Roads Less Traveled

I am looking over a high stone wall at Graceland, once the home of the King of Rock N’ Roll, Elvis Aaron Presley.

Continue reading →

I am passing by the cotton fields in northwest Mississippi that mark the home of my ancestors.  The little white puffs hidden in the thick branches look like a light snow when viewed from afar.  I’m told it’s late in the season for picking.  Soon all you’ll see is the red clay soil of the South.

Continue reading →

There’s an explosion of flavor in my mouth and I don’t want it to end.  Jonathan and I are dining at Mr. B’s in the Big Easy,

Continue reading →