goodbye, kent haruf

I was saddened to learn of Kent Haruf’s passing this week. He was a fine writer and his imagined town of Holt, Colorado, was a place I enjoyed visiting through his numerous novels set  in those fictional high plains: “… the country flat and whitepatched with snow and the wheat stubble and the cornstalks sticking up blackly out of the frozen ground and the winter wheat showing up in the fall-planted fields as green as jewelry.”

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