Then Trinidad said, "I think you know the state of Michoacán, where I was born and lived all my life, in the village of Libertad, until I came here, to these dry hills, to be with my sister." At these words Sara Everton saw the state of Michoacán rise like a mirage from the clods of the field before her. As in the finale of a silent movie, when there appears behind the credits a vision of improbable rewards: a humble cottage almost buried in roses or a wire cage from whose open door two doves soar out of sight - like these illusory heavens, there now floated up before her the image of wet green meadows, red furrows of fertile earth, steep slopes of extinct volcanoes serrated from crater to ground with ledges of ripening corn, low white houses almost crushed by their tile roofs. She heard the rush of water in ditches and canals and was not surprised when a lake materialized, drowning the famished plots of land, the baseball field, the cemetery and the naves of the churches. Within an hour there would be rain that would silver the surface of the lake as well as the leaves of the eight olive trees that lined the road. Sara cast off her trance. "Yes, I know Michoacán", she said....
-Harriet Doerr, The Tiger in the Grass
The author of A Gypsy's Path has often visited the mountain villages,lakes and forests of Michoacán; even did some ranchsitting at Rancho Madroño. I no longer live there, but consider Michoacán my home. So, "Yes, I know Michoacán."
-Harriet Doerr, The Tiger in the Grass
The author of A Gypsy's Path has often visited the mountain villages,lakes and forests of Michoacán; even did some ranchsitting at Rancho Madroño. I no longer live there, but consider Michoacán my home. So, "Yes, I know Michoacán."
