After taking some shots, and determining the lay of the land, we drive around to the visitor’s center, and go in with Trixie in tow – here she performs the role of service dog to near perfection, no doubt because it is too hot to be stubborn for long. I imagine Mr. Twain would approve of a clever little dog like Trixie paying this place a visit.
The center includes a timeline of Twain’s illustrious life, has a printing press he may have used, and a grand unrealized memorial to celebrate his Centennial – it was made up in the Great Depression, and with no money, there was no memorial build. Only the model remains.
Outside we explored the cluster of houses that Twain frequented and inspired his tales of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. Atop a modest mound was the sparsely appointed house of Huck Finn, two rooms with two fireplaces at least – and little else beyond the bare wood boards with flaking white paint; a truly dilapidated shell that reflected the humble hardscrabble origins of that character.