Tag Archives: Emily Updegraff

Cracked Wheat

Montana mornings, when cold siphoned water out of air to paint feathers on windows, when breath clouded around us in white drifts at the bus stop, were mornings for cracked wheat. Steaming, soaked in milk and honey, we ate hard … Continue reading

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Carey, Idaho, 1953

Waist-high in golden alfalfa, still in Sunday clothes, mother and dad peaceably move up a generation. His wife lightly shifts the baby and smiles at her in-laws, a real smile, not the type she’ll flash in future photographs. Now, baby’s … Continue reading

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