You could smell the winter coming. You could see it in the transparency of the light and hear it in the harsh warning cries of the geese as they passed overhead. Most of all, you could feel it. During the day the sun was still hot, but as soon as it dipped down behind the trees the warmth dropped out of the air like a stone. (p. 37)I think Lawson captured the feeling of the winter coming very well. Smell it, see it, hear it, and most of all, feel it. For two decades I lived on Signal Mountain, rising a couple of thousand feet; later I spent another ten years as pastor of Signal Mountain United Methodist Church. So I have a lot of experience driving up and down the "W" Road, so named because of the W-shaped switchbacks near the top, where the road has to rise steeply. When I drove up that road at the end of a day, I could feel the coolness as I entered the shadow of the mountain. I felt it immediately, like a shiver. Lawson captured that feeling when she wrote that as soon as the sun "dipped down behind the trees the warmth dropped out of the air like a stone." Yessss! That's exactly how it felt to me. Turn my car onto that road when the sun was setting behind the mountain and ~ CHILL ~ I could feel the temperature drop 10-15 degrees, immediately. Lawson is an excellent writer!
Arthur's silence was companionable. (p. 94)Who knew? I have never before thought about the different kinds of silence ... well, except when I was a teenager just beginning to date. When I didn't know the boy well, the silence was agonizing as I tried to think of something to say. Remember that feeling? I have never described a silence as companionable, thoughtful, or resentful; but doesn't it seem just right when Mary Lawson does it? I'm impressed with her writing, as you can see.
Pete's silence was thoughtful. (p. 95)
Carter's silence was resentful. (p. 95)