Anne Woodford was a witch. That was the only conclusion my 10-year-old mind could whittle out as I watched her place the giant copper pot on the stovetop and then open the thick, leather-bound book with yellowed pages.
Anne Woodford was a witch. That was the only conclusion my 10-year-old mind could whittle out as I watched her place the giant copper pot on the stovetop and then open the thick, leather-bound book with yellowed pages.