Tom Ryan, Author

Late in the afternoon of the day we left Saint Simons Island and walked across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, we were on our way to the hotel in Meridian, Mississippi, the gas tank was nearly empty. We pulled into a Shell station where I noticed a tired fellow park his rumbling and dented Pontiac Grand Am a few pumps away. He shuffled into the gas station with money in his fist.

Our visit with Mr. Lincoln

Traveling into a Winter Weather Advisory

This is Ava. We encountered Ava and her two dogs while walking through the mist-shrouded ghost woods in Provincetown. That’s not their name, but it’s how they have always felt to me. This is a place that feels rife with witchcraft and mystery. Just look at these twisted, tangled trees, looking like so many bony hands reaching up from the grave.

We never spend enough time in New Mexico because of the month we visit. Then comes Arizona, so varied and historical, from two of the fastest-growing metropolitan areas in the country to the ancient lands of parched and colored rock. We are humbled to be in Navajo Nation. Here a proud civilization’s roots run deep.

Meeting Roger & Lucy

Oh, Sonoran Desert, how I love you. In the winter, at least when it is not hot, and the rattlesnakes remain asleep and dream of warmth. Few things in this world thrill me more than a walk among the magnificent Saguaro souls as they rise tall and proud. They are the very symbols of the American West, yet they can only be found in this relatively small area.

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