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I ? \S \ *· Lon St Aunt Millie worked, her back to the fire, leatherbritches skin the color of apple butter smelling of the fires that had warmed her rooms September through April for sixty years. Nighttimes she banked the coals and mornings blew them alive again. Oak, hickory, pine, dogwood, cedar, fir left what would not be consumed by flames: ashes, incense in the air. Her quilt grew as the stitches went, no less cherished for being quickly done, ajoseph's coat-of-many-colors, friendship quilt, cover for her bed filled with names she knew better than she remembered: Cara, Rose, May, Ella, Arie, Emmaline, Maggie, Sarah, Mary Pearl, Martin who in times ago had warmed her days now would warm her nights when rush of wind entered through broken chinks or around a window-light, fire and quilt to warm where few things are left to burn in November.
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jan 8, 1981
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