Henry Clay's estate in Lexington, Ky.

Usage examples of ashland.

By the time they reached Ashland, Sorel had a bare-bones working knowledge of the town and the arterials that fed it.

With little to go on but faded memories and a few of Jack's old letters, Leo sets out to find his uncle (or at least to learn his fate), making his way down to Ashland, Kentucky, to a run-down rooming house called The Scott Hotel, the last address he has for Jack.

His efforts eventually take him back to the Ashland of 1934, where he meets Jack, and the younger Matusiks, and discovers the secret of his uncle's disappearance.

Shadow of Ashland plays it very differently, almost self-consciously ignoring those hooks in favor of focusing on Leo's emotional interior.

The trail Leo follows doesn't unfold bit by bit, with increasing tension, but instead Leo takes the few clues he's got and heads right to Ashland, there to start wandering.

Though on the level of sheer drama Shadow of Ashland may not be as compelling a book as Time and Again, its treatment of the past as the fount of the present, and as a source of illumination and self-knowledge, makes it far weightier in the end.

Cady literalizes the idea with his ghosts existing alongside the living, but the past is just as tangible a part of Ashland, its echoes informing every aspect of the present.

And in The Off Season as in Shadow of Ashland, the past provides illumination of both private and public identity, as the group of five citizens who are writing the account proceed, they begin to reflect not only on Point Vestal, but on themselves as well: "'It is a history,'" one of them says, "'but it's becoming our history, not just town history.

Both The Off Season and Shadow of Ashland steer clear of the kinds of oversimplication that afflict so many discussions of the past and the present these days.

He would be strolling on the monorail platform in Ashland before noon on Saturday.

Slaughter was uneasy among the tourist throngs who made Ashland seem a major city in miniature.

Several kilometers behind them a Toyota Scrambler howled up Dead Indian Road, driven with the happy abandon of a maniac or of a man who knew every pothole in the road between Ashland and the high mountain lakes.

Keith Ames risked hemorrhoids on cold bleacher seats with two hundred others and cheered his Ashland junior high team, a losing cause this season.

Officer Ulrich Ashland started back toward Boylston Street with his hand still on the butt of his gun.

Officer Ashland repeated, and trotted to the Four Seasons side of the street.