On the first day of our journey across the western half of the country, we drove through the rolling hills of Missouri, rivers glinting in the sunlight, and shadows pressing into tree-filled valleys. After a vivid sunset of gold, blue and pink, and a stop for ice cream fortification, we drove on to Joplin in search of the mysterious Joplin Ghost Lights, also called the Hornet Light and the Joplin Spooklight.

We'd never seen ghost lights before, and felt like paranormal investigators as we navigated the narrow roads, skirting fields and farms, and crossing over into Oklahoma by way of moonlit back roads.

We'd done research before leaving, knew where to stop, where the ghost lights have been seen nightly since the 1880s or possibly earlier. Geologists and ghost hunters alike have been puzzled by the strange lights. Swamp gas has been ruled out. We crested a small hill, seeing headlights in the very far distance from interstate 44, which people have confused with the spook lights in the past, and easily dismissed the lights as such.

We were just searching the area much nearer us when we saw them-- abruptly appearing on the left hand side of the road -- an orb of green light which moved to one side and transformed its color to gold, then to red. then it winked out. Another orb appeared, this one gold, brighter. It shifted to one side, then it, too, went out. Both pulsed back into view, side by side, shifting sideways, then back. Then they disappeared. We continued down the road to an intersection, where three other ghost light seekers waited in lawn chairs, munching on chips and drinking diet cola. We joined them -- a friendly, enthusiastic grandfather out with his two grandchildren. We parked and stood on the desolate road, catching a glimpse or two of the green ghost light, far fainter this time than our first encounter.

Around us coyotes began to howl in their eerie way -- yips and high pitched mewling and crying. Another group answered on the opposite side of us. In the distance came the mournful cry of a peacock, and a lone whip-poor-will sang in the darkness, which twinkled and shimmered with the light of hundreds of fireflies.

All the while we waited for the reappearance of the ghost lights. Midnight approached, and we walked back to the crest of the hill where we'd first seen the lights, this time accompanied by a local dog who trotted along companionably and occasionally barked at the howling coyotes.

As we waited, the dull roar of an old truck thundered up the road, and it drove past us, headlights out, with several people standing in the flatbed, staring silently at us as they passed, trolling for ghost lights.

At last, as the moon peeked through the trees and the frogs sang in the marshy field behind us, we had to press on, glad we'd seen the mysterious ghost lights.