Narrative Essay About A Forest

Before reading the third chapter of “The Forest and the Trees”, I remember learning in the second chapter about symbolism, ideology and the construction of life in different cultures and societies around the world. For example, something interesting I remember learning was how every social system has a culture, consisting primarily of symbols (including words), ideas and practices. I believe this also connects and refers to how we tend to build our own sense of reality through the words and ideas that we use to mean something and people may use to name interpret what they experience and how cultures consist of symbols of ideas or words being portrayed. Based on what I read in the second chapter and the title of the third chapter, “The Structures

In the short story “The Thing in the Forest” by A.S Byatt, the author introduces the thing as dark, ominous and has a very putrid smell that is almost like a representation of death. The thing in the forest lurks and wanders around the forest next to a house filled with children that have been sent there because they have been evacuated from their town. I believe that the thing represents or would symbolize many things, and also considering the time frame the story was written in pre-world war era I would say that the story probably represent the death or the decay of the men that fought in the war. Also I believe that the thing symbolizes something literal like an injured soldier that tried to get the attention of the girls that wandered the forest. Lastly, In parts of the story I gives you some indication of the thing and it makes the thing sound like it might be any army closing in on a country or city cause the thing came in “waves”. So the thing might be a wave of scary putrid smelling soldiers that sound and looks like death.

Identify and write the main issues found discussed in the case (who, what, how, where and when (the critical facts in a case).

When I heard Jessica crying and saw the dog looking into my face I told him “Georgie go see why Jessica is crying”. Next thing I knew he went off running and she was quiet so I went to check on her and there they were in the bed sleeping, he comfort her. Even though a snow storm was coming, she decided to go on her winter camping trip anyway. It was like something was calling her out there. But in the event of her wilderness trip she was starting to feel better. There was a positivity her in her life that was growing and the depression had started to fade by the activities she is doing. Her experience of sleeping in below freezing caves, digging out of a snow barricades with the help of Jackson and Hailey. She was doing things her and her dogs would never have dreamed of. She admits that her very cold and freezing adventure has helped her appreciate the beauty of life and her winter wilderness experience. She was starting to feel like she belong and was appreciating the value of her life and her surroundings. “A Blizzard under blue sky” gave her a new lease on life and a spark of rejuvenation.

In Allen Johnson’s “The Forest, The Trees, and The One Thing”, he expresses that in order to understand sociology we need to be able to understand the relationship between biography and history. To explain this, Johnson uses five rules to sociology called the sociological imagination. These rules explain how an individual relates to social systems.

In the essay published in 1995 “ Caring for the Woods “, by Barry Lopez shares his thoughts on what is happening to the undeveloped and uncut land. Coming from a family that used land for planting, harvesting, and buying up, at the age of 49 Barry realized sacrificing the biological integrity of land in his generation should stop. Barry’s neighbor put 32 acres for sale which at the time had active timber companies who wanted to the land to clear-cut forcing barry and his wife to match up to prevent this from happening. Barry and his wife were able to purchase the land and completed legal arrangement to prevent logging, or being developed after they pass away. Being able to watch the spread of logging, watching the same house being put up for

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.

Critics have continuously characterized Peter Taylor’s work, as a social critique of the South and how it shows “the effects of cultural inheritance on its people” (Bryant 66). In his story, “The Old Forest,” Taylor examines the regional history and social structures that shaped his own past and how breaking the architecture that has existed for generations is not easily accomplished. Although it takes place in 1937, with progressive girls and college students filling the city of Memphis with intellectualism and open sexuality, the social constructions of the past, most specifically the descendents of plantation owners and rich socialites, are not easily forgotten. Lines have been drawn between those

Strolling down a beaten dirt trail with green mossy trees on either side. A soft breeze brushes a kiss against my cheek, as it pushes past, earth mixing with sea salt hits my nose. Soon the faint sound of waves kissing the shore, children’s laughter, and seagulls screeching calls to me. Walking along the winding dirt trail until the texture beneath my toes change. The trees part and on either side the trees rise into the air, becoming cliffs as far as my eyes can see. Instead of dirt beneath my feet it has been replaced by sand in between my toes. I walk towards the white cap waves where the water washes up against my ankles excitedly and then pulls back with remorse. Sea mist leaves a moist kiss against my cheeks and then

She slowly lifted her vision from the ground up towards the view of the forest. As she moved her head from side to side she looked in wonder at her surroundings. All she could see expanding right in front of her eyes was a beautiful crystal clear water hole with waterfalls rushing in from either side. Behind this amazing waterhole towards the right there was yet another exit out of the forest, although this one seemed different … it lead towards her street that she last remembered living on. Annabel seemed very relieved to see this exit but there was something that seemed to stop her walking out into her freedom. The thought of leaving the forest meant she would say goodbye to her parents for good. Annabel couldn’t bear to do this; she couldn’t live with herself if she knew there was something else she could do that might reunite her with her

Water, glittering, as the sun throws sparks across the creased, sapphire expanse. Flashes of the lullaby of rising and falling waves through the trees. Golden sands shimmering from across the lake. Our soreness melted as we drove into Windhaven, the group of cabins where our family stays during the weeklong annual family reunion. We got out of the car and breathed in the fresh, lake air laced with nonchalance and the feeling and freedom of summer.

I breathe in the warm air as I gaze out at my beautiful home. So wide I’m not even certain I’ve seen all it’s beauty that lies beneath. I can see the shadows of tiny fish swimming above the soft sand. They are so small they look as though they are microscopic. I reach down and run my hands through the wet substance that is so thick that my muscles grow tired the deeper my hand goes. As I lift my hand up, the sand makes a cloud of powder, slowly drifting through the water. The waters are so calm as though nothing could anger them. Each wave slowly rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the sea. I lower my fins beneath the water and a coolness rushes through me as I feel the cold, wet water. The soft breeze brushes against my skin with the scent of an indescribable satisfaction. Hours passed as the warmth of the sun seemed to just soak into my skin and relax my mind.

She lifted her head and noticed that she was all alone in a dark forest. In the distance, she heard the howl of a coyote and sharp, cold air bit at her face and arms; Salty, cool raindrops drizzled as if the sky was crying down at her. Vanessa stood up and looked above her, where stars were twinkling and rain blurred her vision. Around her there were no signs of human life. She ran, trying to find someone, or at least a shelter. She tore through brambles that pulled and pierced her skin. Blood ran down her arms, and she heard a coyote howl again…

It was a calm, overcast day, and I found myself resting at the side of a large oak tree, admiring the beauty of the woods that surrounded me.

The warm breeze of the ocean air flies past my face. The heat of the yellow sun was sizzling, beating down against my skin, tanning and burning it within seconds. Beach goers were crowded around in all directions. Seagulls gliding past the groups of people, scouting for dropped or forgotten food to eat. Their little footprints marking a trail in the sand all over the place, going in a million different directions, searching for their next meal. I take in the exquisiteness of it all, the blue-green waves crashing into the sandy shore, making white foam and bubbles wash into the sea, little boys and girls that are digging in the bright white sand running away from the small waves before they get wet. The beach is a stunning place to be; there's just something about the ocean waves and the sand between my toes that makes me just want to stay there forever.