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I grew up on the tales I heard around my Grandma Frank's kitchen, of life in Kentucky, as told by my mother, Nora, Aunt Lucille, Aunt Annie, Cousin Etta and Grandma. They told ghost stories about Indian princesses and big stallions, funny stories about the big ol' sway back white horse, Dollar. Scary stories, told by the kids as they walked to school, about the wolves following them on the edge of the woods. They fed them biscuits from their shortening can lunch buckets, thinking they were dogs. Stories of fireballs racing through the house at night. Little people, romance, magic, herbs,...