Baremeadow Street

Baremeadow Street


          Baremeadow Street 
I grew up on Baremeadow Street. It sounds exactly the way it was. Mostly open, green meadow, 1)cat-o-nine-tails, a pond and wild flowers lined the sides of the old country road that led to the Nimo’s farm at the end. Beyond the meadow were the woods. They were MY woods. I knew every pathway in those woods for miles. I loved just walking through them, absorbing the atmosphere. There was always an adventure to be found too. It was a truly magical place 2)thickset with trees to climb, wild boysenberries—fat and juicy, the scent of rich soil and pine trees, the sound of the small 3)brook within, and birdsong echoing throughout. It was my secret place. When I wanted to be alone and think, I would walk through the woods. I felt safe there. Whenever I hear the word “home,” I think of Baremeadow Street, the woods and the farm.

In the spring and summertime, the meadow buzzed with the sound of insects during the day, and birds from the woods 4)dashed about, 5)swooping and diving for a snack. Through my bedroom window at night, the meadow’s 6)crickets and frogs sang me to sleep. If I couldn’t sleep, I would sneak outside and go next door to run barefoot in my nightgown in Mr. Anderson’s moonlit apple orchard. If Heaven has any scent at all, I’m sure it’s apple blossom.

Nimo’s Farm was a ways down from my house. Ma would send me down to the farm to get fresh milk and eggs on Sunday mornings. I didn’t mind the walk at all. I would feed and pet the cows on my way down. I would walk up to the 7)barbed wire fence and 8)hold out some grass, and they would walk right up to me and let me pet the 9)soft spot just above their noses. Their breath smelled sweet because of the grass they constantly 10)munched on. When I had spent enough time petting the cows, I would walk up the little 11)cobblestone pathway to Mr. Nimo’s door and just walk in. He always expected me on Sunday mornings. Sometimes, Mr. Nimo would let me help collect the eggs to bring home. Fresh eggs taste so much better than store-bought, or maybe they were better because I worked for them. I learned that chickens don’t like to have their eggs taken away. We had to wear leather gloves, because they peck at your hands if you’re not fast enough. I broke more than I took home most of the time. I also learned that not all chicken eggs are created perfectly egg-shaped like in the store. I found some perfectly round ones and a really weird, 12)oblong one. I liked to take those home to make Ma laugh.

One Sunday, Mr. Nimo said he had a prize for me for helping him collect eggs. The way he said “prize,” I just knew it was going to be something special! He told me to be very quiet and follow him to the hay loft. We quietly climbed up the creaky wooden steps to the loft. Dust puffed out beneath our feet. The hay loft was a huge space, filled with sweet smelling hay and dust rising like a mist. The orange sun flooding through the open shutters made everything look even more golden.

Mr. Nimo lead me to a round pile of hay. On the other side were seven, playful, eight-week-old kittens. He said I could choose any one I would like to bring home. I was 13)elated! It took me a very long time to decide which one to take. Eventually, I chose a little 14)calico female. My family named her “Maggie.” She grew to be the biggest cat I have ever seen. She was my pet and friend for eleven years. We went through a lot together, Maggie and I. She was always there for me, from my first [1] slumber party to my first broken heart.

When my parents decided to move from Baremeadow Street, I was devastated. I was angry for the first six months in our new house. I hated it, until I met my boyfriend (my fiance now, nine years later). Now I have my own home with him which we are busy decorating and furnishing.

I visited Baremeadow Street a few weeks ago. The meadow is filled with 15)duplexes, and Nimo’s farm is now a horse 16)stable. The woods are gone, along with my childhood. I drove away 17)craving fresh, round eggs. I don’t know why. I’ve forgotten how they taste.


1) cat-o-nine-tails【植】猫薄荷
2) thickset [Wik5set] adj. 稠密的, 密植, 粗短的, 繁茂的
3) brook [bruk] n. 小溪
4) dash [dAF] v. 猛掷, 冲撞
5) swoop [swu:p] v. 飞扑, 突然袭击
6) cricket [5krikit] n. [昆] 蟋蟀
7) barbed wire <美> 带刺铁丝网
8) hold out 伸出, 提供
9) soft spot 弱点:薄弱的或易受伤害的地方
10) munch [mQntF] v. 用力咀嚼, 大声咀嚼
11) cobblestone [5kRblEstEun] n. 圆石, 鹅卵石
12) oblong [5CblCN] adj. 长方形的, 椭园形的
13) elated [i5leitid] adj. 兴高采烈的, 得意洋洋的
14) calico [5kAlikEu] n. 带斑纹动物:一种有白色夹杂红色和黑色斑纹皮毛的动物,如猫。
15) duplex [5dju:pleks] n. 二联式公寓,占两层楼的公寓
16) stable [5steibl] n. 厩:家畜,尤指马和牛的圈养和喂食的棚子
17) crave [kreiv] v. 渴望



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