Saying Goodbye: Memories of a Ranch Kid

Fred Navarro at the Frio River

Jolene Navarro here, checking in from the Texas Hill Country. My writing view this weekend. 

I went with my husband to Leakey Texas. His siblings (nine boys and two girls) were gathering to remember their parents. April makes the 15^th year of their dad’s passing, and they wanted to honor his memory. After church, we went to their parent’s graveside. After prayer and recalling memories, Joe (the youngest) read a letter he had written on May 10, 2004. This was the first time he shared it with his brothers and sisters.

The letter and memories reminded me why I love this life and write about small-town, cowboys and ranchers. 

There is something solid and good about people that work the land.  I met my husband 33 years ago and had the pleasure of spending time on the ranch. This place shaped the man I married. In honor of the Navarro family and the life that has influenced my stories, I wanted to share Joe’s story. He's the baby of eleven surviving children.

The Siblings standing in birth order. 9 boy and 2 girls

Joe & wife, Letty Navarro

May 19, 2004

My dear Brothers and Sisters:

This past Saturday, Fred came to Leakey, while we were visiting the phone rang. A woman speaking Spanish asked for Jesus Navarro (Their father). I asked her name. She just repeated her question. I wanted her name, but she told me to hold. A man’s voice came through the phone, he also spoke Spanish. When he also requested to speak with Jesus Navarro, I asked the man his name. He hesitated, and we spent some time in this cycle of not answering each other.

He finally identified himself and went on to tell me that Dad used to give him work on the Fair Ranch whenever he passed through. He was in Kerrville and wondered if there was any work for him on the ranch.

It was that awkward moment when I informed him that Dad had died on April 15^th and the Fair Ranch had sold five years ago. The man offered his condolences and we ended the call.

Jesus Navarro Working on the Ranch Early Winter Morning

Fred and I talked about how much influence our father had on immigrants passing through. The Bible tells us to care for travelers and those in need. Our parents didn’t just teach us this lesson, they showed us through their actions. They would fix a plate of food, making sure to wrap up extras in foil. My dad would give them work, pay them and then send them on to their next destination. It didn’t matter if they were a stranger passing through or the ranch owners’ esteemed guest, our parents treated everyone with respect.

Joe, David and Andy Navarro

This phone call set with me for a couple of days. Restless, I drove out to the old Jacoby/Fair Ranch where I grew up.

What an experience, to drive on that familiar winding Ranch Road 336, through the Texas Hill Country. The sound the cattleguards made when I drove over them jarred memories long buried.

Turning on to Ranch Road 3235, the Ivey Ranch sat on the right, a bit further down Buckle Fryar’s Ranch was followed by the Tooter Trees' Ranch.

As I passed Tooter’s Ranch sheep crossed the road, just as they did day in and day out, as we made the long trips between the ranch and town. They forced me to slow down.

Black Buck Antelope ran along the side of the road, disappearing into the brush.

As the caliche road took me closer to the old homestead cattle and axis deer took me deeper into my childhood.

Nostalgia clogged my throat. In the distance, the house Dad and our Tios built rose on the horizon. It was green now, not the bright yellow with blue trim that we knew. A lock on the gate stopped me about 200 yards from my childhood home. Determined to reach the old home, I drove to the house where Chencho used to live.

He was gone, but I knew the current foreman lived here. His name was Francisco Briones. I had met him two years prior. Today as luck would have it, he was outside working on a deer feeder.  I informed him of Dad’s passing and how I wished to go to the house I grew up and walk the land. In the years since the sell of the ranch, it had changed owners four times in three years. At one time the ranch was over three thousand acres, now it was sub divined int 50 to 100 acre “ranchettes”.

The new owners of the land the house sat on bought it last month and only been out on weekends. They had asked Mr. Briones to “keep an eye” on the place.

Texas Hill Counrty

He opened the gate for me on the back side where the corrals were located. Together we walked passed the fences and barns. I paused for a moment to take in the fact that I was here. I hadn’t even realized how long I had been waiting to do this.

As I pointed out places and what we had done I became a tour guide of my childhood memories. I told him how we stacked bales of hay in the barn, the corrals where we’d round up the Charolais cattle. We went to the place where the machines had once been set up to spray the cattle with the medicine for ticks. As we walked further on to the property I showed him where Dad kept all the tools he worked with. We went into the room where we unloaded sacks of feed – corn, milo, pellets for the cattle, horses, sheep, deer, chicken and more. There were a lot of feedings that happened every day.

In the tack room the wooden saddle seats were still there, but empty. The leather and gear were long gone. The old Jacoby house that was once red was now pink. Not far was the chicken coop where I would gather the eggs each morning, before going to school.

As we walked to the house, so many memories flooded my head and heart. I told Mr. Briones, this is where we all played baseball in the open field when we had family gatherings. Dad always pitched.

Crossing the yard to the house, it all looked so abandoned, so unkempt.

 But that didn’t stop the memories from toppling out, one over another.

The tree where Dad had nailed a basketball goal was still there, but the wooden backboard was gone. We had spent hours playing basketball. At the fence part of the ladder, Dad built for us to climb over was still there.

The house was locked, but I managed to sneak a peek through the window into the kitchen and dining room area. In my mind's eyes echoes of the people from my childhood were rushing around, working, eating and laughing. The smells of a busy kitchen surrounded me. How many hours had my mother stood at the stove? So many daily moments I had forgotten rushed back.
.

We walked around the side of the house and I told him which room belonged to who. It was time to leave. As we walked back I noticed the gas tanks were gone. Then there was the water tank and the well where we got our drinking water. There was a large fenced area where Dad would plant corn, tomatoes, squash, carrots, and so many other vegetables. There was the fish pond, where we once had goldfish and tons of tadpoles depending on the time of year.

It is now filled with trash and empty beer cans.  There was the tree where Dad killed a Spanish goats and gut and skin them, so our family had meat on the dinner table.

Overall the old Jacoby/Fair Ranch looks run down, unkempt, abandoned. The corrals are missing boards. The grass was waist high throughout the property. We passed two canovas and I remember the early mornings when it froze, and Dad would break the ice with a big shovel so the livestock could have water to drink.

We spoke about how all good things must come to an end. I shared with him that Dad left a legacy behind, he left us with rich memories. He had an impact on the ranch and on so many people’s lives.

We passed a field overgrown with prickly pears and cedar bushes.

Dad would have been upset and would have put us to work to clear that out. There was always work that needed to be done. I can hear Dad saying, “Que no esten dioquis, hay mucho que hacer.” There was always something to do.

I thanked Mr. Briones for opening the gate and letting me walk through my memories.

As I made my way back down the caliche road I looked in the review mirror of the green house, that was still yellow in my eyes. A sadness I wasn’t expecting tightened my chest. I had said goodbye to a friend that in reality had been gone a long time.

Looking to the sky I began talking to Dad. I told him how much I loved him. That was something I had never done in person while he was alive. I thanked him for everything he did for us. I told him that I missed him greatly.

I was a young child again, that wanted to go back to a life that was in some ways so much easier. As a teen, all I wanted to do was grow up so I wouldn’t have to deal with ranch life anymore. On the ranch, life seemed so dull with nothing but hard work.

Now I wish I could go back just for one last time and experience the ranch as it was.  The air, the animals, my parents, my brothers, and sisters all the extended family and the workers that joined us.

What was awesome about today was that I did go back. Today I walked through the past, remembering things I had forgotten.

All the hard work, people, joy in simple things that shaped me.

As I turned from Ranch Road 3235 on to Ranch Road 3361 I could hear Dad say… “Que se persinen.” I made the sign of the cross to remember that God is always with me.


 Love your “Baby” Brother,
Joe

Mom with her 11 children, their spouses, children and grandchildren


My new release will be in story May 21. It is up for pre-oder now. 

You will get to meet the De La Rosa family. They have a family ranch on the coast of Texas. I will be giving an early copy away Wednesday April 24 to someone that leaves a comment.

 Did you grow up in a city, small town or way out in the country?

The Amish Baker releases Feb. 19, by Marie E. Bast

Happy February! This month of romance, I’m celebrating the release of my first Love Inspired novel, The Amish Baker.

A child brings them together…                                
Will their differing Amish

beliefs pull them apart?

When his son breaks one of baker Sarah Gingerich’s prized possessions, widower Caleb Brenneman insists the boy make amends by doing odd jobs in her bake shop. A childless widow, Sarah can’t help falling for the boy...or his farmer father. But Caleb is progressive New Order Amish while Sarah holds traditional beliefs. Though they’re worlds apart, are they a perfect match?

 

Please enjoy this brief excerpt:

“The wheels crunched over the rocks as the buggy and Sarah drove out of his lane and out of his life. When he turned, his heart was beating wildly as she disappeared behind the grove of trees.

            What had he done? He didn’t want her out of his life…the buggy stirred up dust that dissolved into nothingness, like his chance for liebe.

###

I grew up on a farm in northern Illinois, not far from Amish country. When my family would drive to town, I’d see Amish buggies and horses. One day, I asked dad why we didn’t have a horse and buggy. To my disappointment, he explained that it was part of their religion to give up modern devices. From then on, the Amish have intrigued me.

Now I live seventy-six miles from Kalona, Iowa, and visit there often. The Amish started to move from Lancaster, PA, to Iowa in 1846 to live a more secluded lifestyle. The different groups in Iowa—the Old Order, New Order and Beachy Amish—have settled in seven Iowa counties. So come along with me in The Amish Baker and meet the Amish of the heartland.

The Amish Baker is available for preorder:

AMAZON         BarnesandNoble            BooksAMillion               Christianbook

Whispering words of hope and healing through complex characters and twisting plots, Marie E. Bast enjoys writing contemporary and historical stories. Her first Love Inspired novel, The Amish Baker, releases Feb. 19, 2019. Married for twenty-seven years, Marie and her husband have two grown sons and one daughter. When she’s not writing, she’s walking, golfing, gardening or spending time with her family.

Visit her website or follower her on social media:

mariebastauthor.com      Facebook     Twitter     Google     Pinterest     

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Living Your Best Life in 2019 by Sherri Shackelford

We're three weeks into 2019, and I imagine that by now, a lot of resolutions have already gone by the wayside. That doesn't mean those same resolutions can't be revisited in March, April, May or even December. It's never too late to make a new start.

If you're one of those people who set grand goals that you're never quite able to achieve, maybe it's time to go...small. Instead of vowing to lose thirty pounds, what if, as an alternative, you decided to eat a protein-rich breakfast instead of only drinking coffee? That's it. Just one small change. My brother-in-law lost fifteen pounds the year he decided to forgo the fries when they were available, and order the vegetable side dish instead. That's all he did! But that small change led to others. If you drink two sodas a day, try to drink only one.

Research has shown us that making small, incremental changes can make a bigger impact on our lives than a grand resolution that's difficult to maintain. If you want to organize the whole house, start by making your bed each morning. If you're trying to save money, but you can never manage to keep a budget, resolve to deduct $10 from each paycheck and put that money into savings.

Instead of thinking big, think small. And don't be afraid to reward yourself! Human beings are better at short-term goals. If you want a write a book, resolve to write 10 words a day...then, if that works out, write a 100.

I'll be honest, I spent most of my life setting huge goals with lackluster results. Then I decided to think small...If I have a goal, I make small, incremental changes leading to that goal.

I'm going to give you some homework that will make anyone's year better. Say something nice to yourself each day. Just one nice thing each day. Tell yourself you look pretty! Tell yourself you're a good cook! Anything. We all tend to be too hard on ourselves. We'd never talk to someone we love the way we talk to ourselves.

What about you? Do you start out with grand goals and never quite seem to be able to keep them? Or are you able to set realistic goals?

To living your best life in 2019!

Sherri Shackelford

A former naval reservist with a top-secret security clearance, Sherri writes rapid-fire suspense featuring captivating characters and heart-pounding romance. She's authored more than a dozen novels for Harlequin publishing, including both historical and contemporary suspense.

Visit her Website, or follow her on social media:

SherriShackelford.com

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NO SAFE PLACE

He lives by the law.

She’s running for her life.

After forensic accountant Beth Greenwood uncovers a money-laundering scheme tying her company to the organization that murdered her mentor, she knows she needs to go into hiding. With ruthless killers in pursuit, she’s forced to rely on homeland security agent Corbin Ross’s protection—even as his investigation suggests Beth is complicit in embezzlement. Can their uneasy alliance develop into something deeper—and keep them alive?

Finding Thanksgiving by Marie Bast

 

 

I love the holidays and this time of year. It always brings to mind            

how much I have to be thankful for—our family, our health, for
the many blessings, but this year I get to add my first book with
Love inspired. I’m so grateful to the wonderful LI team and all
their hard work to get my book ready for publication. 

But Thanksgiving also goes deeper…

When I set the table with my grandmother’s antique Haviland Bavaria china and mom’s silverware, memories from past years with family come flooding back. One Thanksgiving years ago, it was my turn to host the traditional family dinner. It snowed 15.6 inches in northern Illinois the night before. I had cooked and baked for two days and had tons of food and afraid we’d be eating a 25-pound turkey for a month. They plowed the roads and everyone made it. Now we go to South Carolina for the winter, but my grandson thought he’d send me a reminder of those days.

 

Yet Thanksgiving can be about remembering a family vacation like
the one we had three years ago with our son and his family in Michigan and visiting the dunes and enjoying beautiful Lake Michigan. Two years ago, it was about taking a cruise to Mexico with our other son and his wife.
                                                 

Thanksgiving was also when my husband had bypass surgery, and today I thank the Lord every day that he is here with me.

Yes, Thanksgiving is all these things and much, much more.

Thanksgiving isn’t about just one day, it’s about all the memories, all the good times, all the people, and yes, it’s about the food, too, and about sitting down together and joining hands in prayer and making new memories. It’s about finding all that we have forgotten about…

So what are your memories? Have you found your Thanksgiving?

 
































                                                

 

Finding Your Niche by Marie Bast

Authors all want to get published, but it’s not always easy to find a publisher that’s the perfect fit for our writing. Especially when it’s our first book. I’m a new author with Love Inspired, and therefore, thought I’d share my experience on cracking the code to publication. For those of you who have been trying to capture the attention of an editor or publisher, here is my journey to my first book contract.              

Before

I joined writers’ organizations like RWA, ACFW, SCBWI, Word weavers, and two critique groups. The training and information from these professional organizations and writers were invaluable. Now, I’m going to enlist the aid of my son’s dog, Lola, who has graciously volunteered (after receiving several biscuits) to demonstrate show don’t tell for manuscript makeover. In the creative stage of writing, extraneous little creatures—over-used words, adverbs, prepositions, sentence starters and filler words had weaseled their way onto each page. They made my work-in-process (WIP) look bloated and shaggy—needing a cleanup.       

After

After scrubbing and trimming my manuscripts, they looked professional, sharp, and ready for presentation to editors and publishers. Besides publishing dozens of articles, short stories, devotionals, poetry and prayers, I contributed to four book compilations. Brimming with confidence, I wrote three adult books and five children’s books. Armed with proposals, I attended several writers' conferences. None of them caught a publisher's attention. Disappointed but I was still determined.      

 
Since I enjoyed reading Love Inspired books, I browsed their webpage and found that in February, they often held contests or offered submission opportunities. My first attempt at submission, failed, but I received constructive comments and advice. The next time I entered a contest, I made it through stage one, but rejected at stage two. Then at a writers’ conference, I attended a workshop given by Allie Pleiter. I learned a lot from Allie on how to further hone my work, and it gave me the push to submit to LI again. After submission, the whole process took around a year, but it ended in a contract.

 My advice, don’t give up. Attend writers’ conferences and workshops, find a publisher that you’d like to work with, then read their books and determine if this is the kind of niche or genre you’d like to write. Before you submit, make sure you have trimmed and polished your manuscript until the shaggy spots are gone.    

My first book, The Amish Baker releases March 2019. Have you ever had someone give you that crucial shove to try something one more time?  To get to know me better, visit my blog, follow me on Facebook, or Twitter.



 

 
 

 

I Can't Believe I'm here!

It's a dream come true being new to the Harlequin Publishing family and the Love Inspired line. So, I thought I'd do a top ten list of things you might want to know about me as a way of introducing myself to this fabulous group! So here goes....

10. I was born and raised in Columbia County, NY, an area in upstate New York, about 120 north of New York city.

9. I married my high school sweetheart 38 years ago...and that sounds like a really, really long time ago! LOL! And when we renewed our wedding vows our first time, (yes, we did it twice, and Elvis officiated in Vegas) my husband did a top ten list of why he loved me. Not a dry eye in the church!

8. I love to cook, but cleaning up the mess I make....not so much.

7. I always wanted to be an actress, but never got over my stage fright. My degree is in Theater Arts and I loved creating so much that I decided to write instead...and later in my life I realized I wanted to be a NASCAR driver. I'm still trying to figure out a way to make that happen.

6. I sold my first book on 9/9/99 at 1:30 pm. I was watching my favorite daytime soap, Days of Our Lives when Amy Garvey from Kensington Publishing called to make an offer for my novel, Adirondack Jewel which was published as Mountain Jewel.

5.  I love history and happy endings, which is probably why my first love as an author was to write historical romances.

A field in Clymer, NY the setting for A Love For Lizzie 

4. I love binge watching TV shows, like The Gilmore Girls, The Hart of Dixie, and When Calls The Heart.

3. I'm a country girl at heart.

2. I adore my family, which consists of our two married sons and five grandkids. Who knew having grandchildren could be so much fun?

1. My first Love Inspired book, A Love for Lizzie, (A New York state set Amish story) will be releasing in 2019.

Thank you so much for indulging me. I'm looking forward to getting to know all of you. In the comment section tell me one thing about yourself! There will be a drawing! One lucky winner (USA only) will be given an autographed print copy of A Changed Agent, Waterfall Press, book one, The Adirondack Pinkertons series.

I invite you to join me on Facebook 

visit my website 

Amazon author page 

Pinterest 

A Summer Love--Chapter One--Lenora Worth

A Summer Love

(Ladies of Love Inspired Summer Serial)

Chapter One

Lenora Worth

     “Ralph, give up, boy. You aren’t going to catch a seagull.”

     Jake Watkins grinned down at the German shepherd that stood at his feet, woofing each time a seagull cawed. The big dog was getting old but still has some spunk in him.

     And so did Jake. Maybe they’d both come home wounded and suffering, but being back at Summer Shores gave Jake hope. His physical wounds were healing. No more nighttime pain or grabbing for pills. Ralph had caught shrapnel from that bomb, too. Just a couple of deep gashes but good as new now.

     There would be no going back for these two.

     Jake lifted the leash and Ralph stood so they could keep walking along the boardwalk. The sunshine shimmered over the blue water, bringing back memories of sailing and fishing and flirting with pretty girls. Jake came back here to find that part of himself again, the part where he laughed and smiled and breathed in the fresh air. He wanted to put away the sound of machine guns and battle cries, the taste of dust and the feel of dirt. The pain of death. He was glad to be home.

     But where did he go from here?

     He’d been gone fifteen years and while Summer Shores remained mostly the same, small and quaint and proud, the perfect image of a small American town, he’d changed a lot.

     Would anyone here remember him?

     “Jake?”

     Jake pivoted away from the ice cream shop and turned to stare down the hill. “Dr. Merritt?”

     An older woman with curly gray hair approached him, her smile as bright at the sun. “It is you. In the flesh. Oh, Jake, we’re all so glad to have you home.”

     Jake hugged Dr. Cheryl Merritt close. She was an old family friend. His mother and Dr. Cheryl had been pals since they’d met in nursery school at Summer Shores Church. Dr. Cheryl had a daughter Jake’s age. A daughter he’d rather not think about right now.

     After small talk and a teary-eyed sympathy for the loss of his mother, Dr. Cheryl took his arm. “I want you to come to dinner Friday night.”

     “I’m not sure—.”

     “I won’t take no for an answer,” the petite pediatrician told him, her blue eyes daring him to refuse. “Jenny will be so glad to see you.”

     “Jenny?”

     “Oh, I didn’t mention her? She’s home from California.”

     “For the weekend?” he asked, hoping so and then wishing for more time.

     “No, for good,” Dr. Cheryl said on a smug note. Then she motioned her head and looked past him. “In fact, there she is now. We’re meeting for lunch at the Dock Café. You could join us.”

     Nick turned, his breath stopping. Jenny Merritt. Tall, tanned, curvy, with strawberry blonde wavy hair flowing around her shoulders. She wore a blue sundress and strappy white sandals.

     She looked up when her mother called, and then stopped and stared, her green eyes going wide.

     “Look who I found,” her mother shouted with too much hope. “He’s coming to dinner Friday night.”

     “Mother,” Jenny said, finally reaching them, her eyes on Jake, her frown telling him this was not a good idea. “What are you doing?”

     “I’m talking to Jake,” Dr. Cheryl said with all the innocence of a prime Southern belle and all the steel of a mother who wanted grandchildren soon.

     “Jake,” Jenny said, her smile tentative. “I didn’t know you were home.”

     “Yep.”

Ralph looked from Jake to Jenny, his big brown eyes asking the obvious question—Who is this?

Jake nodded and ignored his curious partner. “I came back to decide what to do with the house.”

     “I’m sorry about your mom,” Jenny said, her discomfort obvious in spite of the sympathy in her eyes.

     “Yeah, me too,” he replied, still angry that he hadn’t made it home in time to say goodbye before his mother passed a few months ago.

     Then Jenny asked him something that made him wonder about what might come next. “You can’t sell the beach house, Jake.”

     Jake stared at the woman he’d loved most of his life and remembered when he’d had to tell her goodbye one time too many.

     She’d ended things that day, unable to deal with him being a soldier. So why was she so concerned about him now?

     “I don’t know,” he said. “I thought it might be for the best.”

     Dr. Cheryl snorted with an unladylike disgust. “Jake Watkins, can’t you see Jenny wants you to stay in Summer Shores?”

     “Mother!”

     Jake looked at Jenny, trying to hide his smile while a becoming blush covered her freckled cheeks. “Jenny, is that true?” he asked, surprised he could still flirt. “Want me to stay around a while so we can relive some of those memories again at the beach house.”

     “Yes,” her mother said.

     “Woof,” Ralph replied.

     But Jenny, beautiful, fun, sweet Jenny just glared at him with that look he knew so well. That would be a definite no.

     “That is entirely up to you,” she said, grabbing her mother’s arm. “We have lunch plans.”

     “I’ll see you Friday night, Jake,” her mother said with a wink.

     And because teasing Jenny felt so good, Jake replied, “That’s a date, Dr. Cheryl.”

     Jenny shot him one last glance and turned and hurried her mother away.

     Ralph looked up at Jake, his dark eyes wide.

     “It’s a long story,” Jake said. “A very long story.”

    

    

The Big Apple or the Big Easy - Jolene Navarro

Hello, Jolene here. With summer vacation just around the corner, my husband and I are talking about places to go. All my stories are set in my home state of Texas. The small towns of the Hill Country are in my DNA, but I love to travel beyond our borders. 

My father was a commercial airline pilot, and growing up we traveled a lot.  On the other hand my husband grew up on a ranch (ranchers do not take vacations) and was one of eleven children. Needless to say traveling was not done, so I love to take him to new places. 

We've been talking about our favorite places and maybe revisiting one of them. New York City and New Orleans are right on top. My husband was surprised by how much we enjoyed our experience in New York. The energy and vibe of one of the biggest cities in a very land locked piece of property was amazing. We got to dance in the rain in Times Square. I was able to see works of art I’d only studied in art school.

 We found a family diner off not far from our hotel on Wall Street. My husband was exited to discover  burgers under 5.00 plus the owner spoke Spanish. 

We found this gem of a family diner off Wall Street. Home cooked food with very good price.

Just the history alone was mind boggling. I have to say the people were super friendly and even when we got a bit confused in the subway there was always someone willing to help.

Lower Manhattan – It amazes me that so many people can live in such a small space. It looks as if it could just fall of the little piece of land.

In the city you can hardly see the sky. From the river it looks like another world

Central Park

The human spirit is amazing…you can see it and feel it in large doses all over New York, but no matter how many building we build we still are drawn to nature. Central Park is an oasis in the mist of a man made jungle. Did I mention the history everywhere you looked?

Then there is the southern city of  New Orleans. 

Reid, my hero in The Texan's Twins is a native of New Orleans. Katrina relocated him to Houston as a kid. I listened to hours of videos to hear the voice patterns of people from this beautiful city. It was fun and if you read, The Texan's Twins I hope you can hear the sounds of the city in Reid's voice. 

The Texan's Twins - Jolene Navarro

 A big city with a completely different feel from New York. Relaxed, happy, laid back and ready for a good time.  We were sent to New Orleans with a Smithsonian Educational grant and I wasn't sure what to expect. I’m not a party person so I wasn’t sure about New Orleans.  We fell in love with textures, people and food.

Waiting to enter the unknown in New Orleans.

On the way to Pirate Ally in the French Quarter’s of New Orleans.

There is so much art and creativity in New Orleans

Anyone who has ever been to New Orleans will tell you to stop by the Cafe Du Monde, any time of day or night.

So many shops had a cat in the window. This one was watching over a weaving shop

You can’t go to NOLA without at least one visit to the cemetery. This was taken at Lafayette Cemetery No 1

Taking the Paddle Boat down the Mississippi while listening to live music was a wonderful experience. Warning: save your money and skip the dinner.

We stayed in the French Quarter and walked everywhere, even late at night we felt safe. We stepped onto Bourbon Street for about five minutes, that was enough.

The history, art, music and people made this a trip we want to make again. 

Have you been to both of these cities? If you had to choose one which would it be: New York or New Orleans?  Maybe neither? LOL

 Do you have a favorite city that you would visit over and over?