Creative Writing: Hart's Woods

The forest setting, with its dense karri trees and remote wilderness, becomes a metaphor for the characters' emotional and psychological isolation. It reflects the harshness of their circumstances and the relentless struggle for survival amidst unforgiving natural forces. Winton's descriptive prose captures the haunting beauty and desolation of the landscape, evoking a sense of foreboding and unease that mirrors the characters' inner turmoil. The young man's solitary journeys into the forest to gather wood highlight the isolation and loneliness he experiences, accentuated by the absence of human companionship and the oppressive silence of the wilderness. By immersing the characters in this stark and unforgiving setting, Winton underscores the pervasive sense of isolation and vulnerability that permeates their lives, reinforcing the theme of societal

The rain kept on hitting the top of my car as I drove down the old road, like how a woodpecker pecks holes into trees looking for bugs. The town of Tahlequah had really changed since I saw it last about 40 years ago. There were paved roads now and a bigger school. The small shops I remembered were now big Sears and Target stores. Busy people walked on sidewalks trying not to get rained on, and cars drove on, with so many miles to go. As I got farther out and the buildings started to trickle out into countryside, I noticed a new sound that rose above all the rest.

It was a short drive to the hotel, and the scenery was pretty cool, but I was really waiting for arrival time. I couldn't wait to see the hotel, and I had no clue what to expect. I eyes drifted out the window at all the tall trees on the hilly landscape. The trees filled the hill, and there was on sight of the forest floor. Birds of all sizes flew in and out of the forest, keeping a person looking at them and their home forever. But then the landscape began to change.

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

After two long hours of traveling with nothing to look at but the passing trees, we finally arrived at the farm. As we piled out of the car, I looked at the dirt road we came in on and turned to the house. It was one story and had a red tin roof, surrounded by a large grassy field and then woods beyond that. Twirling around, I walked into the house and plopped onto the closes bed. As everyone else unpacked, I locked myself in the room like a petulant child.

When you travel up the driveway, the property is invisible until you reach the crest of the hill and turn around a bank of evergreens. Suddenly you see an old farmhouse and a cottage with a large, scrubby lawn, a huge vegetable garden and a field of clover behind it all with the Skimmerhorn mountain range framing the back of the picture. If you’re lucky you may have startled some deer in the orchard that you probably didn’t notice driving by as you drank in the view. There is an openness but at the same time there are fir and tamarack trees, maple trees and Saskatoon shrubs marking off the border of seven acres of rural peace and quiet.

A Boston Case Study, much evidence has found that the increase in tree canopy distribution not only provides a foundation for conservation and preservation in an ecological sense, but it is also pleasing in aesthetic, social, and even cultural ways (Danford, et al., 2014). In another article titled Street and park trees of Boston: a comparison of urban forest structure the authors evaluate a tree canopy in relation to wildlife habitat management and a way for animals to migrate through cities (Welch, 2002). For many decades the improvement of underprivileged neighborhoods was looked at solely from an ecological and environmentally accommodating perspective. In the past ten to fifteen years the tide has turned and ecological endeavors may be

"Try not to go too deep into the woods, Viola." That's the one thing that father had dependably let me know. Every one of the grown-ups in the town said the same thing, so it appeared like a platitude told to kids who wanted to play in the woods. The wind blew, making my skirt and golden braids sway. Holding the hair out of my eyes, I turned upward. Through the holes in the green branches over my head, I could marginally see the blue sky. It was a hot summer afternoon, and there I was, in the forest. There was an incredible woodland close to Salem Town, the town I lived in. The forest, which was abundant year-round, was extremely helpful for the villagers. A prime example how it is useful to the daily life of the villagers in our modest little

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” Born and raised in a box where everyone knows everyone means that there’s always “go to” places. As we grow out of cleats and place dolls in the attic, the giant wooden obstacles that you know every nook and cranny too are now just tired playgrounds filled with new children left to discover those hidden spots. The man made lakes that left the smell of sweet summer and chlorine lingering in your hair and skin are now rain puddles. Places from childhood form who we are and create everlasting friendships but over time, as the leaves change in the seasons so can we.

It was a stormy night in august on the year 1880. There was lightning shooting across the sky lighting up the night like a flickering light bulb. There was a man walking across the Nevada landscape, in his long black trench coat soaked to the bone with his black cowboy hat covering his face just enough to cover his eyes. His colt 45 revolver glimmering on his hip from the lightning. He was approaching a lone house out in the Distance. It was a small 2 room log cabin with a man, his wife, and their 6 year old son Inside. The cabin was a dark mossy brown wood with a rock chimney and mud packed in the cracks to keep the rain and wind out. It had one window near the door. As the man approached the cabin his pace never faltered he was heading straight

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

As I walked through the woods behind the BMS building on the cool fall morning I searched for my "thinking spot". Each step I took came with crunch of a dried up leaves and sometimes a possible snap of a fallen stick beneath me on the forest floor. As I say against an old and big tree I felt the sun warm my leg as I took in the scenery. I looked around to see the usual fall woods, tree stumps, large trees and colorful leaves that coated the ground at my feet. In the distance I spotted out a house and could hear the chaos of construction of a new house being built. I pondered of what was here in this woods behind Biddeford Middle School years ago. Years and years before people could easily find themselves with nature. Now you turn you neck

However, Sarah’s life becomes muddled when her mother leaves her and her father in a small little town. With her mother gone, her father becomes numb, and Sarah has to fend for herself. She often ventures to the “Not-A-Forest” - a group of trees that had once been a forest - to escape the mess her life has warped into.

The brush was now cleared to the forest's edge. A forgotten pile of building material, a rusty old-field mower, Millie’s pile of rotten logs, and a large mound of topsoil lay uncovered. Inspired by what I had accomplished my dad helped me remove the junk, but this was really only the beginning. He then started up his tractor, and I watched as he pushed the rotten logs into a low spot in the woods, and spread the topsoil out over the newly cleared space.

As I left behind the somber forest, I now recognized an appreciation for nature that I did not realize I had. I now knew there was more to nature than just trees and animals, but also I found the