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Different Worlds

Different Worlds Sidney Saylor Farr Appalachian Heritage, Volume 27, Number 4, Fall 1999, p. 48 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.1999.0066 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/435538/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 20:00 GMT from JHU Libraries of dirt high into the air before they scattered across the yard. "Kill anything?" she asked, without glancing at him. "Why no. You ever knowed of me to?" Finally she looked up and smiled a thin line. He bent down to help her. The sharp sound of breaking stalks chattered between them on the cold morning. "You ought to concentrate more on something like this," she said. "You always was a good hand in the garden." She put another handful in and shook the paper bag so the dirt would gather at the bottom. "It's a lot better way, if you ask me. Raising food beats killing it anyday." He said nothing, but nodded in agreement. He noticed that the mist was moving down over them. Soon it would turn into a thin line that hung over the creek before it faded into nothing but air. Another shot rang out on the high ridge, but neither of http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

Sidney Saylor Farr Appalachian Heritage, Volume 27, Number 4, Fall 1999, p. 48 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.1999.0066 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/435538/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 20:00 GMT from JHU Libraries of dirt high into the air before they scattered across the yard. "Kill anything?" she asked, without glancing at him. "Why no. You ever knowed of me to?" Finally she looked up and smiled a thin line. He bent down to help her. The sharp sound of breaking stalks chattered between them on the cold morning. "You ought to concentrate more on something like this," she said. "You always was a good hand in the garden." She put another handful in and shook the paper bag so the dirt would gather at the bottom. "It's a lot better way, if you ask me. Raising food beats killing it anyday." He said nothing, but nodded in agreement. He noticed that the mist was moving down over them. Soon it would turn into a thin line that hung over the creek before it faded into nothing but air. Another shot rang out on the high ridge, but neither of

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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