Advertisements Quiet as a mouse, I close the door to the Flagstaff apartment. It is twenty degrees outside as I sit in the truck waiting for the windows to defrost. The snow atop Mount Humphrey is glistening in the moonlight. An hour later, just outside of Camp Verde, I find the dirt road that leadsContinue reading “The Flume at Fossil Creek”
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The Flume
Advertisements I didn’t know that the poet Robert Frost had one of his homes in New Hampshire, or that most of his poetry was written about life in New England. Akin to his infamous poem, it seemed that the road not taken by myself led me to an unknown destination that made all of theContinue reading “The Flume”