And that is where we stopped.
Which brings me back to that flower stall, where we stopped on the way to Rameswaram.
The southern border of the refuge curls around Arctic Village, where we stopped to refuel.
Our intuition guided where we stopped and whom we talked to.
Right around here is where we stopped being just a guitar band.
Near the bar where we stopped on our second day, a substantial school building was nearing completion.
From Edam, we took the coast road to the town of Monnickendam, where we stopped for coffee and almond biscuits.
The only time we talked was at a Village Inn in Glenwood Springs, where we stopped for food.
Leaving the Military Park, we went into town, where we stopped at the engrossing and eclectic Old Court House Museum.
The house where we stopped was near the Chattahoochee River, set back from the road in a copse of spindly oaks.
From San Rafael, the younger Mr. Swig maintained a brisk pace along back roads to Oakville, where we stopped for lunch at a winery.
