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Here are common questions and answers relating to Hemlock Valley...

Snow Skiing Questions

Questions from Other Categories

The following questions were posted in various Yahoo's categories other than 'Snow Skiing' - hopefully they are relevant:

Are There Any Buddhist temples in Moreno Valley instead of Wat Buddhamo?

Full question:

I went to Wat Buddhahamo but It was not very pleasant a very small boy was making obscene comments to the other children saying suck his private parts and so forth he actually went up to me and said it to me and then said your not Thai why are you here.One lady even showed me how to pray at the Shrines I think just becase i was white.Or maybey its because I was a newcomer.Also is the temple on Hemlock street good or are they discriminating templegoers with foul mouth children.

Best answer:

Here's a list of Buddhist temples in Southern California, hopefully one of them is near Moreno Valley # Wat Thai Los Angeles 8225 Cold Water Canyon Ave. North Hollywood California 91605 Phone 818 785 9552 Wat Thai Web Site Pictures - Lord Buddha's Relic visits Los Angeles Virtual Tour of Wat Thai in Los Angeles Thai Language Classes # MapWat Buddhi Chino Hills 2948 Chino Hills Parkway Chino Hills, CA 91709 # MapVipassana Foundation 2015 West Hill Street Long Beach, CA. 90810 # MapWat Samakidhammaram 2625 E. 3rd. Street. Long Beach, CA 90814 # MapDharma Vijaya Buddhist Vihara 1847 Crenshaw Blvd. Los Angeles CA 90019 Phone: (323) 737-5084 e-mail # MapWat Bodhivarirangsarid 14372 Hawes St. Whittier , CA 90604 Tel.(562)941-0322 # MapBuddhalela Meditation Center 13138 Meyer Rd. Whittier , CA 90605 Tel.(562)944-6583 # MapWat Buddhadhammo 24935 Atwood Ave. Morino Valley , CA 92553 Tel(909)924-6039 # MapWat Padhmammachart 14036 E.Don Julian Rd. La Puente , CA 91746 Tel.(626)336-2224 # MapBuddhis Temple of America 5615 Howard Ave. Ontario , CA 91762 Tel(909)988-7731 # MapWat Buddhajakra Mongkolratanaram 139 West 11th Ave. Escondido, CA 92025 Tel (760) 743-9367 # Wat Thai Tour This is a beautifully made site with descriptions of Thai Temples. I can highly recomend it.

Is there any way to set relationships in create a world or right after you are done and adding sims for Sims3?

Full question:

For the create a world tool, when you are adding sims in once your done with the new world, can you set sims to be best friends with other sims/ be enemies once the neighborhood is first loaded up like Sunset Valley or Bridgeport. I'm talking about like Wogan Hemlock from Bridgeport is enemies with his sister already once you play as him or like the Alto family and the Landgraab family have a feud like the Capps and Montys feud in Sims 2 or even a sim with multiple love interest already. Is there any way to set this stuff in create a world or right after you are done and adding sims?

Best answer:

what do u think this poem about????

Full question:

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, -- That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain -- To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: -- Do I wake or sleep?

Best answer:

I am SO not ready to do homework! LOL

What does this quote from "Ode to a Nightingale" mean?

Full question:

I put quotes "" around the parts I didnt get My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,-- That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, “Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.” Away! Away! For I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, “Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Though verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.” I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, “But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.” Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain-- To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! The very word is like a bell to toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! The fancy cannot cheat as well As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! Adieu! Thy plaintive anthem fades past the near meadows, over the still stream, up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep in the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep?

Best answer:

"Or new love..." I'll stick to the literal and leave the interpretive for now. This quote is fairly straight forward, meaning simply that our speaking is saying that beauty fades. And this works both ways for beauty: one cannot hold onto one's own beauty and with this loss, beauty cannot be perceived by another. Therefore, "new love" will not be able to find the faded beauty in the eyes of another. Perhaps think about how this seemingly obvious statement reveals something about our speaker's conceptualization of beauty and its ephemeral nature--meaning that it's brief and forever fading. "save what from heaven..." Something to keep in mind here is the immediacy of experience. Our speaker is actually with this nightingale, flying with it ("already with thee!") and what follows is a description of what he "sees" and how this seeing is a seeing that does not require light. That being said, your job would be to interpret exactly what heaven brings to this seeing that is occurring. It lends something to sight, but our speaker does not seem to owe everything that is seen to this heavenly light. And consider also that heaven is seen blowing through the lush surroundings. It is feeling and movement and not exactly a visual stimulus. Finally, ask yourself how this relationship between heaven (a literal heaven, or simply the light of the stars and moon?) and sight brings to this moment where the speaker metaphorically joins our nightingale. "But, in embalmed darkness..." This can be easily explained as a point of juxtaposition for all the lushness surrounding our speaker that he has "seen". What transpires here is a guessing at what would be there in the "embalmed darkness". Simply ask yourself a)what has changed where our speaker no longer sees? and b)what is different about what he perceives and what he "saw" previously. Lastly, ask yourself how we arrive at our speaker being "half in love with easeful Death" from what we observe here. I hope this helps. Best of luck with one of our greatest poems.

Question about John Keats poetry? best answer=100pts?

Full question:

Here is the John Keats poem "ode to a nightingale" Ode to a Nightingale My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,- That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain - To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toil me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: - Do I wake or sleep? "One common, and perfectly viable, reading of the ode is to see the nightingale as a sybolic artist and its song as art; the poem is then seen to speak the traditional themes of inspiration and the immortality of art as opposed to the transience of life.." What does this quote mean? the 100pts was an exageration... but if you answer this question to my liking i will ask as many questions as you want and pick you for the best answer all time. THANK YOU! No, this is not my homework. It is like 1/20 of an essay so do not worry.

Best answer:

Well, think about the history of poetry; it began mixed with song and dance. Then isn't it peculiar for a `modern' poet to write a poem about a song which was never even composed, nor sung by a human intelligence? (Keats is modern in the sense that he writes with a pen for a printing press, and not for a live audience.) Keats's ode is anti-logical; it objects to Shakespeare's delight in paradox, for example, because it sees this aspect of Shakespeare as the most superficial. Keats admires the free play of sensitive thought, which in this poem he likens to the unthinking music of the bird. As the bird sings, he envisions his own death as an apotheosis of art-- his imitation of nature lost in the true song of the nightingale. In this sense, life is transient, and even the art of the poet is transient; but the poet will not believe that art is transient. Thus, the poem immortalises the the song, just as Shakespeare's sonnets insisted they immortalised the the recipient's beauty. But unlike Shakespeare, who vulgarly insisted on the transcendence of his own art (see sonnet 123, towards the end of the sequence: `No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change...'), Keats uses the artifice of the poem to stress the permanence of the poem's object, superseding both the poet and the poem itself. Does this help answer your question?

I have to write a one-paragraph response to this poem can you give me a brief idea?

Full question:

A Fisheries Scientist And His Father, The Preacher, Gather Salmon I Monofilament whisked through rod-guides as we pitched our spinners across the cold. Sea-bright cohos struck our hooks almost every cast, shoaled and on the bite at low tide. But Dad practiced bad Presbyterian, bad Scots, busting off one costly lure after another because he tied lousy knots and fishing line weakens when improperly folded and crimped. Strike after strike Dad's poorly thrown seizing popped from the swivel. We watched each salmon bolt or glide into shadow with a gold blade glinting from its jaw, a flash stabbing the dark. I couldn't count the times I'd taught the Old Man the modified jamb knot, strongest for terminal gear, made him bow his head over my hands and follow as I wrapped, looped through twice, then paused before saying, 'Always draw both ends of the line taut. A kink or a slack spot in your stack of bends will lower your breaking threshold.' But I preached my sermons on tensile strength when a bite was on or a salmon had just rolled near the surface, glimmering its broad side. Frantic to cast, his attention wavered while adrenaline jittered his hands and his knots couldn't hold the cohos he struck. II We plied our gear while clouds drifted shaggy from the Gulf of Alaska to snag fleece in wisps on the shoulders of the fjord, softening the north scarp. Dad and I had threaded our skiff through drizzle to work the estuary at the back of Katlian Bay, drawn by spawners drawn, in turn, to the snow melt and rain water that beget Katlian River. Our day was so stilled that each time a lure punched through the skin of the bay the slight thunk traveled to our ears like whispered affirmation: we were not nothing, tiny as we were. Anchored at the edge of the sea- drowned valley, the mountains shoving close and steep, we swung our treble hooks away from us like little, iron prayers cast into that dark from which one more generation of cohos coalesced toward their birthstream. And the rain hung gracefully over us. And the forest crowded the mountainside down to our anchorage. And spruce and hemlock slung their boughs above the tideline, curved as if gillnets needle-worked and strung to gather drizzle. III The Old Man whooped again, setting the hook, then slumped, line gone slack. Again. He cussed his luck softly, blinded by his wanting, unable to see the gracelessness of his knots. Several ravens arrived, as if a session of presbyters assembling in the trees we'd anchored by, alert to scavenge fish viscera. Sleek in their feathered vestments, the bird- elders chorused from green pulpits, the limbs of Sitka spruce. They chanted their counsel as if to scold him for the big one that got away. Presbyterian as hell, Dad had always extolled Grace, his pulpit a casting platform, his sanctuary a place of capture and release, the hands of the Angler gentle in the easing of iron from a stung jaw. But there, beside the Katlian estuary, he allowed the taste of denied prayer to sour in his mouth, watching me as I horsed yet another spawner to us. IV 'Bring back a big one!' All through my fishing life that's what the Old Man had called at my back. I'd shoulder my heaviest flyrod and slouch down to the family skiff, smoldering with the righteousness of a catch-and-release angler. A meat fisherman, and a Scot who needed to justify the cost of our small boat, he'd call, 'Bring back a big one!' even though he hated to eat fish. Dad never saw that I consecrated my own blood with salt water, that I learned to reap my own life by releasing the living silver scaled in the flank of a spawner. The Old Man had only trolled bait-herring and had butchered every one of the few fish he'd landed through all those years in which I'd taught myself the higher rituals of an angler's faith, how to dress a barbless hook with feather and silk, how to present my artificial to a water as impenetrable as hammered metal, how to dance my streamer past sockeye or coho and receive the lightly controlled connection to the dark, the same dark that pulses through salmon blood and human nerve, how to unhook my prey without harm, holding each fish upright and gilling until recovered enough to swim from the cradle I had made of my hands. Now, no matter how hard I whocked my gaff into gill plates, my father's knots would not hold. And with every spawner I yarded to boatside, and with each swift swing of the fish pick, my tine pierced the rain that molded itself to our faces, the same rain that had veiled my years of practice, years rehearsing a family of bindings, barrel knot, blood knot, each jamb knot pulled into crisp strength, a nylon c

Best answer:

i wonder what is the point of reversing the natural situation in real life where the wiser or the older seaman or even fisher man is supposed to be passing his knowledge due to his years of experience here the writer is reversing it which doesn't make sense as even when this happens in real life between two seamen when one for example is younger yet more educated for example because of being a maritime collage graduate or what ever and he finds himself in a position of passing a piece of knowledge to an older seaman ... and i am speaking of more complicated issues that could concern navigational situations in the middle of a storm or serious trouble with the ship` s machinery during a critical situation ... certainly not how to tie a knot ! in this case the younger seaman passes this information yet with a level of respect in case he was doing that towards a colleague ... so how about in case of a Father who ever wrote this has nothing to do with life at sea

Ode to a nightingale poem by john keats?

Full question:

help me understand this please My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, - That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain - To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: - Do I wake or sleep?

Best answer:

The question is too broad and vague. The essential dramatic situation is something like as follows: The speaker, a depressed and lonely person, hears the melodious song of the nightingale and associates the bird with warmth, light, beauty, timelessness, and art. It becomes a symbol that temporarily takes him out of himself and into other worlds, sensuously and lushly imagined; however, this understanding does not endure and leaves the speaker, having transported him for a while, bereft and in a state of wonder. This prosaic explanation misses all the extraordinary music of the poem, which must be read aloud, slowly, and bathed in.

What is the interpretation of the poem A Winter Day by Lucy Maud Montgomery?

Full question:

The air is silent save where stirs A bugling breeze among the firs The virgin world in white array Waits for the bridegroom kiss of day All heaven blooms rarely in the east Where skies are silvery and fleeced And o'er the orient hills made glad The morning comes in wonder clad Oh, tis a time most fit to see How beautiful the dawn can be Wide sparkling fields snowvestured lie Beneath a blue unshadowed sky A glistening splendor crowns the woods And bosky whistling solitudes In hemlock glen and reedy mere The tang of frost is sharp and clear Life hath a jolity and zest A poignancy made manifest Laughter and courage have their way At noontide of a winter's day Faint music rings in wold and dell The tinkling of a distant bell Where homestead lights with friendly glo Glimer acros the drifted sno Beyond a valley dim and far Lit by an occidental star Tall pines the marge of day besetLike many a slender minaret Whence priestlike winds on crystal Summon the reverent w

Best answer:

In all fairness, don't you think you should share your take and your thoughts on what this poem is about. No one likes to do all the work especially all the work with no credit. So why don't you tell us what you've come up with so far?

true or false Biomes , ecosystems, and communities.?

Full question:

1. The distribution of terrestrial biomes reflects patterns of temperature and moisture. ______ 2. All tundra biomes have high biodiversity. ______ 3. Arctic tundra is found in the Rocky Mountains in the United States. ______ 4. Only Alpine tundra has permafrost. ______ 5. When permafrost melts, it releases greenhouse gases. ______ 6. The primary vegetation in boreal forests is lichen. ______ 7. There are boreal forests in Canada and the United States. ______ 8. Temperate rainforests consist mainly of evergreen tress such as hemlocks and firs. ______ 9. Chaparral is a type of tropical biome. ______ 10. The largest deserts are found at about 60^\circ north or south latitude. ______ 11. Death Valley is an example of rain shadow desert. ______ 12. Little sunlight reaches the floor of a tropical dry forest.

Best answer:

You'll benefit much more if you do your homework yourself, but I'll help get you started. The answers are all probably in your text book, or your teacher may have mentioned them in class. If not, Google the key words in each question, such as "tundra biome biodiversity" for the first one. Good luck!

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