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Descriptive Essay About Home

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Ordinarily, traveling to the “middle of nowhere” is just that—going nowhere. However, to me it means the neighbor-less neighborhood, called backcountry. I live in the “middle of nowhere” for half of the time; the other half I live in an ever-growing college city, Columbia. I have cultivated a special appreciation for each journey home through the winding Missouri back roads that bring me to the place where my soul rests. Though the roads may take me to one of my houses, my home exists far beyond its walls. My country house itself sits front and center in our approximately 9 acres of land. Circling around the white two-story house there is a field full of soft milkweed, ticks, and various wild tall grasses. Years ago, someone decided to hack a path straight down the middle that cuts back to a creek that rests behind the house. The creek holds memories of my older sister, Natalie, and me roaming into the wilderness (our backyard) by ourselves. The creek became a whole new planet every visit. Finding one snapping turtle turned into a legendary story we brought up yearlong; the hollowed, gnarled oak stuck out so far over the little stream that we envisioned snoring black bears resting beneath. Chattering noisily about living in the woods as explorers, we kept active by trudging around the creek in knee-high mud boots that were two sizes too big. A couple of stray boots lost their lives to the mud that our twiggy legs could not suck out. But boots or no boots, I always trekked
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