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Judy, my dear wife, a native New Englander, always desired to travel across the Continental United States. She did in fact travel but not just for the sake of vacationing. She had an avid interest in History and Nature. In 2004 she embarked on a journey that began in New Hampshire. This wanderlust took her to far away locations such as following portions of the Lewis and Clark Trail. She decided to go even further west and found a home in Flagstaff, Arizona. Here she would stay until 2009 where she traveled to San Antonio, Texas. This was where I had the privilege of asking for her hand in marriage and on the 13thMay 2009 we were married in Atascosa County, south of San Antonio.

One spring morning the weather was beautiful with a light northeasterly breeze wafting through our opened living room windows. I knew Judy was a History enthusiast and San Antonio was rich in culture and history. One of the greatest attractions in this thriving, multi-cultural metropolis formerly known as the presidio of San Antonio de Bexar, (1718) is the infamous San Antonio River Walk and the San Antonio Missions Trail. Appearing incredulously along the river are antiquated limestone structures ascending above the arboreous spirited golden leaves of Oak trees.

Over three centuries ago the Spanish explorers prepared the way for land discovered north and west of the Gulf of Mexico. In 1718 Franciscan fathers established five missions along the San Antonio River. In 1731 the Villa of San Fernando de Bexar was founded with the arrival of fifteen families from the Canary Islands. Thus, the city of San Antonio began to obtain prominence as the only Spanish settlement within a very large territory. The missions served not only in a Christian capacity but were utilized as a vocational education center for the indigenous peoples of the area. They were converted to Catholicism and taught to speak Spanish. Their contribution to the community was vital as peasant farmers. Agriculture and livestock were the primary trade of the region.

Our road trip began driving through the modest community where the Canary Islanders live to the present. We drove 15 mph along a paved country road with Oak, Cedar, and Mesquite trees that mysteriously clung to the grayish-blue summit of heaven's hem. Our first park we came to was Mission San Francisco de la Espada established in 1690. The dampened darkness of the cold grayish limestone bell tower rose illustriously in its concealment behind the sunlight's variegation

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