Growing up in Appalachia meant growing up close to the land, close to our people, and close to the things most folks' hurry past. We lived a little behind the rest of the world- maybe a generation or two by their standards- but it never felt like we were lacking. Life moved slow enough for us to hear it, and we learned early that listening was half of living. Little Indian Creek Holler in Kentucky Little Indian Creek is where my days were spent. That water had its own way of

Halloween in the Holler: Ghost Lights and Granny’s Tales Illustrated by Hearts of Appalachia Project, Inc. Fog gathers around the old tipple as lantern light flickers on a cabin porch — where every mountain story begins. Round about the time the hickory leaves start turnin’ gold and the nights get that bite in the air, folks around these mountains start talkin’ a little softer come sundown. The fog creeps low through the holler, dogs quit barkin’ without reason, and someone’s