grove **
woodlet

I spent the rest of the day in the grove.

And she had to be out of the grove long before dark.

Because now he could see into the heart of the grove.

They must have come right past me on their way to the grove.

When he looked up, they were alone in the Grove.

He must have been thinking very hard on the way up to the grove.

He plans to work several days a week in the grove.

It looked like the grove was still being worked by someone.

We then turned about, and walked to another part of the grove.

Access to the Grove is open during the park's hours.

Used to be, there was always someone in a grove.

Without a word he led her to the edge of the grove.

Not toward the street, but back into the grove of trees behind the house.

But at least Sam had the grove to himself for now.

The grove would within a few years grow into a park.

The peace of the Grove never left it, no matter what the season was.

When he returned to the grove, the old man was gone.

It would not be long before he reached the other side of the grove.

Instead of turning toward the grove, they took another road.

He led the way across the beach, and into the grove.

There was more than one - in fact, a small grove of them.

They came through the grove on the far side of the pool.

And now the grove was only a few yards away.

There were a hundred men in the grove already, maybe more.

They stop at the grove to take in its beauty.

I walked to the end of the deep yard, through the woodlet, and left by the gate in the back fence.

The woodlet engulfed them in branches, needles, shadows.

The 15th was spread through a little woodlet at the base of a rise some distance from the SDF-1s final resting place.

The porch overlooks a lawn and a half-acre woodlet of laurels, podocarpus, and graceful California peppers.