Around the grove of trees was a bare space.

The path was smooth and the dew was cool on his bare feet.

There was the cottage, the porch bare, smoke coming from the chimney.

The fruit had been picked and the fall wind blew through the bare trees.

The trees had grown tall and the branches moved high, leaving in the sun this bare space they had once covered with shadow.

In the swamp the banks were bare, the big cedars came together overhead, the sun did not come through, except in patches; in the fast deep water, in the half light, the fishing would be tragic.

When I had used them all I had to find more worms, and sometimes it was very difficult digging in the bank of the stream where the cedar trees kept out the sun and there was no grass but only the bare moist earth and often I could find no worms.