Back in the late 1990s, Bob and Joan Rutz bought a big stretch of these Ozark hills with a lake tucked into it, and they called the whole place Living Springs. For a long time, if you bought land out here, the lake just sort of came along with it in people’s minds. According to one of Bob’s sons, Jonathan, Bob wanted residents to be able to use the lake. And for years, the Rutz family let that be so.

That’s changing. And I think it’s a good change.

What the lake means to me

I’ve lived at the Living Springs Log House since 2017, and the lake has been part of almost every day of those years. Early in the morning, before anything else stirs, I like to stand on the deck and watch the water below turn silver as the light comes over the hills. Most mornings our Great Pyrenees, India, and I walk up to the spring, and on the way back I look down at the lake and say a little thank-you. I’ve never owned that water, and I’ve never needed to. Just being able to see it has been a gift.

A conversation with Joel

This week I had a good talk with Joel Rutz. He’s Bob and Joan’s son and one of the four trustees of the Rutz Family Trust, which owns the lake. He told me more and more people have been using the lake and the park lately, and so he’s decided that anyone who buys land out here should check in with him. Nothing fancy. Just come say hello and let him know who you are.

He also talked about the work it takes. A lake doesn’t look after itself. There’s the dam, there’s the park, there’s the everyday upkeep — and only a handful of people have been helping pay for it. Joel mentioned the family might decide to keep access to certain people. Now, that’s my understanding from a friendly conversation, not an announcement, so please don’t take my word as the family’s word. Whatever they decide is theirs to decide.

Why I’m glad about it

Boundaries can feel like a loss at first. But here, they’re a way of taking care. I’m glad there’s something in place to keep the lake in the Rutz Family Trust. I’m glad it stays quiet — it has always been non-motorized boats only, so what you hear out there is paddles, birds, and wind instead of engines. And I’m glad it won’t turn into a place where a crowd of strangers comes and goes without anyone knowing who they are.

I’ve come to see Joel as a kind of steward of Living Springs. He plans to live here for the rest of his life. He loves the land and he loves the people. We’ve needed someone like that, and I’m grateful he’s stepping up. It isn’t an easy job, either. He answers to his brothers and his sister, and when two of them live far away, family decisions take patience.

If you come to live here

Maybe you’ll become friends with Joan and Joel. Maybe you’ll just wave from the road. Nothing is guaranteed, and nobody expects you to be best friends. They simply like to know who’s using the lake — and who’s living here. To me, that’s the old-fashioned kind of neighborliness, and I find it comforting.

One piece of advice from me: if swimming matters to you, plan on your own water. A natural swimming pool — the kind where plants keep the water clean instead of chlorine — or even a simple pond can give you a place to cool off on a hot Ozark afternoon. And a pond has a way of filling up with frogs, dragonflies, and visiting birds before you know it.

The lake may not always be open for swimming. But the view will be there as long as the lake is.

See more of the land — the cave spring, the gardens, the metal building, the swallows — at livingspringsloghouse.com

This piece was written by Patricia, a friend of Barbara’s and a resident of the Living Springs Log House, in collaboration with Claude.ai of Anthropic. Patricia shared her conversation with Joel and her thoughts about it in her own words; Claude helped shape them into a story, keeping the parts Patricia wasn’t sure of clearly marked as her understanding rather than the family’s decision.