A thin chill clings to the air here, and the scene that greets your vision is no more promising than the cold air. The ground is hard and rocky, but still there are things growing from it--for certain values of "growing."

Blocking your way through the narrow valley are a series of eight gnarled, thorny trees. Walking slowly amidst them, watering them with a pitcher of something that doesn't appear to be water, is a small blonde woman with distant eyes.