Kathy Bassett's column, "The View from Maybell," appears in the Saturday Morning Press.
Craig Greystone actually had its early start down the road to the north about a mile or two behind the big dry knob you see at the forks of county roads 10 and 12.
Later, it was moved to its present location.
There were about four log cabins behind the house. Once, when I was visiting there, I saw an old saddle hanging from the rafters and it had U.S. Army stamped on the back. Of course, people ransacked the place terribly and it didn't stay there long.
One of the previous newcomers that purchased Greystone made many "un-friends."
He gave the old post office boxes to the Jarvie Place. Then, he got wild and wooly one night and in a stupor, burned down all the history of Greystone. The old house, store, post office : everything was gone. The only thing standing today is the old chimney that was in the living room of the house, and there are two "unknown" babies buried there. The little town, population of two, Greystone as we knew it, no longer exists.
As more properties sold in Greystone, times changed. There was no more going anywhere one pleased because, in the first place, other folk's properties and personal things should be respected. So it soon became evident that if we wanted to go in a certain area, we would ask permission before entering.
I think our first abrupt experience at how fast things were changing in Greystone was when we had a whole bunch of company show up one week during an exceptionally hot summer.
We had to haul water at that time, so we didn't have too much.
Our visitors included five kids who were complaining about the heat, so we decided to do what we'd always done in years past - we loaded them all up in the back of the pickup and went barreling over to the old Pete Perusic place.
There were a couple of beautiful springs to die for that my girls had swam in for years.
As we went flying down the road past the old cabin, dust a swirlin', we noticed a couple of people standing there looking at the cabin. So, of course, we stopped. I often wondered, and still do to this day, what they thought to see an old clunker of a truck come ripping into the yard with people, kids and dogs hanging out all over.
I mean these folks were dressed to the nines and here we were, a bunch of Greystone hillbillies.
We said howdy and hello and told them we were just on our way over to the springs to go swimming as we had done in years past. The couple walked up to us and very politely informed us that they were now the new owners of the property.
Boy were we stunned.
Well, we apologized for the interruption and told them we wouldn't bother them.
I have to say that the couple was very nice and told us we could go ahead and swim there if we wanted to, but some cows had made a horrible mess and the water wasn't very clean.
We decided against it and went back home. I got out a big old canner, filled it with some water and the kids dunked their heads all afternoon.
However, things just sort of closed in.
Houses and cabins went up. Fences were built. Gates were erected. "No Trespassing" signs were hung.
Oh, people were nice enough to one another, but it just isn't the same as back when there were wild untamed days. Now instead of hearing the voices on the wind from the old bygone days, you hear present day sounds: hammers, saws, people yelling, dogs barking, vehicles and ATVs traveling up and down the roads. But, and this is what brought everyone in, I reckon, you still get to enjoy the sounds of the elk bugling, the coyotes howling, the hoot owls and the night hawks along with the other wild animals.
It is still a place where one can light up a big bonfire in the front yard at night and sit and enjoy the stars.
We no longer live at Greystone, but we still live close by. There is plenty of history being made today in and around Greystone, and I would imagine that someday there will be another book written about it.