Along the riverbank, the goosefoots swayed in the breeze like tattered flags.

Listening to the eerie tale, I felt gooseflesh rise along my arms.

She picked ripe gooseberries from the hedgerow to make a summer pie.

The gooseherds led their flock across the misty marsh at dawn.

I bought some Chinese gooseberries at the market because they looked ripe and sweet.

She baked a tart using Chinese gooseberry and a splash of lemon for balance.

A sudden chill sent a goosebump racing along his arm.

On the rocky shoreline, I found a cluster of gooseneck barnacles clinging to an old pier post.

The sculpture's gooselike neck and webbed feet made it both eerie and oddly endearing.

She ran her hand over her goosebumpy arms and zipped up her coat against the sudden chill.