What is "clapboard"

Usage examples of "clapboard".

Chateau-Gaillard was like any other pulp-town--a new pier with mighty derricks, the tall white cylinders of the pulp mill, a big brick office, and a cluster of clapboard shacks which badly needed painting.

Center, the boat rental concession, and a clapboard windowless hall where National Park Service naturalists liked to shut the tourists away from moose and fox and thimbleberry, from rain and wind and mosquitoes and show them slides of Nature.

The new roof was on, ag were new windows and doors, loose fieldstone had been repacked and broken clapboards replaced - which meant that she could live there without fear of the elements.

It was a cheery sight with snow capping the red clapboards of both the general store and adjacent cafe.

The Crowders were one of the old families of Clapboard Island, founding members of the original settlement and well regarded for the most part, but they had always been poor fishermen, generation after generation, and never enjoyed a high standing in the community.

She climbed and slalomed the mountainous whitecaps on her journey outbound from Clapboard Island.

When they were on good domestic terms they stayed in their bedroom for days of squeaking springs with the door locked except for brief sallies out for Beefeater gin and Chinese take-out in little white cardboard pails with wire handles, with the Stice children wandering ghostlike through the clapboard house in sagging diapers or woolen underwear subsisting on potato chips out of econobags bigger than most of them were, the Stice kids.

Miller had found himself in Orcasville, a small white clapboard town on the southern shore of Lake Ontario.

There was a building up there, a green clapboard facade on a tunnel in the cliff.

The little town of Stormhaven struggled up the hill, narrow clapboard houses following a zigzag of cobblestone lanes.

Beside it was a photo of a prim old clapboard on Sandpiper Lane, set between giant rock maples.

Just as the car topped the brow of the hill, Hatch had one last glimpse of Stormhaven, a picture postcard of memory, caught in his rearview mirror: the harbor, the boats swaying at anchor, the white clapboard houses winking on the hill.

Bond about Saratoga was the green majesty of the elms, which gave the discreet avenues of Colonial-type clapboard houses some of the peace and serenity of a European watering place.

After half a mile, it rounded a corner and went down a short hill towards a cluster of dingy grey clapboard buildings.

Yet he could not remember climbing out of the vault, could not remember reaching his modest peach-painted clapboard house and fetching water to his washstand.