When Lucinda and I went to Charleston to attend a wedding, we went searching for the ghost of Annabel Lee.
They were fighting fellow countrymen. But they were also fighting the elements. In the winter of 1779-1780, Washington's Army set to work building huts to weather the winter at Morristown, New Jersey.
A sunflower field...broad leaves whisper...obscures your view...stare at you as you pass...
Travelers need two things: food and books. Everything else is optional.
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Not once upon a time, but here and now, two adventurers step off the trail. They climb down into a gully in search of a path improperly remembered. Careful clambering over rocks demands all of their attention. The spiderwebs at head height take them unawares. Fine strands cling to their faces, settle in their hair.… Continue reading Enlightened by darkness and blinded by light
The coast of Maine is dotted with quaint small towns that come alive during tourist season. Along the commercial strip their streets are choked with gawkers and shoppers buying lobster rolls and pine scented candles and painted seashells. Belfast is one of those towns. Picturesque and unassuming. It sits just off route one at the… Continue reading How to Escape the Tourist Trap
“Did you know there’s a graveyard on County Woods Road?” My father asked me. I’d driven by it literally thousands of times and I’d never seen it. Never noticed it was there. A cemetery nestled in the woods between two houses on a country road in Newport. We couldn’t see it from the road. All… Continue reading The Mystery of the Forgotten Cemetery
Lucinda and I have been to forts before, but never one so well preserved as Fort Knox in Prospect, Maine. While its like-named cousin stores gold reserves, Maine's Fort Knox is a repository of history – and ghost stories. Descend down the stairs of the outer keep and the darkness closes around you. Outside it may… Continue reading Ghost Stories Echoing in the Darkness
The living and the dead both leave their mark on a city. During our tour of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Lucinda and I sought out places where the voices of those gone before could most readily be heard. We began at St. John's Episcopal Church. Built in 1807 on the footprint of a wooden church that… Continue reading Memories of the Living. Echoes of the Dead.