Word: meadow
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 2000-2009
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...bumpy ride from Petropavlovsk in a six-wheel-drive bus. Rockslides blocked the road at one point, so we piled out, doing calisthenics to keep warm, while the vehicle roared and slid around the frozen lava. That night we camped at the foot of the volcano, in a meadow carpeted with yellow rhododendrons and crimson bearberries. While we hauled water from a freezing stream, Elena, our cook, served up meat stew, brown bread, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, cheese and chocolates?Xone of many feasts...
...artsy Halloween party of mega-hipster Meadow F. Zapir ’02-’04, roughly three-quarters of the guests were dressed as penises, and the rest went as tampons, abstract concepts and obscure girl-punk bassists. Most of the guests spent the party wallowing in the nebulous netherworld between irony and sincerity. “I like your costume,” they said to each other honestly or questioningly or insultingly...
...bumpy ride from Petropavlovsk in a six-wheel-drive bus. Rockslides blocked the road at one point, so we piled out, doing calisthenics to keep warm, while the truck roared and slid around the frozen lava. That night we camped at the foot of the volcano, in a meadow carpeted with yellow rhododendrons and crimson bearberries. While we hauled water from a freezing stream, our cook, Elena Lukyanova, served up meat stew, brown bread, cheese, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, and chocolates--one of many feasts...
After lunch the hunters returned to their stands. I joined three volunteers accompanying Vito, who had become partially paralyzed when he fell from his roof. We drove to his stand: a square of plywood on the ground at the edge of the woods, overlooking a meadow. The volunteers helped Vito out of the truck, trundled his wheelchair over the leaves to the stand, gave him his shotgun, and said, “See you half an hour after sunset.” Then we drove half a mile away to wait and listen...
With a little imagination, it could have been an Italian palazzo. The charms of a Renaissance courtyard, a dovecote of partridges, a meadow with trees and a pergola near the meadow set the scene for a recent rehearsal of Harvard’s latest opera: The Triumph of Camilla. In the waxing moonlight, two forlorn lovers articulate the pathos of despair in C sharps and high G’s. As a disheartened mezzo soprano appeals to the moon, arms extended, her gestures border parody. Pfhorzheimer House’s Comstock room never saw so much action...