| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| c9377c7 | Seasons didn't come behind the nicotine-stained walls of Mountain City's prison, so Harm always imagined it spring--the locust trees clustered with shaggy white blooms, the wet woods flecked with bloodroot, and wild roses and honeysuckle flashing white among the chestnuts on the mountainsides... | ballad-novel southern-fiction | Sharyn McCrumb |