by Karon -

Ten Years Later, I’m Back in North Carolina

So I’m back in North Carolina. A state that I called home for three years and have wonderful memories of. It’s also the state where I began writing my lists of “100 Ideas to Do in [Year].”

I have continued to make these lists each year for thirteen years now. It’s something I love to do each year either right before or right after Christmas. I curl up with a blanket, my notebook, and a cup of tea or maybe a glass of wine. I let my heart and imagination run free and begin my list of all the things I would like to do or accomplish in the new year. They may be practical or completely wild ideas.

After New Year rolls around, I set out with my fresh list. It’s like a mini bucket list. And yes, I also have my master bucket list. I began it about twenty years ago.

I’ve always loved adventures and travel, but I had a very full and busy life, so I hadn’t done as much of it as I would have liked to. When I accepted a job teaching for the Department of Defense and moved to North Carolina, I really began to explore.

North Carolina is actually one of my favorite states. It has my favorite U.S. beaches, and you can go from beach to mountains in just a few hours. You can even drive to another state in just a couple of hours depending on where you’re starting from. A little different from Texas, where you can literally drive all day and still be in Texas.

I also have great memories from my time there. It’s where shrimp and grits became one of my favorite meals. It’s where I first went kayaking and tried stand-up paddleboarding (I wasn’t too successful with that one). It’s also where I began to challenge my fear of heights with ziplining, walking on a mile-high pedestrian bridge, and taking trips over some scary bridges. I made new friends, took a ballroom dance class, volunteered with the sea turtle rescue, watched baby sea turtles hatch and head out to sea, and learned to live alone.

Now, ten years, a few countries, and a lot of adventures later, I am back.

I am a different person now. I am a grandmother. Retired. A world traveler. I am stronger and more confident.

I’m mainly here to spend time with my daughter and her family, but since I love to travel and I love North Carolina, I’ll be out visiting some of my favorite places and probably some new ones, too.

My first outing after spending time with Amy was to Jacksonville, where I used to live and work. My first stop was Emerald Isle, where I put my feet in the sand on one of my very favorite beaches. I love the beautiful beaches scattered with shells, the tall grasses that grow wild in the dunes, the salty breeze, and the sound of the waves methodically rolling in. I also love the wooden walkways through the dunes out to the sand and that many have little outdoor showers where you can wash away the sand from your toes.

When I’ve been inland for too long, I start feeling landlocked. So, after being in the high desert of Albuquerque for so long, I was really craving the ocean. The Atlantic beaches feel like home.

Definitely one of my happy places.

The next morning, I got up bright and early and headed for Beaufort (pronounced Bo-fort). Just the sweetest little town, with historic buildings and homes, a boardwalk, boats, fun shops, art galleries, great restaurants, and that quaint small-town feel that I love.

I had sort of forgotten how much I love this little town. I started out wandering along the boardwalk and watched a few people loading up their boats for a day on the water. I took pictures in the early morning light before I headed over to the little coffee shop on the main street for a chai tea latte. One of my favorite little indulgences. Next, I wandered through town and the shops that were open. Before leaving, I drove around just admiring the old historic homes and the waterfront views.

On the way back to Jacksonville, I stopped at Riverside Steak and Seafood in Swansboro for lunch and had my favorite shrimp and grits.

Such a wonderful day.

The next morning, I drove back to Swansboro (another of my favorite small towns) and just walked around and took pictures of the quaint little shops and the old red brick building that I always loved. Later that day, I met up with old friend for dinner at Preston’s Restaurant in Swansboro. Oddly enough, I had never tried this restaurant. After a delicious meal, we walked down the main street to the corner where there is live music every Sunday evening during the summer months.

And it was really a stroke of luck because this was the last music night of the season. The band was really good and the first song they played was the old Lynyrd Skynyrd song Free Bird. Love the music from that era. I’ve never been disappointed by the local live music in North Carolina.

The Summer Music Series in Swansboro was always one of my favorite things to do, and I was so glad that Mary Ann was free for this fun little outing.

I’m so happy that I took this little trip! I had really missed this area and the hotel had a great outdoor pool, where I enjoyed a swim each day. I had more things that I wanted to do, but there just wasn’t enough time in the day to get them all in.

I definitely want to return. There are other friends I want to catch up with, favorite restaurants I want to return to, and more places I want to revisit.

I’ll see you again soon, Jacksonville and the Emerald Coast!

by Karon -

A Last Look at Albuquerque: Tramway, Petroglyphs & Route 66

Before leaving New Mexico, I had a few more things I wanted to see.

I’d been in Albuquerque long enough to know it probably wasn’t going to become one of my favorite places. The summer heat certainly didn’t help. But the longer I stayed and the more I explored, the more I found to appreciate—unexpected murals, quirky Route 66 stops, ancient rock art, and those enormous Sandia Mountains always looming in the background. Some of my favorite discoveries were actually outside the city, but they all added to my experience in New Mexico.

So, before packing up and moving on, I decided to have one last look around.

I decided to see Albuquerque from above.

I’d been looking at the Sandia Mountains for weeks, so riding the Sandia Peak Tramway seemed like a fitting way to finally get a closer look.

The tram travels more than two miles up the mountain, climbing to more than 10,000 feet. As it rose above the city, Albuquerque seemed to get smaller and smaller below me. The Rio Grande stretched across the valley, and the desert landscape spread out in every direction.

I’ve seen plenty of beautiful views during this nomad year, but there was something special about seeing Albuquerque from this perspective. From the ground, the city can feel sprawling and a little chaotic. From the mountain, it looked peaceful.

And, thankfully, considerably cooler.

The tram ride made me think about how sometimes you just need to change your perspective.

Literally.

If the tram gave me a new perspective on Albuquerque, my visit to Petroglyph National Monument took me in a completely different direction—back hundreds of years.

The monument protects thousands of images carved into the dark volcanic rocks along Albuquerque’s West Mesa. Some were created by Indigenous people, while others were carved by Spanish settlers centuries ago.

I followed the trail, looking closely at the rocks for images that can be surprisingly easy to miss.

A bird.

A figure.

A symbol.

A handprint.

It was fascinating to think about someone standing in this very place hundreds of years ago, carefully carving an image into the rock.

There was no grand building. No elaborate exhibit. Just rocks, desert, sky—and these little pieces of history still sitting right where they were left.

I liked that.

Of course, I couldn’t leave Albuquerque without a little more time on Route 66.

One thing I did enjoy about Albuquerque was how often something unexpected caught my eye. You didn’t always have to be looking for an attraction. Sometimes you just turned a corner and found something worth stopping for.

A mural.

An old neon sign.

A vintage building.

A sculpture that made me wonder what the artist was thinking.

And then there’s Route 66 itself, running through the heart of the city along Central Avenue.

Albuquerque has embraced its stretch of the Mother Road with murals, public art, historic signs, and plenty of colorful reminders of its past. In fact, the city’s new Route 66 Remixed project has turned an 18-mile stretch of the road into an art-filled journey featuring murals, sculptures, and other creative installations.

That felt very Albuquerque to me.

History, art, kitsch, culture, and a little bit of weirdness all mixed together.

I stopped for pictures whenever something caught my eye. Some were planned. Others were completely random.

Those might have been my favorite kind.

Looking back at my time in Albuquerque, I realize I probably won’t remember the city as a collection of major attractions.

I’ll remember the little things.

The colorful murals I stumbled across while driving around.

The Route 66 signs.

The quirky roadside touches.

The mountains appearing at the end of a street.

The enormous sky.

The petroglyphs hiding in the volcanic rocks.

And that first view from the tram when the entire city opened up below me.

Maybe that’s what travel does sometimes.

We arrive somewhere expecting to decide whether we like it or not. We make our lists and visit the places we’re supposed to visit. And then, somewhere along the way, the place becomes less about the things we checked off and more about the little moments we remember.

Albuquerque and I never became great friends.

But I found things here that I loved.

Art.

History.

Beautiful landscapes.

A few unexpected adventures.

And, as has happened so many times during this nomad year, I found a little more of myself along the way.

So this is my last New Mexico post—for now, anyway.

I’m leaving with a full camera roll, a few more stories, and the feeling that maybe Albuquerque didn’t need to steal my heart after all.

Maybe it was enough to simply give me something to remember.

by Karon -

A Little Church with a Big Story: El Santuario de Chimayó

I had heard about the little church in Chimayó, New Mexico, and knew it was supposed to be special. Still, I wasn’t quite prepared for how much I would love it.

El Santuario de Chimayó sits along the High Road to Taos, surrounded by the rugged beauty of northern New Mexico. From the outside, it doesn’t look particularly grand. It’s a small adobe church with simple lines and a weathered appearance that seems to belong exactly where it is.

But there is something about this place.

The present chapel was completed in 1816, but the land had been considered sacred long before the church was built. The area was important to the Tewa people, who believed the surrounding springs and landscape had healing properties. Later, Spanish settlers brought Catholic traditions to the area, creating the layers of history and faith that are still part of Chimayó today.

The story behind the sanctuary is almost as fascinating as the church itself.

According to tradition, in 1810 a local man named Bernardo Abeyta saw a mysterious light coming from the ground on Good Friday. When he investigated, he discovered a crucifix buried in the earth.

The crucifix was taken to a nearby church, but the next morning it was gone. Somehow, it had returned to the spot where Abeyta had found it.

The crucifix was moved again.

Again, it returned.

Eventually, people decided that the crucifix wanted to remain in Chimayó, and Abeyta petitioned for a chapel to be built at the site. That chapel eventually became the sanctuary that stands there today.

I love stories like this—not necessarily because I know what I believe about them, but because they become part of the character of a place. And this little church has had more than 200 years for its stories to settle into the walls.

Inside, the sanctuary is intimate and beautifully decorated with traditional New Mexican religious folk art. The carved and painted santos, the altar, and the handmade details gave me plenty to look at. Nothing felt overly polished or grand. It felt personal and deeply rooted in the culture of the area.

One of the most unusual parts of the sanctuary is a tiny room called El Pocito, or “the little well.” A small hole in the floor contains earth that pilgrims have traditionally taken for its healing properties.

The tradition goes back generations, and people still come here seeking healing and comfort.

There is something especially moving about that. Whether someone believes the earth itself has healing power or simply finds comfort in the faith and ritual surrounding it, people have been coming here for a very long time with their hopes, worries, gratitude, and prayers.

I also visited the nearby Holy Child of Atocha Chapel, often called the children’s chapel. It was smaller and quieter, but filled with its own interesting details. I loved wandering around the grounds and taking in all the little details.

And that’s really what I enjoyed most about Chimayó. It wasn’t just the church itself. It was the whole setting—the adobe buildings, the courtyards, the mountains in the distance, and the feeling that I was standing in a place where generations of people had come before me.

I know I didn’t see everything.

There are other historic chapels in the area, and I didn’t explore nearly as much of Chimayó as I could have. In fact, learning more about the history afterward made me realize just how much I missed.

Maybe that’s okay.

Sometimes a place leaves you with a little unfinished business.

I’d like to return during Holy Week someday and experience the pilgrimage to El Santuario de Chimayó. Thousands of people make their way to the sanctuary on foot, some walking many miles as an act of faith, gratitude, or a search for healing. I think there would be something powerful about being part of that journey—not simply arriving at the church, but experiencing the walking, the quiet moments, and the shared purpose along the way.

For now, though, I’m grateful I stopped.

I went expecting to see an old New Mexico church. Instead, I found a place where history, art, faith, and tradition have been woven together for generations.

Perhaps that’s what I loved most about Chimayó. It reminded me that sometimes the places that stay with us aren’t the grandest or most spectacular. Sometimes they’re the quiet ones that invite us to slow down, look a little closer, and wonder about all the people who stood there before us.

I have a feeling I’ll be standing there again someday.

by Karon -

My August Project Wasn’t a Project at All

My August project wasn’t a project at all.

August turned out to be a month of movement. I stayed in three different states and drove through five others, covering around 2,040 miles. I knew it would be a month of transitions, packing and unpacking, and lots of time behind the wheel, so I decided to plan most of my free days around family.

I spent time with my mom creating art for the local county fair. I helped her create two pieces: one was a painting of flowers in a cowboy boot, which seemed appropriate for a fair. The other was a paper collage of a bird, since my mom loves the birds that come to her feeders outside her window. We had fun working on the projects together, and I was so proud when she came home with two ribbons, including a Best of Show! We also enjoyed a couple of special meals together.

I took each of my three Texas grandsons on an individual date. They each got to choose an activity and a restaurant for lunch. I ended up with pizza for lunch on two of the three days, but it was so worth it. I loved having that one-on-one time with each of them and getting to see what they wanted to do.

Over those three days, I visited two different museums, one playground, and the duck pond three times. One chose the Veterans Museum because he loves everything military, even though we’d been there before. The littlest one chose the playground in my old neighborhood because it was always his favorite thing to do when he would visit. And the oldest opted for the Sam Houston Museum since neither of us had been before.

We almost always visit the duck pond on outings. It’s the same duck pond where I took my kids when they were little, so it’s fun to take my grandkids there now. It has a huge cypress tree that I always take pictures of the boys standing beside. It’s become a bit of a tradition, even though they don’t always want to cooperate. We also enjoyed some lovely family meals and plenty of time together at home.

All those miles on the road were worth it when I reached my final destination and got to spend more time with my daughter and her family. Because of the distance, I don’t get to spend as much time with these two grandsons, so I thoroughly enjoyed having several days to simply be Grandma—or “Christmas Tree,” as they call me. It’s my grandma name, given to me on a whim by the older one, and somehow it stuck. I love it! We ended the month with a birthday celebration for my youngest grandson.

Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t plan a project for August. Instead, I let the month unfold into something I hadn’t planned for: a month filled with precious time with my family.

by Karon -

Santa Fe Had Been Waiting for Me

Santa Fe had been waiting for me.

Well, not literally. But ever since my first visit a few years ago, I had been wanting to go back and give this fascinating little city more than a quick visit. There was too much I hadn’t seen and too many streets I hadn’t wandered.

So when I found myself spending several weeks in Albuquerque, I knew Santa Fe was finally getting its second chance. Just an hour up the road, it was close enough for a few day trips—and I took full advantage.

Over several visits, I wandered around the historic plaza, stepped inside the famous Loretto Chapel, spent hours exploring the galleries along Canyon Road, and discovered a few local favorites along the way. And after several trips to Santa Fe, I still wasn’t sure I’d seen enough.

The Plaza de Santa Fe was one of the places I found myself returning to. For more than four centuries, it has been at the heart of the city. Surrounded by historic buildings, shops, galleries, restaurants, and plenty of places to sit and watch the world go by, it was easy to spend hours simply wandering.

Just off the Plaza is one of Santa Fe’s most famous landmarks: Loretto Chapel. On one of my visits, I stopped inside to see the mysterious spiral staircase that has fascinated visitors for generations. According to legend, the staircase was built by a mysterious carpenter who appeared after the Sisters of Loretto prayed for a way to reach the choir loft. The staircase’s unusual construction—and the mystery surrounding its builder—has led to its reputation as a miraculous one.

Canyon Road was another stop I made more than once. It’s an art lover’s paradise, with gallery after gallery to explore. I enjoyed chatting with gallery owners and managers, many of whom had fascinating stories about the art, the artists, and how they had personally ended up in Santa Fe. They were also happy to share recommendations for favorite local restaurants and must-do experiences around the city.

By the end of each visit, I was exhausted and maybe a little overstimulated by the abundance of art, artists, and styles. Then again, I may have felt that way every time I left Santa Fe. It’s a city overflowing with culture, history, and art—and apparently, I needed a little time to process it all.

If I visit again, I would like to return in the fall, when the leaves are changing color and the air is cooler. Santa Fe cloaked in amber hues would be a whole different experience. And I could build my trip around a painting workshop, with plenty of time to create, connect with other creative people, and maybe even make a few new friends along the way.