Friday, May 4, 2012
Question of the Week (5/4/12)
Write a short descriptive piece (250-500 words) about a time that you "went into the woods" and post an image from your own pictures or one that you've found on the internet. The image should relate to some part of your descriptive piece. Provide detail about what you saw and experienced. Think back to our reading of the excerpt from Thoreau's Walden. Be sure to post by Tuesday, May 8 and comment on another classmates' post.
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When I was younger my brother and I used to go on “expeditions” in the woods at our old house on Union Village road. We would pretend to be great explorers, like Lewis and Clark, on our way to discovering new land. We made believe that we were going off into unchartered territory, full of danger and discovery. One time we planned on leaving after lunch, and not coming home until it started to get dark. We were planning on going all the way to our previous house, on Bradley Hill road. It was only about a half hour hike through the woods, but we often took detours along the way. So, off we set with our backpacks, filled with snacks, and the necessary tools for an explorer. We had a compass, a whistle, and walking sticks. At first, the hike was relatively easy, because we were going on a gentle downward slope, and we did not get tired at the beginning. Then the land flattened out, and the trees got thicker and it was much more difficult to travel through the trees. We eventually made it out of the dense forest, and walked into a clearing of sorts. It was still in the woods, but there were no trees next to a big cliff where we sat down to eat our snack. After we ate, we climbed the rock to get to a higher elevation, and surveyed the area. On the way was a steep hill, which was the side of bradley hill, and our destination. Climbing the hill was very tiring, but we got to the house eventually. However, we did not have much time to relax and stay there, for the sun had begun to set and it was getting dark. We ran down the hill, passed through the clearing, and then had to slow down because the trees were getting thick again. We bushwhacked our way through, and got to the bottom of the hill which was where our house was. We were very tired now, but we jogged up the hill and reached our lawn. We were back to safety.
ReplyDeleteDoes anybody know how to add a picture? I tried dragging one in and it was just the description.
DeleteMaybe just post the link, that should be good enough.
DeleteI like your story. You do a good job of setting the scene, even without using sensory details.
DeleteWhen I was little, Emma, Aurora and I used to go out only a small walk from our house into the woods. There was a thicket of pines, clumped together to form a nearly impermeable wall. At the base of the trees, the branches stopped a few feet from the ground, just enough room to create a makeshift playhouse. My home is removed from the old dirt road we live on to begin with, and the small hike out to our group of pines left us completely surrounded by nature. No matter what time of year it was, whenever the urge struck us, we would pack up a picnic of Annie’s noodles and head beneath the pines. In May, birds and spring peepers would chirp. The soft ground was damp from the snow that had only recently melted. The cool air was made up for by the blanket we would wrap around ourselves. The sun would filter through the branches in summer, and bits of moss and grass sprouted around the outskirts of our fort. In October, the sweet smell of Autumn and apples circulated the fort. Around us the leaves of maples and beech trees began to fall, but the pine needles of our fort remained attached. And in the winter months, the three of us would bundle into swaths of clothing and head into the woods, one of us armed with a thermos of hot chocolate and another with noodles. We would shake out the trees before crawling under them, to rid them of as much snow as we could, but the occasional clump still crept under the collar of thick suits. Our natural fort survived all seasons. Even now, many years after our regular visits, I occasionally go down to visit our fort in the woods, under the pines.
ReplyDeleteLink to a photo:
http://homeguides.sfgate.com/DM-Resize/photos.demandstudios.com/getty/article/151/61/87814855.jpg?w=600&h=600&keep_ratio=1
Rebecca,
DeleteGreat story, I liked how you described the scene where you were surrounded by trees. Did you do any other activities in the woods?
-Jin Kim
Good job Rebecca. As always you use great sensory details and overlook nothing. I liked how you used consistent vocabulary words (that is, you didn't use "conversational" words in one place and more "academic" words in another). That gave your piece good pacing and flow.
DeleteWhen I lived in Pennsylvania, my neighborhood friends and I went into the woods and explored the woods. We found a “secret spot” and only exclusive members could be in. This secret spot was enshrouded by trees and a small creek traveled through an open area. This creek held many small creatures like crayfish and minnows. We brought nets to capture these animals and observe them. We decided to make a small fort in this open area. We used the branches and trunks to build a makeshift fort. The woods were very quiet and we felt trapped by the woods. No one could see us, this area allowed us to be away from our parents. We would often climb the trees and watch our neighborhood from this vantage point. During our lunch break, the neighborhood kids would bring sandwiches and other foods and put them in a pile so that everyone had a variety of foods to eat. The path to this open area was difficult to walk through because the woods were so dense. After the struggle, the woods opened up and the travel was well worth it. We could make all the noise we wanted because this was the only place where the adults couldn’t see us. There was always the risk of getting caught by the adults but the trees reassured us all and relieved our paranoid feelings. We chased each other in the woods with sticks and simulated battle scenes. During the summer, we used water guns to fight. The woods allowed us to be loud with out the consequences.
ReplyDeleteLink: http://www.google.com/imgres?q=woods&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&sa=N&rls=en&biw=1024&bih=873&tbm=isch&tbnid=0UHVp3HbmgruNM:&imgrefurl=http://www.lakeshorepreserve.wisc.edu/visit/billswoods.htm&docid=sCFpJErXoMIyEM&imgurl=http://www.lakeshorepreserve.wisc.edu/photo-gallery/billswoods/lg/BillsWoodsInvasivesRemoval_Cronon_DSC8509.jpg&w=800&h=532&ei=Qe6nT9KZGsaf6AGV3tC4BA&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=249&sig=112686458556885044294&page=2&tbnh=153&tbnw=204&start=16&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:16,i:178&tx=183&ty=98
I liked how you described the freedom of not being supervised, and made it seem like a secret society away from the adults. You did a great job describing the experiences and games you played in the woods, but your piece could be improved by going into greater detail about the woods and setting itself.
DeleteBehind my house is a steep wooded slope filled with all sorts of trees. There are tall, thick pines whose sticky sap gets all over your hands and never comes off. There are rough oaks, smooth maples, and several crabapple trees (which are probably the most hateful of the fruit bearing trees). I often leave the house around evening time and head towards the top of the wooded slope in hopes of finding a slice of silence to enjoy. The slope is steep, and studded with boulders. Large chunks of quartz emerge from the soft rotten ground. Dead sticks crackle underfoot, and the living branches poke and tear at any exposed skin. I am no athlete, so the uneven terrain is a challenge. I grab at roots, pulling and pushing through the wet, dead woods. There is no green down here. In a few minutes I reach my destination, a group of fallen trees. Two of the trees have fallen against each other, making a sort of triangle. The other one lies alone a little farther away. It’s an easy climb, as the trees are nearly horizontal and have lots of branches to hold on to. I make my way up about fifteen feet off the ground and settle down in a cradle of thick limbs. From here I can sit quietly and peruse a novel, or just observe the environment around me. The woods are much more enjoyable when one is sitting still. Birds move through the branches, hopping and fluttering like leaves in the wind. Squirrels lope across high branches with an easy grace. Corpulent brown toads loaf in the leaf litter. I have seen deer from atop this tree, and once I spotted a fox, though its stay with me was very brief. I am both terrified and intrigued by the possibility of seeing a black bear (once a bear knocked over our garbage bins and helped himself to our leftovers, but this was late at night). As the woods become dark, and the animals recede into the shadows to become night-time noises, I slip out of the fallen trees and hurry back down the slope. My time in the woods is over for now, and the animals and trees who make up this grey, moist wonderland will soon forget me
ReplyDeleteheres the picture http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/02/Crepuscular_rays_in_the_woods_of_Kasterlee,_Belgium.jpg
DeleteGreat job. I esspecialy liked the return part. The thing about they will forget you is a great sentance.
DeleteTwo or three years ago in the winter, my sister, brother, dad and I went out to Mount Moosilauke to stay in a cabin for two nights. We skied up the mountain, myself dragging the sled with all our supplies and food. When we got there, we started a fire in the stove and then set out on a short journey into the woods and back. Having returned, we set up the cabin without any difficulty since the fire had warmed the place up while we were gone. We set up a gas lamp that loomed over the room on it's thin and wobbly string, ready to fall at any moment. Once all was done, we started a delicious dinner of chicken curry and rice, while playing cards or some other form of packaged entertainment in the dimly lit room. Eventually, our company arrived on the scene with headlamps on and covered in snow. We had dinner, followed by chat and the brownie dessert. Although this sounds like it couldn't get much better, the fact of my sleeping was the other side of that. Since no one wanted to wake up to a cold cabin, I was nominated to be the one that would sleep on the floor next to the fire place and the one that was obligated to rekindle or relight the fire all through the night, so as one might guess I didn't sleep that well. The next day, we went on another hike, which consisted of x country skiing through the woods with no definable trail whatsoever. After getting lost a few times, we turned back towards the cabin. That night we had the same thing: cook dinner, play games, eat dinner, chat, sleep and get up to keep the fire running. In the morning however, we left without breakfast to hike around the mountain again, returning to the car at the bottom in the end to go home.
ReplyDeletePic: http://www.dartmouth.edu/~doc/cabins/descriptions/#greatbearcabin
Great write John! You did a really nice job describing and using sensory detail to describe your cabin and the excitement of that evening. One suggestion that I have is to write more about how you felt on this trip (what your feelings were about camping, maybe some reaction to events etc.)
DeleteOverall, nice job!
Kelsey
When I was around the age of nine or ten, I discovered two very important figures in my life- my new neighbor and the forest that surrounded my house. My new neighbor, Ila, had recently moved in and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. She was the free spirit that would walk barefoot any chance she got and would round up the neighborhood dogs to take them for a walk. At that time, I was still a small, tidy little girl who liked her matching socks and preferred to maintain peace and quiet. However, I was beginning to breach that period in my life where I was looking for freedom and independence from the house and family. With the help of Ila, the stars aligned, and I sought that refuge and that freedom with her, in our own backyards. Even though I had already lived there for a few years, it was the newcomer Ila who introduced me to all of the adventures that the natural world had to offer. It started off simply, we came upon this little stream on a waning summer day, where I was convinced to shed my shoes and jacket to plunge my feet into the stream. The refreshingness that jolted us both out of the ditzy summer haze left an impression, and from that day on, we were both hooked. At least every afternoon of that fall, we would traverse our way through the immaculate development that we lived in, to set foot in a world that made me feel fulfilled with the sheer disorder. The knarled roots of a fallen tree, with clods of dirt and rocks fell perfectly to create a little shelter for us to create as our home away from home. The patches of bright green moss that covered many a rock, I realized, were soft enough to rub my cheek against. The large sheets of bedrock that rose into miniature cliffs were a perfect place to find perfect solitude and silence. Rapidly, this spot in the woods transformed from an unknown location to a place we both sought to gain a sense of freedom we couldn’t have enclosed within 4 walls. We found the best rock protruding from the stream to hop across to prevent getting soaked. We found branches to ceremonially carve out walking sticks to explore through any condition. We even created a name… Fernbury, for our location and a chant to go with it. Although now, Ila and I are both older, we have less time to go to Fernbury. When Ila began having more and more schoolwork, Fernbury was the place I would go when I wanted some downtime, or was lonely. Now for both of us, Fernbury is no longer a regularly visited place. We both now have little time for “child’s play” and more time for homework, sports, and friends. Despite this, I cannot be more grateful nor more appreciative of how not so long ago, those days in Fernbury shaped not only a long lasting friendship, but also strongly influenced who and what I am today.
ReplyDelete/Users/sae-imsmith/Desktop/Picture 2.png
Great job Kelsey!
DeleteI loved how you talked a lot about the sense of freedom that you could embrace from your special spot. I also really enjoyed reading all of the sensory details such as the green moss that you described as "soft enough to rub you cheek against". It was also great how you ended by talking about what your experience there meant to you.
Awesome job!
-Karina
Kelsey, I love this story. Your sensory details are good, and you really bring your reader into the story with you. I can completely imagine the place you described. Great job!
DeleteI have never been much of a risk taker, so when my friend and I decided to explore an unfamiliar path in the woods, it wasn’t exactly stress-free. This path is right down the road from my house, at a swimming hole we visit countless times over the summer. Since jumping off the dock there and bracing ourselves for the ice-cold water has become routine, it’s not a surprise that we were in search of something new and different to explore. One day after a numbing dip in the water, we were drying off and got the idea to explore a hiking path nearby. Having visited the swimming hole so many times, this path had always been of interest, but we’d never taken the time to follow through with the idea of investigating it. On this day, however, we decided on a whim to set out down the trail without any plan of how far we would go. At first, we took to sprinting past the trees, dodging the root-infested ground as our bare feet hit the soil. We soon slowed to a walk, and it wasn't until shortly after this that we realized how far we'd actually gone. As our panting slowed and the two of us became quieter, the sounds of nature encompassed us. A sudden sense of being extremely small in such a large expanse of forest overcame me. With this growing feeling of being alone, we also started to pay more attention to the noises around us. In only a few moments, I seemed to hear every chirp of a bird and rustle of the grass. Suddenly, we heard an exceptionally loud rustle in the bushes, triggering our heartbeats. With only a quick glance at each other with our darting eyes, we spun around and charged back toward the swimming hole. Somehow, the path seemed impossibly long now that there was a possibility of danger behind us. As the light of the clearing at the start of the trail came into view, a feeling of relief swept over the two of us. It wasn't until we were back at our beach blanket, though, that we felt completely safe. We didn’t plan on going into the woods again any time soon.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.google.com/imgres?q=hiking+trail&num=10&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&rls=en&biw=1027&bih=576&tbm=isch&tbnid=X_Uc5SLpytOqKM:&imgrefurl=http://www.discoverohiopyle.com/photo_album.html&docid=ZOJ_iEEaVP8PjM&imgurl=http://www.discoverohiopyle.com/images/Ohiopyle_hiking_trail.JPG&w=1600&h=1200&ei=IkyoT6yKDMaH6QHS_pzNBA&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=124&vpy=199&dur=155&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=166&ty=122&sig=112932384096030239309&sqi=2&page=1&tbnh=161&tbnw=227&start=0&ndsp=8&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:125
Great paper Karina,
DeleteI thought you did really well describing all the small details, your bare feet hitting the soil, and the chilling water of your childhood pool. Nothing really negative to say, I thought you did well.
Ross
I thought that the paper was really nicely done. It gave a sense like you could imagine the fear you actually felt. Great job Karnina.
DeleteWhen I was younger, my family and I used to spend every summer at my grandparents’ house in Ashland, New Hampshire, right next to Squam Lake. We had a lot of free time, and we spent most if it outdoors. One of our most common adventures, besides swimming, was hiking Rattlesnake Mountain. Every time we had nothing planned for the day, which was often, we would drive down to the trails and start to walk. Many of my childhood memories were formed on that mountain.
ReplyDeleteRattlesnake was a relatively small mountain, but it still took about an hour for us to climb, especially with my short legs and equally short stamina. There was a trail blazed straight up the side of the mountain, through any obstacles in the way, in order to give visitors a direct route to the top. Once I entered this trail, it was like the rest of the world disappeared. I was completely surrounded by the peace of nature as I quietly labored my way to the top.
Hiking up Rattlesnake was like taking a walk through the woods at an incline. I was surrounded by nature and fresh air. It was like I had all the time in the world. I didn’t have to think about school and other commitments. Those things didn’t exist in that world. Being the little kid I was, everywhere I looked, I saw things I could pick up, examine, and collect. I was enormously happy. The trail held new wonders for me every time we visited. I would run ahead up the path, away from my family, and spend time crouching on rocks and climbing trees to discover what was different since I’d last been there. I had a wild curiosity, and the woods on Rattlesnake Mountain helped me satisfy it.
View from the top of Rattlesnake:
http://www.fotoblography.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/west-rattlesnake-small.jpg
Nice job, Olly! I liked the details you had that talked about how you felt when you climbed up Rattlesnake mountain.
DeleteThroughout my life, I have mostly lived in urban areas with dense populations and little room for woods or forests. Before I moved to America, I lived in such highly populated cities that I thought New Jersey was a remote and desolate area. And so I have not been able to visit any woods before my move to Hanover. However, I clearly remember a 2 ½ day trip that my 5th grade class took to Camp Bernie, a very popular summer camp in the area. It was located in Port Murray, an isolated and scenic town in Central Jersey.. I was really excited about this trip. I had bought plenty of new winter gear, and I was itching to try out my new green sleeping bag. Although it was late November in a particularly mild start to the winter season, all of the kids were equipped with heavy parkas and camping gear. I was one of the very few kids who had never gone camping, so I needed some help from my friends to set up my stuff. Although I do not remember my cabin’s name, I do remember that it was supposed to be haunted. I had no idea how my classmates knew anything about the story, but I was a gullible kid, and I believed it. The cabin had a pretty large living room with a fireplace. There were two bedrooms, with a bathroom for each. About 10 kids were cramped into a room. We did not have time to enjoy these accommodations, however, as our days and nights at the camp were fully booked. During the days, we had extremely entertaining activities. The one that stands out the most in my mind is candle-making. Each member of my class was given one wick, and we were to dip it in different waxes to create colorful and varying candles. Wax, water, wax, water, we dipped away to our heart’s content. At the end, I was the last one still able to keep dipping my wick into the wax. My candle turned out to be the biggest one out of all the participants, and I still have it, and I only light it every year on my birthday. A different, outdoor, activity that I remember was held by the nearby stream. You had to partner up, find any sort of insect life in the stream and place it in the bucket. Although my partner and I caught only a couple, the highlight of the activity was when I nearly fell into the pond. At the last moment, I grabbed onto a rock and hoisted myself up back to dry land. My hands were soaking wet and insanely cold!
ReplyDeleteI don’t remember the trip very clearly, but it was an enjoyable and exciting 2 ½ days of my life.
http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6039/5899252267_80c9bbed79_z.jpg
Willa Kaufman
ReplyDelete5/7/12
Piro English 9
This past fall, my family and some of my family friends, and I went on a sort of tour together. We went on a long walk through the woods nearby the Dartmouth Skiway. The tour-guides were a man and his wife who study bears and their habits. They themselves raise bears and learn from them how they communicate with each other and many other things about them. The experience was wonderful. I saw trees with gouge marks in them from the bears’s claws. I even saw a cave that a bear would use to hibernate in, in the winter. The place was beautiful. I thought it was very relaxing to hike through these woods. There were no intruding noises that we could hear. There were no cars or motorcycles, nothing was audible other than the chirping of birds and, every now and then, an interesting piece of information about the bears. The man told us about bears he had raised and set back into the wild and bears he was still raising. We learned about the “migrating” patterns the bears take based on the food that is available in different seasons for them. We had the privilege to see a couple of bear cubs who were sleeping high up in the trees together. It was obvious that the man and his wife are very passionate about what they do. It was really nice for me to see how, even now, how some people still care about animals and their environment.
http://www.google.com/imgres?q=pic+of+bear&hl=en&safe=off&client=safari&sa=X&rls=en&biw=1095&bih=547&tbm=isch&prmd=imvns&tbnid=25BhP4qiMXcAeM:&imgrefurl=http://manhattaninfidel.com/2009/07/&docid=nZPnL3hgHHEfrM&imgurl=http://manhattaninfidel.com/__oneclick_uploads/2009/04/black-bear-0009.jpg&w=360&h=298&ei=XnKoT52MFNP46QHEv-2nBA&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=2&sig=111316604752179911329&page=1&tbnh=166&tbnw=246&start=0&ndsp=8&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:0,i:78&tx=631&ty=240
Cape Cod, Spring 2012
ReplyDeleteThe sand seems to stretch for miles in all directions. The faint blue gleam of the horizon is the only sign that the ocean has gone out for low tide, and not simply vanished. Looking over my shoulder, I can barely see the sparkling color of the cars in the parking lot. A sudden gust of salty wind whips by, carrying the distant voices of my family. Then all is still again. I continue walking but suddenly stop as I become fully aware of what I am doing. Looking back behind me, I see as if it were the tracks of a giant treading through a windswept desert. Each time a foot was laid on the sand, a tiny ripple in the sand left by the receding waves was destroyed. Even though the tide would return and repair the damage in only a few hours, I felt that I had marred the perfect landscape no man could ever replicate. I stand still, leaning slightly into the wind with my eyes closed. Immediately my other senses sharpen to compensate for the loss of sight. I can taste the salt in the wind as I breathe in through my mouth, and smell the fish as I do so through my nose. Every exposed inch of skin can feel the gentle ocean breeze, and I am slightly surprised to find that I can tell the sun is going down. When at last I open my eyes, I discover that the sun is indeed setting. The ball of dark orange fire seems to sink into the depths of the water, spreading its colors across the horizon in a final display of its glory. The waves begin to come slightly closer, as the moon pulls the water back out of low tide. I retrace my footsteps back to where my family is gathered, but stay slightly behind them as we walk back to the car, unwilling to break the beautiful silence. As my dad starts the engine, it is as if my connection to the ocean is cut off—abruptly. All of the worries and cares of life seemed to crash back over me like an icy wave, as if the sea wanted revenge for being lured into an only temporary friendship.
Ms. Piro: see email for picture
ReplyDeleteSo this one time, when I was about seven years old, my brother Des and I got lost in the woods. I used to live on MacDonald Drive. This is a street up on Wheelock Hill which also happens to be next to Balch Hill. Almost every summer day, my whole family would take a trip up to Balch Hill and have a picnic there. One summer day our friends from Chicago (the Doyles), came up to visit us. They had this dog named Sammy and he was kind of a scary dog… as far as miniature schnauzers go. He would only bark at people who ran and whenever he barked, Des and I would run away in fear.
ReplyDeleteWe began to hike up the hill and Des and I ran up in front of the group. Sammy began to yip at us which only propelled us quicker up the hill. Des and I knew the way up, that was easy… but since we were young and afraid of small dogs, we bolted to the point where nobody else could see us. We got to the top of the hill and hid from the whole party, even though they were calling our names. We stayed up there for a while and eventually the sounds of my mom died out. Once that happened Des and I got out of our hiding spots and began to descend the hill. One problem, we couldn't remember the way we came up. We tried almost every route down, but couldn't find the one trail that we got up. Only later did I realize that the way we came up was a side route off of the main route. Had we simply stepped to the side of the trail, we could've gotten home in a heartbeat, after relentless searching, we decided to stay atop the hill in wait of a rescue. We waited for what seemed like hours, but came to the conclusion that we had to get down the mountain by ourselves. We made our way down the most promising trail and came out near one of our friend's houses. Des and I looked at each other and knew that we could both get home. After maybe 30 minutes of walking, we came to our house and nothing really happened, no heroic welcomes or anything. But I guess it was my fault anyway.
http://www.google.com/imgres?um=1&hl=en&sa=N&authuser=0&biw=1280&bih=705&tbm=isch&tbnid=H80l_FM7NU9dRM:&imgrefurl=http://victoriasouzablog.com/2009/04/22/karli-andy-hanover-nh-engagement-session-photos/&docid=D_0UcKepB1q6fM&imgurl=http://victoriasouzablog.com/blogphotos/karliandy/hanover_new_hampshire_dartmouth_engagement_wedding_1.jpg&w=1000&h=667&ei=wyqpT6r1JsnF6QHH84CZBA&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=186&vpy=169&dur=910&hovh=183&hovw=275&tx=121&ty=123&sig=108486197450661268423&page=1&tbnh=163&tbnw=207&start=0&ndsp=15&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:75
Hey Ross I really loved this short story, you really used great sensory details and you had me hooked from the start.
DeleteWay to Go
Many people believe that solace can be found in the woods, that you can find yourself among the towering pines of the forest; I do not believe that the forest is as romantic as some people paint it, but it is special. I go into the forest a great deal and one recent time I remember quite vividly was going hunting with my dad and my uncles. We were hunting for small game birds such as partridge and woodcock. Those types of small game birds love the dense brush of the alders to the open forest, which humans prefer. Trying to move through the alders is painstakingly slow, they only grow on wetlands so the ground is muddy and is impossible to get a firm footing on, the alders are dense and one hand must be kept in front of my face at all times to prevent the whippy branches from poking my face and eyes. The sky is dark and grey, it does not look like rain but it is unlikely that the clouds will burn off anytime soon, the air is cool and my hands soon become chilled gripped tightly around the 20-gauge shotgun I hold. My father is about fifty yards to my right and the river is about ten to my left, the morning is quite with no sound but the swift flow of the river and the occasional chirp of nervous songbirds. For the first hour I had been on edge waiting for the explosion of flapping wings that would mean a bird had been scared up. The three dogs work efficiently in front of me, keeping a steady canter with their nose to the ground, trying to pick up the sent of an unwary bird. Eventually we push out of the thick alders and reach the bank of the river, which had been to my left. We failed to push anything out that morning but I was content, I wasn’t a very good shot and the likelihood of actually hitting a bird was slim for me. I just liked being out in the woods.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteHere's my picture
Deletehttp://www.google.com/imgres?q=forest+river&num=10&um=1&hl=en&biw=1680&bih=864&tbm=isch&tbnid=s62VNHmS2DuGMM:&imgrefurl=http://zhiboedov.com/watercolors2.html&docid=m9dy8zJ_8sYonM&imgurl=http://zhiboedov.com/images/forestriver2.jpg&w=600&h=456&ei=FCypT961NoPN6QHC4MnRBA&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=189&vpy=192&dur=1564&hovh=196&hovw=258&tx=220&ty=128&sig=116502699463955220200&sqi=2&page=1&tbnh=149&tbnw=196&start=0&ndsp=28&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:125
When I was younger, about 9 years old, every winter my neighbor Brendan, my brother, and I would go out into the woods and become Ushies. Ushies was something my neighbor and brother made up. We would get on our knees to walk and we could run as well. We would usually play this in the woods behind my house. The woods were clear as you went in, but got thicker the farther in you went. There would be snow constantly falling from the tree branches. We would travel all the way to this sugar shack in the woods. The trees became denser, there was more snow falling, and it became colder as we moved on. The snow was whipping at our faces, and it became harder to see. There was this small stream that we had cross over to get to the shack. Brendan and my brother crossed with ease, but me being smaller I couldn’t step as far. When I stepped, I stepped on a patch of snow that had no support underneath. My foot went right through into the stream, The water was freezing and I almost lost my balance. I now had a waterlogged boot, but I continued with my brother and Brendan. We were all starting to get a little hungry, and we still hadn’t found the shack yet. Just as we were getting ready to turn around, we saw it. The shack was covered in snow, the door was hard to open because it was so rusty. We looked inside and immediately became creped out. We then all decided to turn around. We ran back through the woods. The wind was stronger now, and we were bumping into all the branches. We kept running till we came to the stream, we crossed it carefully so that we wouldn’t fall in. Then we ran again. Snow was falling in our coats, and we were dying from the cold. When we saw my house we ran as fast as we could. We got to the house went inside and had hot chocolate until we were toasty warm.
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ReplyDeleteJoe Williams
ReplyDeleteWhen I was younger, my grandfather took me and my brother out into the woods for a long walk. We walked around the woods with no motive or goal, we just looked at stuff. We explored our property completely, exploring every crevasse and every ditch. My brother found a cave which is the coolest thing on our property by far. It was impossible to spot any houses or roads but we were nowhere near as excluded as Thoreau was in Walden. What I loved most about the walk was when we came across the swamp. It was amazingly green and luscious. There was a surprising amount of birds, I thought they would all be flying far above the canopy. I was very disappointed that we saw nothing bigger than a squirrel though. After around an hour we sat down on a huge mossy ledge and ate some sandwiches. I remember them tasting so much better than usual. I now realize that the hungrier someone is, the butter everything tastes. Sometimes I wonder how Chris and Thoreau could each such dull or gross things to survive, but is someone is hungry enough, anything edible tastes good. I would like to do this again but actually spend the night one time. I don’t know why I have never gone camping o my own property, it is a superb place to stay. I visit the cave that my brother found every few months in the winter and summer. Both my trip, and Thoreau’s, made us feel at peace.
Link: http://www.google.com/imgres?q=forest&num=10&um=1&hl=en&biw=1152&bih=895&tbm=isch&tbnid=QmjfLOee_PqHIM:&imgrefurl=http://forestry.ky.gov/Kentuckysstateforests/Pages/TygartsStateForest.aspx&docid=IbxT6EAaT8p8hM&imgurl=http://forestry.ky.gov/Kentuckysstateforests/PublishingImages/TygartsStateForest.jpg&w=1656&h=1242&ei=Bj-pT-idF-XG6gHK273FBA&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=302&vpy=533&dur=4340&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=92&ty=215&sig=103116967256253254080&sqi=2&page=1&tbnh=147&tbnw=186&start=0&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:11,s:0,i:175
I like how you talk about food tasting better when you're hungry, and the way you connect your experience to Thoreau's. Great Job!
DeleteLast summer I went camping with one of my friends. I had not been camping since I was about five years old so it was something that was new and exciting for me. WE drove about an hour to a small clearing in the woods. Nearby was a nice stream to swim in, although the water was freezing cold the heat tempted us to jump in. Me and my friend set up our tent and when we were done we filled it with blankets and pillows and flashlights. While the camp fire was being set up we went for a walk exploring deeper into the woods. We heard animals in the woods. Some trees were very old and you could tell that they could fall at any moment, others were new and fresh, ready to grow as tall as they could. I loved camping because of how peaceful it was. I could actually hear myself think. The forest is calming, and the deeper you go, the cooler it is since the trees provide shade for me. Jumping into the stream was freezing cold, I couldn't stay in too long but when I got hot enough I jump and cool off immediately. Staying by the campfire was a fun experience, making smores was my favorite part. When the morning came I was sad because I knew that we had to leave the beautiful spot we had stayed in. I loved how at night I could hear things in the woods that you could not hear in the city. Camping is one of my favorite things.
ReplyDeleteNice job Tristan. I really liked the descriptions you used about the woods. I think a bit more about how you felt in the woods, camping out, would have also been great. Overall great work.
DeleteOwen
Last summer I spent a lot of my time ‘out in the woods’ chilling in the shade. I am an avid mountain biker and enjoy spending time in the woods, even just sitting in the woods not biking. One day in particular stands out in my memory. It was a sweltering yet clear July day. I had just gotten out from work and was ready to stretch my legs and go out for a bike. I hopped on my bike and rode along the road down to the nearby pond. By the pond there is a lengthy, straight, and strenuous trail up the face of a steep hill. It is one of my least favorite hills to climb because it takes so much out of you, but it also gives me the biggest feeling “Ha, I just did that!” when I’ve reached the top. The majority of the trail is close, densely surrounded by trees, and hot. I listened to the chatter of squirrels and the creaking of trees and I swore my way up the hill. Each drop and rise of my feet nearly lost me my balance as I slowly skidded and shimmied my way up the incline. When I came out onto the hill top I had one of the greatest sensations, a cool breeze on my smoldering face. After that I placed my bike on a rock and sat down in the shade of a stunted browing fur tree. I was several miles from anyone, tired, and content. I was sitting on the top of a hill in the deep woods of Maine and I was glad nobody was around. There are times when an utter lack of human contact can be the best way to come to peace. It allowed me feel free and self sufficient without putting anything at risk. However a constant lack of contact with other people and even a constant contact with them can cause one to feel closed in and unnatural. That day on top of the hill was my time to rest my spirit. As soon as I went back down I knew I would be caught up in the chaos of a large family vacation, but it was okay, I could handle it.
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