Ver Talk to Me Texas por Carole SummersVista previa
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Talk to Me Texas

de Carole Summers

Tapa blanda
Cubierta flexible y laminada, con acabado de brillo intenso.
Tapa dura, sobrecubierta
Cubierta de lino con sobrecubierta a todo color y solapas
Tapa dura impresa
El diseño de la cubierta está impreso en la tapa dura
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Acerca del libro
I was living in Rio Rancho, New Mexico when the lament of a country song stirred faded memories of bygone days in Wimberley, Texas. It was the 1970s and a treasure of time like no other. At the risk of sounding a bit like a country girl raised on Willie Nelson, Lone Star belt buckles and old faded Levis, there's nothing better than Texas sunshine, deep shade, cool clear waters and the smell of rarified country air. This was the Texas Hill Country. Along with 4-H horse club play days, midnight horseback rides and overnight trail rides, I never got over the lonesome call of a Whip-poor-will at dusk or the Hill Country’s signature live oaks, limestone and long winding roads. This little book is a gift for my two girls – lest they forget the days they have grown past – the summer days when they knew first hand, “The wind of heaven is that which blows between a horse’s ears.”
Características y detalles
  • Categoría principal: Biografías y memorias
  • Características: Cuadrado pequeño, 18×18 cm
    N.º de páginas: 48
  • Fecha de publicación: oct. 02, 2016
  • Idioma English
  • Palabras clave Horses, 4-H, Texas, Wimberley, Horseback Riding, Texas Hill Country
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Acerca del creador
summers42
Carole Summers
McKinney, Texas

I was born in South Texas and grew up on a cotton farm in the 1950s. I owe the privilege of growing up in Texas to the stalwart spirit of my great-grandparents Tomas and Veronika Fojt who in 1870 were among Texas’ first pioneers. They came with a hearty constitution, grit, perseverance, bravery and a spirit forged by love of land and freedom. As Czech immigrants they settled the Texas blacklands as farmers and blacksmiths. Unfortunately, 140 years passed before I became aware of the depth of gratitude owed them; and conversely–due largely to ignorance of their existence–had likewise been denied. After searching, I finally found the remains of their intrepid spirit on the Texas prairie–etched in stone and muted in the silence of a foreign language that as a 4th generation Texas Czech, I had long forgotten. In their memory, I published Strangers at the Gate in 2013 to honor and give thanks for their fortuitous ancestral passage to this extraordinary place called Texas.

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