Hannah followed half-buried signposts of time: a wagon wheel and two rusty mule shoes. There was living, breathing history in this forest, history that was tangible, history that endured.
Another autobiographical paragraph, because this novel is also my love letter to our little corner of North Carolina. As a history major, I feel the beat of the past in old buildings and on historical land. I also sense it in the woods behind our house. And yes, I've dug up mule shoes and wagon wheel rims.
