1 She was very fond of sweets, and was afraid of growing too plump.
2 There were some ground-cherry bushes growing along the furrows, full of fruit.
3 It was growing dark when we got to their house, but I refused to go in with them and get warm.
4 WHILE THE AUTUMN COLOUR was growing pale on the grass and cornfields, things went badly with our friends the Russians.
5 She leaned her chin on her hand and looked down through the orchard, where the sunlight was growing more and more golden.
6 Beyond the corncribs, at the bottom of the shallow draw, was a muddy little pond, with rusty willow bushes growing about it.
7 The growing piles of ashes and cinders in the back yards were the only evidence that the wasteful, consuming process of life went on at all.
8 The fields below us were dark, the sky was growing pale, and that forgotten plough had sunk back to its own littleness somewhere on the prairie.
9 When boys and girls are growing up, life can't stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no.
10 A great chunk of the shore had been bitten out by some spring freshet, and the scar was masked by elder bushes, growing down to the water in flowery terraces.
11 He was a handsome one, this chap, fair-skinned and freckled, with red cheeks and a ruddy pelt as thick as a lamb's wool, growing down on his neck in little tufts.
12 The land was growing rougher; I was told that we were approaching Squaw Creek, which cut up the west half of the Shimerdas' place and made the land of little value for farming.
13 If I loitered on the playground after school, or went to the post-office for the mail and lingered to hear the gossip about the cigar-stand, it would be growing dark by the time I came home.
14 It seemed as if we could hear the corn growing in the night; under the stars one caught a faint crackling in the dewy, heavy-odoured cornfields where the feathered stalks stood so juicy and green.
15 About us it was growing darker and darker, and I had to look hard to see her face, which I meant always to carry with me; the closest, realest face, under all the shadows of women's faces, at the very bottom of my memory.
My Antonia By Willa CatherContextHighlight In BOOK 4. The Pioneer Woman's Story: IV 16 Black Hawk, the new world in which we had come to live, was a clean, well-planted little prairie town, with white fences and good green yards about the dwellings, wide, dusty streets, and shapely little trees growing along the wooden sidewalks.