Her writing is so vivid, you can see the yellow jam made from the ground cherries that grew prolifically on the prairie; you can almost hear the rustling of the red grasslands that once stretched forever across Nebraska. On the pages of Willa Cather’s novels, we first learn that she and her neighbors never went to their gardens without their “rattlesnake canes,” and they were always careful to aim the canes at those killers and not at the harmless yellow and brown bull snakes that kept


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