As I climbed down from the Quarter Horse, it occurred to me that the Hill Country trail ride had been the perfect way to ease into my visit to the Frio Canyon area
In summer, the Gulf of Mexico turns a vibrant blue-green at South Padre Island. On the shoreline, squealing children splash each other alongside hand-holding couples, and surfers tug their boards out to catch a wave.
Each time I visit the West Texas town of Albany, it seems that the locals mistake me for a resident. I’ve finally realized that the historic frontier ranching town, just a two-hour drive west of my hoame in Fort Worth, is renowned for a welcoming atmosphere that envelops even folks stopping in just for the weekend.
I’ve always loved Galveston, and now I have a local connection. My boyfriend’s grandmother, Alba Collins, grew up in a tiny house underneath the island’s first wooden rollercoaster in the 1930s. And we visit her every so often, spending sunny, summer weekends soaking our toes in the Gulf waters as we listen to her stories about Galveston in earlier days.