Reading My Antonia for the first time, and it is making me want to visit Nebraska. a first.
“All those fall afternoons were the same, but i never got used to them. As far as we could see, the miles of copper-red grass were drenched in sunlight that was stronger and fiercer than at any other time of the day. The blond cornfields were red and gold, the haystacks turned rosy and threw long shadows. The whole prairie was like the bush that burned with fire but was not consumed. That hour always had the exultation of victory, of triumphant ending, like a hero’s death–heroes who died young and gloriously. It was a sudden transfiguration, a lifting-up of day.
We stood there in friendly silence, while the feeble minstrel sheltered in Antonia’s hair went on with its scratchy chirp. The old man’s smile, as he listened, was so full of sadness, of pity for things, that I never afterward forgot it. As the sun sank there came a sudden coolness and the strong smell of earth and drying grass. Antonia and her father went off hand in hand, and I buttoned up my jacket and raced my shadow home.”
~Willa Cather, My Antonia
I’m only in the fourth chapter and already feeling nostalgic. :)