Picturesque doesn’t describe this town. Victorian architecture, steep streets, endless footpaths, good restaurants. Never get tired of this place. My mom used to have a cabin on the edge of town, and for years we spent odd weekends with her. But she done split for Oregon, so now we just come for the quiet and the calm.

Town characters: the New Yorkers who opened a B&B and write their novels here; the gay chefs who left San Francisco to open a restaurant here; the endless throng of painters and sculptors and poets; the Christian shop-owners selling Christian trinkets up near the Passion Play; the waitresses who apparently would rather be in NY fulfilling their dramatic destinies; the other waitresses who are happy just to be here; the intellectual carpenters, stone masons, and plumbers; then the Ozark natives who are curiously of that live-and-let-live mentality, don’t write books, don’t need to, and just quietly live out their lives in these hills. I know that type. That was my father’s side of the family.

Our favorite hotel? The Crescent. Favorite restaurants? Mud Street for breakfast, Ermilio’s for dinner. Favorite swimming hole? Hog Scald Hollow. Favorite river for canoeing? The King’s. Favorite past-time? Doing as little as possible. The views are endless, the hikes a pleasure, and the accents soothing to the ear. Think we’ll go for a hike soon, then to a spa to soak, then to the hotel just to read for two hours uninterrupted. Dinner later with friends. Damn good day.

After we got into town last night, I stopped by the convention center to meet up with Steve Schmidt—local art bon vivant—and judge the art exhibit there (www.eurekaspringsartists.com). Lord he didn’t make my job easy. A lot of fine work, and all varieties: craft, photography, painting, sculpting, jewelry. Spent two hours reviewing everything, then making my selections. A lot of talent in these mountains. Perhaps I’ll work with some of the artists eventually.