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A haunted ruin. An ancient highway. Faint swishes of skirts through corridors. A cacophony of whispered crushes mixed with bird song.

According to the Daughters of the American Revolution, Elizabeth Female Academy was the first college for women in America. Whether that’s true or not, I saw a scene there on a chill morning in October. It played out like technicolor on the side of ragged brick.

All that was missing was a very special character.Continue Reading

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All Dad could talk about was fried chicken. Somewhere around Mile Marker 8 or 9, Dad and Alice found me. Sweaty. Disheveled.

I’d just been chased by a horse. Yes. Really. I expected to have to dodge wild animals on the Natchez Trace, but NOT horse animals.

Anyway.
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