M.G. Wetherholt is a delicate lady of a certain age who delights in knitting, baking, digging for worms in the garden, and solving murders. When she’s not at home, she’s usually galloping a magnificent steed somewhere.
She is also an homage to my grandmother. Myrtle Gail Wetherholt could knit, crochet, and sew. Her pie crusts were to die for, and she could whip up a meal for a dozen people in an hour and keep everyone entertained while she did it. She loved the outdoors, planting unusual seeds in her garden to see how they grew (cotton, peanuts, etc), and yes, digging up worms to take fishing with her.
My most important memories with her are the evenings that she entertained company. I would sit on the carpet by her chair, and she would run her hands down my hair, giving my shoulders a rub here and there, and tell stories of her youth. It was here that I learned to be a storyteller.
She’s been gone for 32 years now, and yet her wisdom and love and storytelling are still with me.
So you could say M.G. Wetherholt collaborated on this book with her granddaughter, Gayle Carline. And the only thing about our biography that isn’t true is that neither of us is a delicate lady.
Enjoy,
Gayle Carline
