Witches weave curses out of words; the less you use `em, the more powerful they are. Blessings are weakerbut you can use them more often, wear them in like shoes.
Judith's red-headed granddaughter Molly, also a witch, curses her way through life, and now look at herpregnant, a widow, and an adulteress with the spirit of a mountain to boot. Not that Judith can complain; it's only been time that's worn off her own rough edges. And what else is a grandmother to do, but love her grandbaby?
Now it's time for the baby to be born, to a powerful witch who can't be touched by painkillers, with a father who's being strip-mined by a company town, in a cabin at the top of the sky, and a midwife who's tired of the drama.
What else could possibly go wrong?
And of course there has to be a storm rolling in