no summary per author

no summary per author

A snapshot of the 50 states. Includes each state�s tree, flag, flower and bird, along with statistics and interesting bits of information about each state that will tempt the traveler to visit.

A snapshot of the 50 states. Includes each state�s tree, flag, flower and bird, along with statistics and interesting bits of information about each state that will tempt the traveler to visit.

A snapshot of the 50 states. Includes each state�s tree, flag, flower and bird, along with statistics and interesting bits of information about each state that will tempt the traveler to visit.

This book has lots of interesting imaginative characters with whom I have become acquainted, during the course of this writing. There is my friend, Buddy, who I met in the Morikami Gardens in Del Ray Beach, one day. He is an adorable egret and I am sure you will love reading about him. Then there is Sammy, the sea horse, who I met while visiting the Anna Kolb Nature Center. He kept on starring at me and his eyes kept looking after me as if he was trying to communicate. You will see him in the Florida Chapter as well. He is cute guy who kept on looking at me and trying to make friends. In southern Florida chapter, I also met and write about our friend Cara�s peacock who is quite an interesting bird. I call her the poetic peacock. You will like her poems, I am sure. In Seattle I will introduce to the only villain in the book. He is Thomas, the Troll, a Norwegian car-crusher who snaps up automobiles along the Interstate highways out west. I met him as he was trying to grab up our car under I-5. You can see him under the Seattle Interstate as he holds our car in his grip. You will see me trying to talk him out of crushing our rent-a- car. Any of these pictures could have been on the cover but I chose the one with my friends in the refl ection from our Florida apartment. I set up each section of the book with a picture that I felt showed an interesting view of that section. When you look at the Chapter about Pittsburgh, please study the picture of the bride coming home and see whether you can understand where the bride�s house is.

This book has lots of interesting imaginative characters with whom I have become acquainted, during the course of this writing. There is my friend, Buddy, who I met in the Morikami Gardens in Del Ray Beach, one day. He is an adorable egret and I am sure you will love reading about him. Then there is Sammy, the sea horse, who I met while visiting the Anna Kolb Nature Center. He kept on starring at me and his eyes kept looking after me as if he was trying to communicate. You will see him in the Florida Chapter as well. He is cute guy who kept on looking at me and trying to make friends. In southern Florida chapter, I also met and write about our friend Cara�s peacock who is quite an interesting bird. I call her the poetic peacock. You will like her poems, I am sure. In Seattle I will introduce to the only villain in the book. He is Thomas, the Troll, a Norwegian car-crusher who snaps up automobiles along the Interstate highways out west. I met him as he was trying to grab up our car under I-5. You can see him under the Seattle Interstate as he holds our car in his grip. You will see me trying to talk him out of crushing our rent-a- car. Any of these pictures could have been on the cover but I chose the one with my friends in the refl ection from our Florida apartment. I set up each section of the book with a picture that I felt showed an interesting view of that section. When you look at the Chapter about Pittsburgh, please study the picture of the bride coming home and see whether you can understand where the bride�s house is.

The pull of the land on the soul. The healing of the heart from the Source. For thousands of years, Red Rock Country has been a spiritual haven for the indigenous peoples of North America and settlers from across the world. Author Marianna Harris travels the Grand Circle of the Colorado Plateau to bring you the mysteries of the “living landscape” of the American desert southwest. Join a Continental Drifter on adventures filled with humor and insight in confronting the human condition as she uncovers the transformative, healing power of the spirit through nature. Feel the red earth, red rock monoliths, desert sun and summer rainstorms permeate your consciousness and soothe your mind and heart. Nature. Geology. “It’s not just science.”

The pull of the land on the soul. The healing of the heart from the Source. For thousands of years, Red Rock Country has been a spiritual haven for the indigenous peoples of North America and settlers from across the world. Author Marianna Harris travels the Grand Circle of the Colorado Plateau to bring you the mysteries of the “living landscape” of the American desert southwest. Join a Continental Drifter on adventures filled with humor and insight in confronting the human condition as she uncovers the transformative, healing power of the spirit through nature. Feel the red earth, red rock monoliths, desert sun and summer rainstorms permeate your consciousness and soothe your mind and heart. Nature. Geology. “It’s not just science.”

The pull of the land on the soul. The healing of the heart from the Source. For thousands of years, Red Rock Country has been a spiritual haven for the indigenous peoples of North America and settlers from across the world. Author Marianna Harris travels the Grand Circle of the Colorado Plateau to bring you the mysteries of the “living landscape” of the American desert southwest. Join a Continental Drifter on adventures filled with humor and insight in confronting the human condition as she uncovers the transformative, healing power of the spirit through nature. Feel the red earth, red rock monoliths, desert sun and summer rainstorms permeate your consciousness and soothe your mind and heart. Nature. Geology. “It’s not just science.”

We were riding on top of the world. We were two women in our fifties and we probably should have been anywhere other than where we were at that moment. The scenery was spectacular, but I was beginning to wonder if it was worth dying for . . . literally. The loose rocks and tight switchbacks had cost us precious time. This was not a place we wanted to get caught after dark. Edie and I rode in silence as we negotiated the treacherous footing. We had known we would face danger on this ride, but I had never envisioned anything like the scenario we were currently dealing with. My senses seemed cross wired. At a time when I should have logically been bordering on panic, I found myself engulfed in an eerie sense of calm. Fear was a luxury we couldn’t afford at the moment. If we got off this mountain alive, there would be plenty of time to be scared as we recalled the ordeal. The trail was incredibly narrow. The climb had been steep and rugged. We would reach an altitude in excess of seven thousand four hundred feet as we rode the crest of Mt. Francis. On our immediate left, a sheer rock wall rose vertically with occasional outcroppings that jutted into the trail. Our knees, at times, rubbed the craggy rock face. A glance to the right brought no comfort. A severe drop off afforded us a view of the tops of trees, hundreds of feet below. We were riding on a trail that was no more than a narrow ledge on the face of the mountain. For some reason known only to them, both horses insisted on walking along the extreme outer edge of the trail. They seemed to feel more comfortable on the edge, rather than being crowded by the wall. Both Edie and I found ourselves sitting off center and leaning slightly toward the wall. If our horses lost their footing, we hoped to be able to jump clear of them and land on the trail. A lump the size of a softball threatened to choke me each time I heard a piece of the trail crumble beneath our horse’s feet, sending rock and dirt tumbling over the edge. We had reached a point of no return. We had no idea what lay ahead of us . . . there was no way to turn around . . . no way to back the horses out of where we were . . . and at this point, dismounting was a physical impossibility due to the close proximity of the rock face and the narrow width of the trail. We both knew that we were in a potentially life threatening situation. If a cougar or a snake spooked the horses, we would all have a one way ticket to the rocky bottom of the canyon far below. That gruesome thought was still in my mind when our bad situation grew decidedly more complicated. As I focused on the trail ahead, my mind rejected what my eyes could clearly see. Thirty feet ahead of us, the trail simply disappeared! All I could see beyond that point was air . . . and lots of it. I wondered if Edie, who rode only a few feet behind me, saw what I saw . . . She did.

We were riding on top of the world. We were two women in our fifties and we probably should have been anywhere other than where we were at that moment. The scenery was spectacular, but I was beginning to wonder if it was worth dying for . . . literally. The loose rocks and tight switchbacks had cost us precious time. This was not a place we wanted to get caught after dark. Edie and I rode in silence as we negotiated the treacherous footing. We had known we would face danger on this ride, but I had never envisioned anything like the scenario we were currently dealing with. My senses seemed cross wired. At a time when I should have logically been bordering on panic, I found myself engulfed in an eerie sense of calm. Fear was a luxury we couldn’t afford at the moment. If we got off this mountain alive, there would be plenty of time to be scared as we recalled the ordeal. The trail was incredibly narrow. The climb had been steep and rugged. We would reach an altitude in excess of seven thousand four hundred feet as we rode the crest of Mt. Francis. On our immediate left, a sheer rock wall rose vertically with occasional outcroppings that jutted into the trail. Our knees, at times, rubbed the craggy rock face. A glance to the right brought no comfort. A severe drop off afforded us a view of the tops of trees, hundreds of feet below. We were riding on a trail that was no more than a narrow ledge on the face of the mountain. For some reason known only to them, both horses insisted on walking along the extreme outer edge of the trail. They seemed to feel more comfortable on the edge, rather than being crowded by the wall. Both Edie and I found ourselves sitting off center and leaning slightly toward the wall. If our horses lost their footing, we hoped to be able to jump clear of them and land on the trail. A lump the size of a softball threatened to choke me each time I heard a piece of the trail crumble beneath our horse’s feet, sending rock and dirt tumbling over the edge. We had reached a point of no return. We had no idea what lay ahead of us . . . there was no way to turn around . . . no way to back the horses out of where we were . . . and at this point, dismounting was a physical impossibility due to the close proximity of the rock face and the narrow width of the trail. We both knew that we were in a potentially life threatening situation. If a cougar or a snake spooked the horses, we would all have a one way ticket to the rocky bottom of the canyon far below. That gruesome thought was still in my mind when our bad situation grew decidedly more complicated. As I focused on the trail ahead, my mind rejected what my eyes could clearly see. Thirty feet ahead of us, the trail simply disappeared! All I could see beyond that point was air . . . and lots of it. I wondered if Edie, who rode only a few feet behind me, saw what I saw . . . She did.

We were riding on top of the world. We were two women in our fifties and we probably should have been anywhere other than where we were at that moment. The scenery was spectacular, but I was beginning to wonder if it was worth dying for . . . literally. The loose rocks and tight switchbacks had cost us precious time. This was not a place we wanted to get caught after dark. Edie and I rode in silence as we negotiated the treacherous footing. We had known we would face danger on this ride, but I had never envisioned anything like the scenario we were currently dealing with. My senses seemed cross wired. At a time when I should have logically been bordering on panic, I found myself engulfed in an eerie sense of calm. Fear was a luxury we couldn’t afford at the moment. If we got off this mountain alive, there would be plenty of time to be scared as we recalled the ordeal. The trail was incredibly narrow. The climb had been steep and rugged. We would reach an altitude in excess of seven thousand four hundred feet as we rode the crest of Mt. Francis. On our immediate left, a sheer rock wall rose vertically with occasional outcroppings that jutted into the trail. Our knees, at times, rubbed the craggy rock face. A glance to the right brought no comfort. A severe drop off afforded us a view of the tops of trees, hundreds of feet below. We were riding on a trail that was no more than a narrow ledge on the face of the mountain. For some reason known only to them, both horses insisted on walking along the extreme outer edge of the trail. They seemed to feel more comfortable on the edge, rather than being crowded by the wall. Both Edie and I found ourselves sitting off center and leaning slightly toward the wall. If our horses lost their footing, we hoped to be able to jump clear of them and land on the trail. A lump the size of a softball threatened to choke me each time I heard a piece of the trail crumble beneath our horse’s feet, sending rock and dirt tumbling over the edge. We had reached a point of no return. We had no idea what lay ahead of us . . . there was no way to turn around . . . no way to back the horses out of where we were . . . and at this point, dismounting was a physical impossibility due to the close proximity of the rock face and the narrow width of the trail. We both knew that we were in a potentially life threatening situation. If a cougar or a snake spooked the horses, we would all have a one way ticket to the rocky bottom of the canyon far below. That gruesome thought was still in my mind when our bad situation grew decidedly more complicated. As I focused on the trail ahead, my mind rejected what my eyes could clearly see. Thirty feet ahead of us, the trail simply disappeared! All I could see beyond that point was air . . . and lots of it. I wondered if Edie, who rode only a few feet behind me, saw what I saw . . . She did.

His notes are about his travels last year; he followed the migration of waterfowl from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. He started this book first just to keep track of what he had to do to start and finish this trip of a life time. As the trip became more interesting with every mile in between driving and hunting and eating this book is about hunting waterfowl as much as it is about the different cultures of the different parts of the country. The further south he went the more diverse the cultures appeared He literally met people from all over the world during this trip. This book is directed towards Hunters dog owners and people who like to travel. This was really a trip of a lifetime for him

His notes are about his travels last year; he followed the migration of waterfowl from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. He started this book first just to keep track of what he had to do to start and finish this trip of a life time. As the trip became more interesting with every mile in between driving and hunting and eating this book is about hunting waterfowl as much as it is about the different cultures of the different parts of the country. The further south he went the more diverse the cultures appeared He literally met people from all over the world during this trip. This book is directed towards Hunters dog owners and people who like to travel. This was really a trip of a lifetime for him