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Page 18 · column 2 of 5 · from the scan, no model involved
are crazy about dry wood, this kindlin’ wood. They’re crazy about that. I had all of it laying out in the yard, but they was getting it so fast, at night, I had to either put it in or do without. Just kept a-stealing it. They was bumming it faster than I was burning it.”
“YOU CAN see. Come on in,” she said. “Step on this old coat. It don’t matter, it’s just my every day coat,” she said, refering to a coat that lay across the door sill, where she’d been sitting.
All that stove wood takes up more than half the small square room. Miss Anna’s bed takes up most of the remaining space. It abuts the wall on the far side. There’s a narrow aisle between the wood and the bed from the front door of her house straight to the little wood stove, which connects by a curved tin pipe to the chimney.
The stove is the only “appliance” in Miss Anna’s “kitchen.” She has a low wooden chest, and sitting atop it are a jar of pickles, a bottle of ginger ale, a half pint of milk, several cans of food and a carton of eggs.
More cartons of eggs sat atop
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