You really don't need a sign to tell you, even if you've been here for a small time, the green in the gate, sheltering unseen livestock will say enough.
As will the barn under the wires, agriculture no longer isolated from technology.
Vigilant dogs under a shade tree can bark it to you, "This is Arkansas."
Where pride can come from the simplest acts like saving a box turtle and Jesus is consistently brought to your attention on a sign.
Or maybe a road in a heavenly forest, well-traveled, rugged, natural, and necessary.
And the people who are conscious of boundaries will all tell you, "This is Arkansas."
Rural is not backward, it contains its own sophistication and the colors in a small valley make it impossible to take fields for granted.
The prominent reminders of hard work emergency-response on tap in isolated suburbs say it, "This is Arkansas."
Late in the afternoon, people gather in places humble on the outside, but America reflected on the inside. All who enter are family.
South of the city and northeast of the city where veterans gather to straighten out the world, the voices of men and women who traveled to meet trouble, but returned to the state of abundance and sharing.
The mountains of the west give way to the fields in the east and the flatness with its own particular form of beauty say it, "This is Arkansas."
The man-made monuments that say hello or just up the road that say goodbye. Or over a bridge that fill a space that begs for personality and color.
Back ends of businesses eking out their own version of the American Dream. It was there between the boards in the fence or down that dusty road that leads to a bumper crop of hope.
Which means when you finally cross the river you may leave Arkansas, but it never leaves you.