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Winter Wheat
by Mildred Walker, James Welch   4.03 avg rating — 739 ratings
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3 editions
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The Curlew's Cry
by Mildred Walker, Mary Clearman Blew 4.02 avg rating — 42 ratings
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published
1994
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Fireweed
by Mildred Walker, A. Smith, Annick Smith   3.61 avg rating — 28 ratings
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published
1994
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The Southwest Corner
by Mildred Walker, Ripley Hugo 4.12 avg rating — 24 ratings
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published
1981
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2 editions
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The Quarry
4.00 avg rating — 20 ratings
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published
1947
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2 editions
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Light from Arcturus
by Mildred Walker, Mildred Swander , Mary Swander (Goodreads Author) 3.62 avg rating — 16 ratings
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published
1995
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The Brewers' Big Horses
by Mildred Walker, David Y. Budbill , David Budbill 4.46 avg rating — 13 ratings
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published
1996
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Dr. Norton's Wife
by Mildred Walker, David Y. Budbill , David Budbill 3.80 avg rating — 15 ratings
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published
1996
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If a Lion Could Talk
by Mildred Walker, James Welch 3.79 avg rating — 14 ratings
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published
1970
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2 editions
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Unless the Wind Turns
by Mildred Walker, Deirdre McNamer 3.50 avg rating — 10 ratings
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published
1996
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“And you've gone on all these years hating each other. Gil felt that hate. He could tell just being here. That's one of the things that drove him away from here, from me...'
Mom was still so long I looked up at her...She shook her head.
...'No, Yelena, I never hate Ben an' Ben don't hate me. Gospode Boge! I love him here so all these years!' Mom touched her breast and her face broke into life. Her eyes were softer. 'Me hate Ben!' she laughed...
I couldn't look at her, but I had to say what was in my mind. 'But all these years, even when I was a child, I've felt that you hated each other. When I heard you that night you both sounded cold and hard.'
Mom made a sound of disgust in her throat. 'That don't mean nothing. We get mad, sure! Like ice an' snow an' thunder an' lightning storm, but they don't hurt the wheat down in the ground any.' Mom picked up her whitewash brush and slapped it against the rough boards. 'Yolochka, you don't know how love is yet.'
...She finished her wall and poured the whitewash that was left back in the bigger pail. 'You can write that young Gil of yours that he don't know what he think he does. Sure, we fight sometime, but we got no hate here.”
― Mildred Walker, Winter Wheat
Mom was still so long I looked up at her...She shook her head.
...'No, Yelena, I never hate Ben an' Ben don't hate me. Gospode Boge! I love him here so all these years!' Mom touched her breast and her face broke into life. Her eyes were softer. 'Me hate Ben!' she laughed...
I couldn't look at her, but I had to say what was in my mind. 'But all these years, even when I was a child, I've felt that you hated each other. When I heard you that night you both sounded cold and hard.'
Mom made a sound of disgust in her throat. 'That don't mean nothing. We get mad, sure! Like ice an' snow an' thunder an' lightning storm, but they don't hurt the wheat down in the ground any.' Mom picked up her whitewash brush and slapped it against the rough boards. 'Yolochka, you don't know how love is yet.'
...She finished her wall and poured the whitewash that was left back in the bigger pail. 'You can write that young Gil of yours that he don't know what he think he does. Sure, we fight sometime, but we got no hate here.”
― Mildred Walker, Winter Wheat
“The words came so fast they seemed to roll down hill. Nobody ever calls it all that; it's just spring wheat, but I like the words. They heap up and make a picture of a spring that's slow to come, when the ground stays frozen late into March and the air is raw, and the skies are sulky and dark”
― Mildred Walker, Winter Wheat
― Mildred Walker, Winter Wheat
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