Author: Michele Broxton

The Ozark chinquapin once fed families across these hills, and though the blight took the big trees, I’ll show you where it’s still trying.

A Union quartermaster ledger proves Camp Phelps existed in Phelps County by 1862—and the ground we walk held soldiers before the war was half over.

The frog chorus is back in the Ozark hills, and I’ll show you how to identify the spring peepers, chorus frogs, and bullfrogs singing outside your door.

In 1949, a group of Phelps County women built a hospital with casseroles and stubbornness—three months from first meeting to open doors.

The dogwood is blooming on our Ozark trails this week, and I want to show you the notched bracts, the alligator bark, and the old fever remedy hidden inside.

I stopped at a dogwood blooming from bare limestone and realized I was standing where someone stood ten thousand years ago, watching the same quiet miracle.

Mid-April is peak calling season for Ozark amphibians, and I’ll show you how your kids can map the chorus with nothing but their ears and a simple recording app.

I’ll tell you what a wild turkey’s springtime show sounds like, why you almost never heard it a century ago, and how to help your kids witness it this week.

The dogwoods are blooming, and those white bracts hide the real flowers—tiny clusters most people miss, along with 10,000 years of Ozark wisdom.

I heard my first Swainson’s warbler yesterday—a bird that sounds like it’s laughing at a secret—and I want to tell you where to find one.