Descriptive Essay - The Old Root Cellar

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The Old Root Cellar

Our summer trips to Colorado seemed to take forever. I was an eager four year old child who couldn't wait to get to my secret place. Every child has a special place: it might be a fort made out of sheets and couple of chairs, or maybe it's an easy chair that serves as a stage coach or a fighter plane. Maybe its a bed that becomes a ship protecting you from sharks. My special place was at my grandparents farm. My childhood was spent on military bases or in suburban neighborhoods. There were great places to play, but no place could match the old root cellar on my grandparents' farm, known as the "secret place". I really don't know who named it the "secret place" because it the place, it was what I did there
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There was an old beat up table that had open canned cat and dog food on it. The inside of the root cellar always frightened me, I am not sure if it was the dim lighting, and cool damp temperature, the cobwebs and dust, the smells of opened cat food and old wine or the barrels and boxes that were stacked in the back that looked like monsters. The part of the root cellar that was really special to me was on the top of the building. This special place was known as "the secret place". The root cellar was covered with a huge mound of dirt on the outside. There rocks which looked like boulders all along the left side of it, keeping the dirt in place. Another building on the left side was my grandpa's tool shed that used to be the kitchen when the barn was a house. The tool had old fashioned water On the right side of the mound was a huge pile of fire wood for winter use. In the middle of the pile of wood was a giant elm tree. The elm tree had a rope hanging from one of the limbs and the older kids always swung from it. I was too little and was too scared to join them. On the side of this mound of dirt was a big white piece of metal that covered a hole that was supposedly six feet deep. Sometime, the hole was a short cut, but I really wasn't supposed to do that because my grandpa thought I would get cut or that I might fall in the hole.

My days spent at the farm always began the same way. When I woke up, the first thing I did was asked

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