"She of course believed in witches, although she never considered herself one; the witches would come at night crying or swearing, and would perch on the roof of the house; their demands had to be satisfied. My grandmother knew of some exorcism that prevented witches from doing too much harm. She knew that the hills were sacred places full of mysterious creatures and animals, not only those used for work or food. There was something above and beyond the realm of our senses; every plant, every tree could exhale a mystery that she would know about. When she walked around she would question the trees and, in fits of anger, sometimes slap them. I remember my grandmother, in a rainstorm, hitting a palm tree. What could that tree have done to her? Some betrayal, some slight, and she would answer back by slapping the tree..."