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A certain bird has been following me up the Trace. It rattles into trees. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of a red head or streaks of white.
A woodpecker.
I don’t know what kind.Continue Reading
Sixty miles walked. Four days. Two of them on the tail end of Winter Storm Titan. Other than a nagging blister on my sore left pinky toe, I’m trudging through the abuse. I owe huge thanks to two tough Southern ladies. Miss Ethel, owner of Hope Farm in Natchez, gotContinue Reading
So, what are Dad and Alice up to while I’m plodding along on the Natchez Trace? Besides eating fried chicken and not bringing me any?Continue Reading
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