I tweeted about this earlier in the week, but thought it warranted a blog post too.
On Wednesday, my son and I stopped by the library, as we do nearly every week. After filling our bag with picture books, I wanted to grab a new middle-grade book too. I’ve been reading more middle-grade lately since I’ve become interested in writing one myself. Anyway, my son was getting antsy and ready to leave the library for the playground, so I didn’t have time to leisurely browse. Instead, I just grabbed a book that was on a display shelf and didn’t pay much attention to what I had grabbed.
Until I got home.
When I looked closer, I thought to myself, I know that author’s name. But, I couldn’t place her right away. Then, it hit me!
She was the same author who wrote my very favorite picture book from when I was a girl! The same author who is from my home state of West Virginia. And the same author who had signed the book for me (nearly 4 decades ago!) when she visited a library where my grandmother worked as a librarian. Serendipity.
When I Was Young in the Mountains paints a lovely picture of rural Appalachia. And, even though I grew up in a more modern time than what this book portrays, my Appalachian roots run deep. I always felt like this book was written just for me, as silly as that sounds. I probably love it even more today than I did as a young girl. I still have the same copy from my childhood, and today it sits on my son’s bookshelf. When we’re not actively reading it, that is. Which we do quite often.