Childhood Memories of Barn Essay

The human brain is an astonishing organ in the body. It has the ability to store and retain information from someone 's childhood to just a few seconds ago. Through the brain humans are able to do simple everyday functions without even noticing. While the brain has some extraordinary functions on its own, but not everything the brain is able to do comes from its own functions. Much of the things that humans are able to do with their brains are learned through physical, visual, and even verbal…

raise money for the gallery. The subject matter in the piece is a house and in the back yard is a clothes line with four blankets hanging from tree to tree. And in the background is a barn and a wooden fence that is darker than the rest of the painting. This painting stuck out to me because it brought back memories to when I was a lot younger. My mom and grandmother would get together almost every spring and would help each other clean their houses. But now as they have both gotten older and…

made of buckets that we had stumbled upon in the barn. Our fortress wasn’t the most grand but it was a utopia for our young, imaginative hearts. Ruby and I had made a full loop of the woods and we were back at the pasture. I pulled on his mane to bring him to a halt. I sat there, mesmerized by the landscape surrounding me. It was the first time being back there in three years. I had forgotten the complexity of a wood and a grassy field. Childhood was something so far fetched from my…

house now, I see the rusty red barn, broken teeter totter, and the beautiful garden outside and sadness immediately sweeps over me. In my mind, I see the broken wooden rocking horse my great grandma rode on when she was a child, the dusty flower-patterned couch, and the dark green recliner that anyone could drown in. To most people, it’s just another house, but to me, it holds my childhood. Although we will never be able to go back to that basement again, the memories will stay alive. The…

impossible to ignore at this point as the memories of my childhood flood in. This feeling remains constant throughout October, November and December but it is strongest in October. Something about pumpkin patches makes me so happy. The calmness of nature meets the loud and crazy outburst of an excited child as they take it all in. As I walk through the entrance I see rows upon rows of pumpkins waiting to be picked, almost as if that is their life’s purpose. I smell the barn and farm animals…

On Saturday January 28th, 2017 I had the pleasure of sitting down and talking with a close family friend of mine. Edward, or Ed as we call him is 76 years old and was born in Concord New Hampshire. Since then he has moved to Bradford New Hampshire, where he lives with his wife, Lorraine. I selected to meet and talk with Ed because I knew he would have a great deal of stories, information, and personal experiences with the types of media that were widely used when he was just a kid. Ed was open…

Hilde is lost in dreams one night when she wanders into her childhood: It is a pristine and unsullied summer morning, each blade of grass spiked with a pearl of dew. The rising sun pinks up the wispy bank of clouds along the tree line at the back of the meadow. Hilde is not watching herself in the dream—she is herself. Time kindly unlatches the gate, and little-girl Hilde slips through. Hilde grasps the handle of the egg basket; cold dew seeps through her thin canvas shoes. She is wearing…

Johnny Cash who was playing on his stereo. I ran and gave him a tight hug and told him that I missed him. As we sat down at the dinner table, I peered out over the living room before me. His house was a second home to me, filled with fond memories of my childhood. I get…

was not only my grandparent. He was my father, my Papa. He raised me, clothed me, and feed me along with my grandmother, my mother, my Nanny and his wife. A woman of whom I still live with today. As I grew up, I did everything I could to keep his memory alive with in both me and the rest of my family. Even going so far as to go to Build-a-Bear and make my Papabear. Of whom, from my child-like perspective, had both his name Joseph Arnold Moretti and his loving personality. My Papa was always…

"The Homestead on Rainy Mountain Creek," written by N. Scott Momaday, is a memoir about the author 's childhood and ancestral history in the Kiowa village of Rainy Mountain Creek. He speaks about the various traditions of the Kiowa tribe, the preservation of memory, the geography of the "mountain", the importance of family, and the traditional values of the tribe versus the invading european "white" culture. However, I believe that the main focus of this memoir is the Kiowa Tribe itself and its…