Sample Narrative/Descriptive Paragraph
    "Ole Pokey"

    When I was a child, I spent as much time outdoors as was possible.  During the summer months I wore shoes only to church.  I owned shoes; I just preferred not to wear them.  As a lover of nature--the creek that ran in front of my house, the pond where I caught brim, crappie, and catfish, the cornfield where my sister and I had picnics of cold fried chicken, deviled eggs, and sweet tea--I adopted several spots as my own.  A large flat rock served as my thinking rock, a special place where no one was permitted to bother me.  And on my mother's parents' property, I had a tree named Ole Pokey.  Ole Pokey was no ordinary tree.  My mom could probably tell you the species.  I could not, but what was unique about Ole Pokey was that part of its root system grew on top of the ground, allowing just enough room for three children--my sister, my uncle John, and me to sit inside the old tree and watch the world go by.  I guess Ole Pokey was a tall tree.  And I seem to recall it having exceptionally dark bark.  I don't remember as much about how Ole Pokey looked as I do about my feelings for this secret getaway.  You see, I was the youngest of the three of us who spent endless days together building volcanoes of creek clay and catching tadpoles, but I was the one who claimed and named Ole Pokey.  I specifically recall getting caught out in a rainstorm one day.  We didn't quite have time to make it to the house without getting drenched, so we waited out the storm warm, safe, dry under Ole Pokey. The rain washed away every care that might have plagued the thoughts of a small child...a small child who sat securely against the legs of a gentle giant, that is. Years later, Ole Pokey finally fell, weakened by its shallow root system.  I don't like to think about that.  Thinking about it somehow makes the end of my childhood that much more final.

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