s beauty in a world stripped of brightness. A world tinged with frost. A world at times etched with shadow.
The burnt sienna grass in the grader ditches; dark cedar glades. And oaks painted an almost luminous red-brown. It's beautiful stuff. But, like much of the Ozarks, it is a beauty you just have to slow down for a moment to appreciate it.
It is not postcard perfect beauty... no, it is a beauty that — to appreciate — you must get out of the house, out of the car and out of familiar comforts.
And then stop for a moment to see the world around us.
— from January 23, 2011 State of the Ozarks Weekly Issue 167
09/19/08, Sassafras sunset. Photo credit, Joshua Heston. Location: Branson, Missouri.
“While still a child he was forbidden to go far into the forest, but often he went to gather brushwood at its fringes. He loved to be there when the sun sank low, and briefly its fireball brilliance was trapped beneath the canopy. No artist ever mixed colours quite like the ones he saw then.”
"Warm tendrils and tubers gleamed on fat beds of spaghnum. Opalesceent shrubs caught the sparks from swaying creepers. In dank, mulchy hollows, ochre turned to auburn, amber to copper, emerald to olive then darker into sage, until the black of night swallowed even these last shining embers.”
From Grimm’s Last Fairytale by Hadyn Middleton