In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.
In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.
In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.
In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.
In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.
In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.
In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.
In this sixth collection of stories and verse, award-winning writer Luci Tapahonso finds sacredness in everyday life. Viewing a sunset in a desert sky, listening to her granddaughter recount how she spent her day, or visiting her mother after her father's passing, she finds traces of her own memories, along with echoes of the voices of her Navajo ancestors.

These engaging words draw us into a workaday world that, magically but never surprisingly, has room for the Diyin Dine' (the Holy People), Old Salt Woman, and Dawn Boy. When she describes her grandson's First Laugh Ceremony--explaining that it was originally performed for White Shell Girl, who grew up to be Changing Woman--her account enriches us and we long to hear more. Tapahonso weaves the Navajo language into her work like she weaves "the first four rows of black yarn" into a rug she is making "for my little grandson, who inherited my father's name: Hastiin Ts tah Naaki B s ."

As readers, we find that we too are surrounded by silent comfort, held lovingly in the confident hands of an accomplished writer who has a great deal to tell us about life.