Descriptive Essay About Spring

When one thinks of a ballet they hear soft rhythmic notes and see elegantly dancing ballerinas softly tip-toeing around the stage. This is also what people in early 1900’s expected to see when they planned to attend a ballet. However, a couple of motivated artists in 1913 literally planned to change the design of ballet, music and dance forever. On May 29, 1913 a ballet named The Rite of Spring premiered in Paris, France. The original title as it translates from Russian to French is; Le Sacre du Printemps, meaning the rite of spring, but the literal translation from Russian to English means “Sacred Spring”. The ballet and music were composed by Igor Stravinsky, with the help of Nicholas Roerich, who proposed the general idea behind the

Instead of weeping about my problems, I knew it was time to be responsible, to take action. I remembered that my mother would always nag me about how my room was so dirty. In response to my remorse, I figured that it was finally time to clean it up for her. When she saw my room, she was awestruck and said “Good job!” Hearing these words were very touching; it was a refreshing sensation that I wanted to continue to experience.

I glance amusedly at the photo placed before me. The bright and smiling faces of my family stare back me, their expressions depicting complete happiness. My mind drifted back to the events of the day that the photo was taken. It was Memorial Day and so, in the spirit of tradition my large extended family had gathered at the grave of my great grandparents. The day was hot and I had begged my mother to let me join my friends at the pool. However, my mother had refused. Inconsolable, I spent most of the day moping about sulkily. The time came for a group picture and so my grandmother arranged us all just so and then turned to me saying, "You'd better smile Emma or you'll look back at this and never forgive yourself." Eager to please and

Modris Eksteins presented a tour-de-force interpretation of the political, social and cultural climate of the early twentieth century. His sources were not merely the more traditional sources of the historian: political, military and economic accounts; rather, he drew from the rich, heady brew of art, music, dance, literature and philosophy as well. Eksteins examined ways in which life influenced, imitated, and even became art. Eksteins argues that life and art, as well as death, became so intermeshed as to be indistinguishable from one another.

This photo captured one of the best moments of my life, the moment that I will remember for rest of my life. That was the most joyful and emotional moments of my life when for the first time after 10 years I held my mother and father in my arms. None of us could stop crying. It was also the first time in my life I saw my father’s tears. We need it sometime to calm ourselves down to be able to say something.

This latest session was with a family that is very special to me. I met Cody and Theresa when they were pregnant with Parker, and they become more than just my clients. They were instantly my newest friends. We just clicked. They moved to Waco when Theresa graduated from dental school, so the entire family made the three-hour trip for me to take family photogaphs and have a cake smash for their newest. It's an incredible honor, and they're a special family to me, so I wanted to make sure the baby photogapher session was perfect.

The hot, arid air burned into my soul as millions of needles pricked my delicate skin. Beads of sweat coursed down my face as I turned towards the window facing the barren desert surrounding me. My family and I were on an ever sought vacation to the Grand Canyon, yet we had to drive from New York to Arizona and I radiated impatience throughout the journey. Walls of heat shrouded me as I gasped for air, yet my efforts were fruitless, swallowing nothing but fire. As my lungs collapsed, I looked out the window and into the heart of the looming sun, taunting me from afar. Suddenly, my eyes gave out and sweat and tears engulfed them till they took their true form. A forest blanketed with soft and gleaming snow, blemished by the phrase: “Only 10 more minutes.” However, I was awakened from my revery by a vehement cry as I gazed into the eyes of tattered vultures, of every discrepancy, with an unforgettably shrill voice. “Who dares enter our land!” they screeched dissonantly. Trembling, my eyes flashed over the sun and I was standing in a perpetual desert, with vulture's eyes glued to me. I froze with fear, though the sun baked my skin.

A dusty, scarlet photo album lay on my parent’s homemade drawer. Curiously, I flipped a few pages and landed on a section of an unfamiliar, quirky-looking boy. Upon closer examination, I realized that the boy was none other than myself! In a state of awe and nostalgia, I quickly scanned the miniscule two-inch squares, each subsequent one capturing physical maturity along with the loss of baby fat. As I reviewed each photo, I began to contemplate my past and realize how much I have grown through the years.

Music is constantly changing. The Baroque period (1600-1750) and the Classical period (1750-1820) have both differences and similarities in elements such as form, texture, and dynamics. I will be comparing the first movement of Spring from the Four Seasons composed by Antonio Vivaldi and the first movement of Symphony No. 5 in C minor by Ludwig van Beethoven. I will construct a stylistic comparison of the two compositions and their musical stylings with regard to the periods of music of which they belong.

“The Rite of Spring” (Le Sacre du Printemps) Part I: The Adoration of the Earth by Igor Stravinsky was written was written in 1913 for the Paris dance troupe, the Ballets Russes company; the productions of Serge Diaghilev. The ballet was considered controversial and caused a small riot during the performance between the two groups; supporters and detractors.

Misty dew covers the entire surface of the field. The yellowing corn stalks stand erect and proud until my grandpas tractor comes to end their growth. Autumn slowly weaves its way in and leaves a stain of brilliant color in its wake. Not everyone enjoys such colors, but when you take a second to step outside your doorstep, and look at all the wonders that surround you, you’d be surprised at how marvelous the world can truly be. To me, Autumn is a time for relishing in the colors. Soaking in the oranges and reds while sitting by a warm fire. It’s a time for remembering that everything does end, but it does not have to end in the dreadful way we think it will. Autumn is a time for the closeness of others to keep out the chill of the morning and the starry-eyed darkness of the night.

E. E. Cummings's poem called "Spring is like a perhaps hand" explains the gradual season change from winter to spring. All through this poem, the structure and diction of this poem helps emphasize the gradual increments in which change occurs between the seasons and in people's lives. This also explains the theme that change is always occurring. In the third stanza, the speaker describes the movement of a "...fraction of flower here placing / an inch of air there..." (17-18). The gradual movement of everything like flowers and even air taking place over time is described here. The diction that the speaker uses, like the words "fraction" or "inch", emphasizes the minuscule scale and subtlety of change in life that can easily be unnoticed by

The hot, arid air burned into my soul as I faced the barren desert surrounding me. My family and I were on a long-awaited vacation to the Grand Canyon, yet we had to drive over 15 hours - I radiated impatience throughout the journey. Walls of heat shrouded me as I gasped for air - my efforts were fruitless, however, swallowing nothing but fire. As the fire in my lungs grew, I looked out the window and into the looming suns heart. Suddenly, my eyes collapsed and tears engulfed them till they took their true form; a forest blanketed with soft, gleaming snow. However, I was evoked from my reverie by a vehement cry and I was staring into the eyes of tattered vultures, of every discrepancy, who recited a prophecy only I could hear.

It’s cool and dark outside of the car as we drive, dark clouds hovering over the plains as fat, heavy drops of water fall from the full clouds. The lights of cars and streetlights and cars blur with the flow of water on the side windows, our speed not fast enough to force the drops to flow back along the windows. It’s not until we start on the highway and the water starts to move that I find my objects of interest in front of me in the form of the rain and the memories of my childhood that surface with them.

In early 1977, the world as I knew it was slowly dissolving. My beloved grandfather became gravely ill, and transgressed to the next realm in August of 1981. This was a very dark difficult period for my family. The happiest days of my life were spent with my grandparents. It became extremely difficult to concentrate and control my emotions during this period. On June 6, 1984, the joy of my life was birthed into this world, my son. His birth signaled a new journey for me, setting a solid foundation for the rest of my life. I was a newly minted wife and mother with different responsibilities for the care and lives of two other people. This foundation helped me to deal with the blow of my grandmother transgressing from brain cancer less than one month after the birth of my son. My