She-Rain: A Story of Hope by Michael Cogdill has kept me right here at home, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Sometimes home really is the best place to be! The book takes place in the 1920s.
Miz B at Should Be Reading would like a teaser. This is from page 37 of She-Rain.
In the rise of crickets and peep frogs, Granny spread out her mountain mystic view of things again, and the whole wagon treated it as sacred for a moment. She'd often speak of how a little scrap of fog tears from a rain cloud. Floats on the waves of blue ridge as if a wisp off a bride. Granny and others called it she-rain, I suppose for the womanly drape, white as wedding gown. Common legend, though Granny took the vision further. Said she-rain was like us all--little scraps torn off into the world, given to the wind, and meant to find a paradise. As she saw things, no human scrap of this life is made for the trash. Even the most ragged are fit to beautify somewhere. Fit for some quilting into the finery of creation.
Where has your reading taken you this week? Do you have a teaser to share?