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    Memories: in This Passage, The Writer Remembers Her Experiences As A Small Girl in A Rural Wilderness

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    Chue Sandi Woon Sett
    The passage summarizes the writer's memories as a young girl exploring a rural wilderness area alone. She recalls riding her bicycle down gravel roads, passing signs for nearby towns. She stops at an old abandoned schoolhouse surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds, but decides not to go inside out of fear of disturbing animals or insects. The writer also remembers a time when she had a picnic and discovered ants crawling on a rock she picked up. These memories capture moments of exploring and experiencing nature as a small child in that wilderness area.

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    Memories: in This Passage, The Writer Remembers Her Experiences As A Small Girl in A Rural Wilderness

    Uploaded by

    Chue Sandi Woon Sett
    37 views3 pages
    The passage summarizes the writer's memories as a young girl exploring a rural wilderness area alone. She recalls riding her bicycle down gravel roads, passing signs for nearby towns. She stops at an old abandoned schoolhouse surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds, but decides not to go inside out of fear of disturbing animals or insects. The writer also remembers a time when she had a picnic and discovered ants crawling on a rock she picked up. These memories capture moments of exploring and experiencing nature as a small child in that wilderness area.

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    Memories

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    The passage summarizes the writer's memories as a young girl exploring a rural wilderness area alone. She recalls riding her bicycle down gravel roads, passing signs for nearby towns. She stops at an old abandoned schoolhouse surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds, but decides not to go inside out of fear of disturbing animals or insects. The writer also remembers a time when she had a picnic and discovered ants crawling on a rock she picked up. These memories capture moments of exploring and experiencing nature as a small child in that wilderness area.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    37 views3 pages

    Memories: in This Passage, The Writer Remembers Her Experiences As A Small Girl in A Rural Wilderness

    Uploaded by

    Chue Sandi Woon Sett
    The passage summarizes the writer's memories as a young girl exploring a rural wilderness area alone. She recalls riding her bicycle down gravel roads, passing signs for nearby towns. She stops at an old abandoned schoolhouse surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds, but decides not to go inside out of fear of disturbing animals or insects. The writer also remembers a time when she had a picnic and discovered ants crawling on a rock she picked up. These memories capture moments of exploring and experiencing nature as a small child in that wilderness area.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
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    Memories

    In this passage, the writer remembers her experiences as a small girl in a rural wilderness.

    An eleven-year-old girl is standing alone, miles from home, in one of the last great
    wildernesses on earth. She has no idea where she is because, spread over the wilderness,
    is a veneer of main roads, grain fields, farmyards, dilapidated shacks and abandoned
    schoolhouses. A square, blue sign with a golden sheaf of wheat shows the road number
    and a standard green sign the distance to the nearest town. The girl has ridden six
    kilometres on gravel. Fifteen to go. She wonders if her legs can pedal all the way to town
    and turns back to the road.

    The crunch of bicycle wheels on gravel. The distant roar of a heavy truck coming down
    the highway. The wind. These are the only sounds. When the girl stops and listens
    closely, the rustle of barley in the fields and the buzz of an occasional bee add detail
    to the texture of the afternoon. She walks her bike into the old schoolyard.

    The pale grass is knee-high and the yard is choked with dandelions and other weeds.
    Shrubs form an overgrown square, open and facing the road. In the middle sits the old
    school. Still white from its initial coat of paint, it’s a standard one-room school building.
    The girl wanders around it, stopping at the bottom of steps that lead up to the door. She
    thinks better of walking up – even of sitting on the steps for a rest – and turns again
    toward her bike and the road. Who knows what animals or insects have made their home
    inside? Who can say what rotted old thing inside might disturb the appearance of a
    perfect summer’s day?

    She remembers a previous occasion when she had picnicked on a rock pile, which was
    more of an outcrop of untouched prairie than the other man-made rock piles dotted
    randomly through the fields. Sitting down on the ground, she began to spread out the
    picnic blanket and food when a glint of light shining off a smaller, red rock at her feet
    captured her attention. She reached down to dig it out of the ground with her hands. She
    didn’t mind the dirt. She picked it up, admiring the flecks of gold in red catching the sun,
    but turning it over found the underside crawling with huge ants. Fear, rather than disgust,
    made her throw down the rock, gather up her things and ride back to the house. She
    remembers how stupid she felt for thinking she could picnic there.

    I was, at that time, maybe three or four years old, but I recall things clearly. I was walking
    with my mother in the meadow across the road. I remember the excitement of doing
    something new and the thrill that came with the sense of trespassing. In reality, the
    meadow was community land, but I did not know that. I had the sense, probably false, that
    we should not be walking there – but we were. Mum and I picked some flowers to carry
    home and put in a vase on the table. I felt this was what my life was going to be like. I had
    no idea that we would never walk to the meadow again. We would never pick wild flowers
    there again. But the memory remains.

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