"Then there was one brief time when we didn't live in the big brick house with my grandmother but in a neat two-storey green-shingled white house in the holler below. It was two storeys if you stood at the front door; on the other side it was three storeys, the ground floor a tall basement garage.
The house was surrounded by hills to the north and east and south. Directly above us lay the family farm and my grandmother's house. Two miles behind the south hill was the town of Tipton, where the Challenger Paper and Fiber Corporation smoked eternally, smudging the Carolina mountain landscape for miles. A small creek ran through our side yard, out of the eastern hills. The volume of the creek flow was controlled by the Challenger; they had placed a reservoir up there, and the creek water was regulated by means of the spillway."
Those are the first two paragraphs of the book I started today, "I Am One of You Forever" by Fred Chappell. It's merely a description of the narrator's boyhood home, but I've read it over and over and over again just because I love it.
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