The little town of Femme Osage, really no more than a handful of buildings, has the perfect setting along a creek.
Across a bridge is a small church, surrounded by trees. A general store, at least at one point, sits along the road.
It is surprising how close the houses sit to the road, reflecting a time when travel was by less noisy means than cars.
Who would have thought that there was a major battle in Missouri in 1864, in the small town of Pilot Knob? The hexagonal Fort Davidson, recently clearly of historically inaccurate trees, is a site to behold.
In a last ditch attempt to capture St. Louis from Union forces, a large Confederate force headed north from Arkansas, but were stopped at the earthen parapets of Fort Davidson. The fort is not large, and it is amazing to consider that 1,500 soldiers lived and worked in its confines. Perhaps it is not surprising that such a densely packed force could deliver such withering fire from such a compact site.
The Union abandoned the fort in the middle of the night after a repulsing wave after wave of Confederate soldiers in the fields around the fort. The Union was running low on ammunition, and felt leaving was the best option, after already inflicting over a thousand casualties on the ill-prepared Confederate army.
You can still see the hole where the Union blew up their gunpowder stores in the middle of the night as they escaped through Confederate lines to St. Louis. The Confederate army waited until the next day to investigate what they thought had been an accidental detonation of the gunpowder, only to discover the fort empty.
While a little rough around the edges, the Iron County Courthouse has a certain charm to it.In fact, it reminds me of the recently departed Kahoka courthouse, torn down earlier this year for a new one.
Luckily for the iconic "elephants" at the quarry, their stone was too battered by weather to be of any use to builders.
Consequently, the stones remain where they have rested for millions of years.
Nearby, however, the quarries soon tapped into the distinctive pink granite of the area, cutting and hauling away huge chunks of the mountain for building St. Louis and other nearby cities.
More discarded stone sits in a pile near the quarry; where these stones deemed poor quality, or were they simply left when the site was abandoned, work stopping in progress?
Quarrying occurred all around the outside of the famous elephant boulders, as these stonecutters' signatures suggest.
Throughout the park, the drill holes and rectangular edges of stone outcroppings attest that quarrying was a labor intensive occupation.
Below, a pile of discarded blocks of pink granite sit in a corner of the site, slowly being overcome with vegetation.
Pretty much all of the pink granite you see in St. Louis comes from this quarry or nearby, whether in a church or the stones of the Levee. Below, two test holes were drilled to check on the quality of the granite.
On my recent trip to Elephant Rocks State Park, I spotted a sign for a trail spur that lead to an old engine house, built to house the train locomotives that hauled the distinctive pink granite from the quarry nearby to St. Louis and points beyond.
I guess I assumed it would be red brick, like so much of Missouri's construction, so I was pleasantly surprised to find it built from the same pink granite quarried nearby.
In hindsight, I guess that is pretty obvious, but it is a unique structure nonetheless. Inside, the train tracks still lead away from its front door.
I couldn't figure out what this building was; perhaps it was a general store or something.
Years after the giant failure of the AmerenUE reservoir on Profitt Mountain, nature is just starting to take root again, amidst the giant pink boulders carried down the hill by the water.
Remember, if you hear sirens, start running.
The interior of the Dillard Mill is perfectly preserved, and still runs as it had for over one hundred years.
Tours are offered year-round where you can watch the machinery operate.
Looking out the window, the water of the river pours over the dam with a roar.
Dillard Mill, approximately two hours southwest of St. Louis, sits amongst the rolling foothills of the Ozarks.
Famed for its setting amongst fields and the Huzzah Creek, it is one of the most photogenic sites in Missouri.
The roar of water dominates this part of Missouri, whether it is crashing through a shut-in, onto a waterwheel or over a dam.
The Dillard Mill is actually the second mill on the site, and was active until 1956; the first mill, the Wisdom Mill, burned down in the late 19th Century.
The exterior is actually made up of sheets of tin pressed to look like bricks, which has then been painted red.
The replacement features a turbine, and not a waterwheel like most people are used to seeing at a grist mill.
The mill is deep in the woods near Davisville, Missouri; you can see a satellite image here.
I never get tired of the Chemical Building, with its thousand windows. I hope someday it will find an owner who has the money to renovate it.
At least we can hopefully not have to worry if the building will be torn down. I hope we're over that failed policy in downtown St. Louis.
