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Zora's Quilt

Zora's Quilt FICTION Mary Lynn White "You ain't gonna grow potatoes that way in this country," Zora called out as she walked heavily across the field toward me. I was energetically mixing some hard-earned goat manure into the soil. "You've got to give 'em some fertilizer if you want 'em to make. Right now and when they come up good. I got some 10-10-10 over't house," she offered, coming up beside me, bracing herself with the hoe she used as a walking stick. "Oh, no, I'm fine," I said, wiping my forehead with a goat-manured glove. I was proud of the fragrant droppings I had forked into the wheelbarrow and bumped down the path from the neighbor's farm. "This will do the trick. I think there's one more load in the barn yet." "Well, whatever you think," replied Zora. "No wonder your hands are so soft and pink, with you wearing them gloves. I never could stand 'em. Anyway, let me give you a hand," and she flipped the hoe around and started making trenches. When the potatoes were safely underground, we walked back to Zora's for a bowl of banana pudding. Though I'd been casually introduced to Zora by http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Zora's Quilt

White, Mary Lynn.
Appalachian Review , Volume 23 (3) – Jan 8, 1995
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
Publisher site
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Abstract

FICTION Mary Lynn White "You ain't gonna grow potatoes that way in this country," Zora called out as she walked heavily across the field toward me. I was energetically mixing some hard-earned goat manure into the soil. "You've got to give 'em some fertilizer if you want 'em to make. Right now and when they come up good. I got some 10-10-10 over't house," she offered, coming up beside me, bracing herself with the hoe she used as a walking stick. "Oh, no, I'm fine," I said, wiping my forehead with a goat-manured glove. I was proud of the fragrant droppings I had forked into the wheelbarrow and bumped down the path from the neighbor's farm. "This will do the trick. I think there's one more load in the barn yet." "Well, whatever you think," replied Zora. "No wonder your hands are so soft and pink, with you wearing them gloves. I never could stand 'em. Anyway, let me give you a hand," and she flipped the hoe around and started making trenches. When the potatoes were safely underground, we walked back to Zora's for a bowl of banana pudding. Though I'd been casually introduced to Zora by

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 1995

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