
“Misty of Chincoteague?” I squealed. “No, that’s Virginia, this is North Carolina,” my classmate responded. “Yeah, but the ponies!” I insisted. We hadn’t come out on this boat to see the ponies per se (andContinue reading
“Misty of Chincoteague?” I squealed. “No, that’s Virginia, this is North Carolina,” my classmate responded. “Yeah, but the ponies!” I insisted. We hadn’t come out on this boat to see the ponies per se (andContinue reading