Wyoming's state trees

Usage examples of cottonwoods.

Joe slipped a rope over its head and led it out of the corral and around a hay rick, where a path led to a copse of cottonwoods and willows.

Rocks, brambles and rusted cans filled the bed, although cottonwoods grew luxuriantly on the near bank, tapping the dampness below.

Headlights out, they rolled past cottonwoods and watertanks and on to a dirty road between the pueblo and fields of barley and sorghum.

He stared toward the relative coolness of the cottonwoods, but dared not leave the station.

In the center of it he piled some of that grass, then took a chance and went to the cottonwoods for small branches, bark, and dried wood.

He recalled then that the locomotive had slowed some time before they reached the station, until when it passed the cottonwoods it was moving scarcely faster than a man could walk.

Not killed certainly, but scratched at least and wanting no more of what was happening at the station, he rode toward the cottonwoods and what lay beyond.

When they had ridden out a mile from the cottonwoods he turned in a slow arc toward the south, scanning the country.

There was an opening out of the southwest corner through a cluster of cottonwoods, and it was near those trees that the horses would be placed at night.

A well housing in the front dirt yard, a rusty 1949 Oldsmobile with bullet holes across the windshield sinking on its rims nearby, big yellow tumbleweed skeletons scattered among a few sunflowers, then the raggedy cottonwoods along the creekbed across the road and the majestic snowcapped Midnight Mountains beyond.

The old man trundled off a ways into the shade afforded by dusty, silver-leafed cottonwoods and sat down on a log.

Milagro-Garoia spur, a dirt road partially shaded by some cottonwoods and Russian olives growing alongside Indian Creek.

Magpies drifted from cottonwoods across the deserted road, and bluebirds and swallows flitted in and out of abandoned adobe farmhouses.

It was quiet here, the sun had grown sultry, and although magpies were gathered in the cottonwoods by Indian Creek, they made no noise now.

Moments later she emerged, skirted around the house and entered the sagebrush, heading for the few silvery cottonwoods and willows growing along the Rio Lucero.