Descriptive Essay About A Shack

1095 Words5 Pages
Back in 1981, my dad, uncle, aunt and grandpa all helped work on building a shack in the middle of the woods. At the time it was built, none of them could have imagined what it would mean to the family today. I bet, back during that summer, they were only concerned with where the deer were, but although the deer have moved on from that area, the shack still sees widespread use. Now days, we use it for a place to sleep before going out duck hunting because of the Willow River and the many logans that surround it. On the contrary, the shack gets used for one, non hunting event, every year: the spaghetti feed. Because of its importance, the shack is instrumental in bringing the family together. When I was a little boy, only about five years old, I spent my first night at the shack. Before this I had only heard of the shack and what it looked like: barn shaped; red, chink-board siding all surrounded by trees. Now that I am finally able to go up there, I can not wait to see it for myself. The ride to the shack was nothing standard; we had to take four wheelers through some hay fields, then get on a county road and drive to the north for a while. After that we turn off, onto a trail along the ditch bank near the rice paddies and follow that until we get to a clearing in the woods. At the clearing there is not much to see; just some trees on the outside, on the left there is a 1960s looking Mack truck parked by the ditch bank, and to the right is the way to the shack. The road is nothing more than matted down grass, about 18 feet wide, through the woods, and as we continue through the woods I can smell the scent of grasses and flowers, along with the smell of exhaust from the vehicle in front of us. Riding along the trail for a while longer, I can finally see it, pushing through the trees, the shack. Getting closer, I can smell the smoke from the wood stove, or maybe the firepit. In front, the deck juts out from the front of the building, like a branch on a tree. On the north side of the yard is a large woodpile, it smells of balsam and pine, and to the right of that is the old, dilapidated building my dad and uncle lived in while building the shack. To the south of the clearing is the fire pit, with a pile of
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