The Aftermath of A Tempest Soaked Forest

Wren faces a storm-ravaged Ouachita Forest and finds a spark with Shelley amid recovery.

A Tempest Soaked Ouachita Forest: The Aftermath.
A sequel to

STATIC

The Ouachita Forest In Tempest  (E) A stormy Ouachita forest rages; lightning strikes, revealing GOD’s glory in vivid prose. #2340575 by Noisy Wren

I came out of my front door and stood on my porch on Polk County Road 171, where Hwy 8 meets the Ouachita National Forest. I was staring into a humid, clear dawn after this late May 2025 storm hammered Mena, Arkansas. The Mountain Fork River, a stone’s throw from my son Josh, and daughter-in-law, Katrina’s place where I also live, roared muddy, its banks choked with broken pines and sodden ferns, far from the clear stream we’d fished when he was growing up. Wolf Pen Gap’s ATV trails, where I burned rubber in my teens, were a rain soaked, red-clay swamp, useless even for diehards. I’m Wren, born to loggers, but I traded my saws for stories, spinning the Ouachita’s soul as The Noisy Wren. My boots scuffed familiar dirt, but the drowned trails and battered river hit like a punch to my chest. This forest raised me, and I wondered if it, or Mena, would pull through? Of course, most likely, like champions, as it’s filled with hardy folks not given to defeat.

The forest’s heart got mauled a bit. Ouachita’s 1.8 million acres of pine-hickory stands lay gashed. Old trees were toppled by the gale, leaving the understory scorched by the sudden sun. I’ve sketched the Ouachita stream-bed salamander in my notebooks, but its rocky homes, like those along the Mountain Fork River, were silt-clogged now. Bears and deer would stumble over blocked paths, probably looking as lost as I felt. Lake Ouachita, where I cast lines with my grandpa, shimmered with a silty haze, which is bad for bream and bass. Spring storms, like April’s downpours, likely dropped 3 inches of rain overnight, soaking the soils and sparking rocky landslides on its steep ridges. Without exact data, I’m using regional patterns, but the forest’s scars — the mud, splintered boughs — tell a raw tale I capture with words.

Mena got hammered, too, and that’s where I met Shelley, a hot little number from Plano, Texas. She’s 222 degrees of gorgeous, and my heart fluttered when our eyes met. The Ouachita National Recreation Trail, my spot for sparking stories, was a wreck. The footbridges near Denby Point were washed out. At Lake Ouachita State Park, 58 Class AAA sites were flooded, with campers likely bailing as the power died. Power outages are common here when the sky opens and pours out its fury. I don’t blame them; It’s quite frightening to be in an RV when the Tempest roars down on you! Hwy 8, my link to town, was slick, stranding trucks and cars alike. I joined volunteers piling sandbags along low streets, and there she was — Shelley, a newcomer with sharp eyes and a laugh that cut through the drizzle. She tossed me a sandbag, her grin teasing, and something sparked, like a flint sparking dry tinder to a quick flame. We traded quips about the mud, her voice warm against the river’s roar, and I caught myself staring, my heart racing faster than the Mountain Fork. For a moment, the storm’s weight lifted, and I wondered if this forest, like us, could find new light. I didn’t have to wonder long, but that’s another story…

By week’s end, hope had stirred. The ferns pushed up in new clearings, and birdsongs cracked the hush. The Mountain Fork’s waters cleared some, which is great news for its fish. I hiked to a rise near Wolf Pen Gap and witnessed a rainbow cutting across a bright sky. This forest has survived worse — 2000’s ice storms and recent wildfires, and it’ll heal from this, too. Mena’s lights flickered on, and I, who once meshed with loggers, found my place in the cleanup, with my stories now heavy with this storm’s weight. From my home, where Hwy 8 meets the wild, I know what’s next: fixing the trails, checking the wildlife, and bracing for another tempest. The Ouachita’s spirit, like mine, is rooted deep, and we’ll stand tall, no matter what the skies unleash.