Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 4 · column 1 of 9 · from the scan, no model involved
rounded by merkles in the back of his pickup truck, and two others of merkles growing in the leafy debris of a forest floor. In so far as I know, merkles do not grow, they suddenly, simply, are.
This visitor, I thought, since he was from Culpeper County and offering help to a resident of Rappahannock County, was a kind of latter day Samaritan, in the tradition of the earlier one who had given comfort and solace to a Judean in trouble. Consistent with the Biblical story, he promised to come back to give help if needed.
As the merkle season progressed this year, I waited for that nil with greater and greater anxiety. It never came.
As the end of April approached, I was near despair. In response to the barking of my dog, I went out of my house to find four prospecting merkle hunters. The leader asked me if he could take his band of merkle seekers across my yard to get to merkle country. I gave him permission, without hesitation, noting that he seemed to be a genuine merkle hunter, as did his silent companions. They carried paper sacks, rather than plastic ones. They were wearing the right kind of cap—an International Harvester Cap, a John Deere, and a Rappahannock County Co-op cap. They were all blue eyed.
Three hours later, I was alerted to their return from the hills by the barking of my dog. They had had a successful afternoon. They had merkles, but offered me none. The leader, however, said that he would return
81.3%