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Green Valley by Katharine Reynolds
page 4 of 300 (01%)
rain. And I had had a tooth pulled in Paysandu, the second largest
city in Uruguay.

All that in three months! And there were still a million wonders to
see. I loved and shall always love these radiant, sun-drenched
uncrowded lands. But my heart was heavy as lead. For I was homesick.
My eyes were tired of alien starshine, of alien, unfamiliar things, and
my heart cried out for the little home towns of my own country.

But I could not go back for many, many months. So I learned Spanish
and hobnobbed with wonderfully wise and delightful Spanish
grandmothers. I grew to love some darling Indian babies. I
interviewed interesting South American cowboys and discussed war and
socialism with an Argentine navy officer. I exchanged calls and true
blue friendships with soft-voiced Englishwomen. And I took tea and
dinner aboard the ships of Welsh sea captains from Cardiff.

I had a wonderful time. I filled my notebook, took pictures and
collected souvenirs. I laughed and told stories. Folks down there
said I was good company.

But oh! In the hush of a rain-splashed night, when the fire in the
grate dozed and dreamed and a boat siren somewhere out on the inky La
Plata wailed and moaned through the black night, my heart flew back
over those gray-green waves to a little town that I knew in the U. S.
A. And to ease my longing I wrote Green Valley.

KATHARINE REYNOLDS.


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