~Chapter 1~

 1998

     She looked up from the quilting block she was sewing, and wiped a tear from her eye.  She put her fabric in her lap, and surveyed her hands for a minute.  They were small, with short, stubby fingers, aged dirt under her nails.  She had thought, more than several times, during her long life, of growing out her fingernails, and being more feminine.  But, her love of planting, and harvesting, in the dirt and soil, and sewing her numerous quilts, won out.

     The trade-off hadn’t been bad, sh...

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