Descriptive Essay On The Bluebells

One Saturday I decided to go over to my friend Anne’s house. When I arrived I knocked on her door, Anne's mom, Mrs. Cazzato, answered. “Hi Emma,” Mrs.Cazzato said. “Hi Mrs.Cazzato,” I replied, I was just looking for Anne.” “She’s just out back,” explained Mrs.Cazzato. “Okay,” I responded, “Thank you!” I went around back and Anne was swinging on her swing. “Hi,” I said. “Hi,” she replied. I went over and sat on the swing beside her, Anne asked, “Do you want to go for a walk in the forest?” “Sure,” I said half scared half excited. “I have never been in the forest before,” I explained. “I’ve been in the forest lots of times before and it’s not that bad,” Anne explained.

It was a cold rainy night. Mrs. Fester was making supper for her three kids in their desolate kitchen. Victor, Elizabeth, and Matilda were gathered by the fireplace watching television.“ Supper's ready,” yelled Mrs. Fester. The kids came running into the kitchen. When they sat down their mother started to cry. She had just found out that Mr. Fester had died. She didn’t know how she was going to tell her kids. “What’s wrong mother,” said Victor. “Kids I know this is hard, but your father was coming home from work and he couldn’t see very well because of the rain. He thought he would pull over to the side of the road, so he could wait for the rain to stop. When he started to pull over he didn’t realize he was pulling over to where another

There was the snow from a cold winter's past, clinging to the branches of some of the trees and glittering in the evening sunlight; I smiled as I regarded a time in my youth, when I had believed that the sparkling bits of snow were fairies dancing in the forthcoming springtime. I could still feel the chill of winter, and smell it's crisp breeze; but in my heart, I felt the hope and warmth of spring. There were tiny flowers peeking through the frigid ground; the delicate petals reminded me

“Two days later, Franny’s map led me to a field that I had always walked by but which, though beautiful, I’d left unexplored. The drawing had a dotted line to indicate a path. Searching nervously, I looked for an indentation in the rows and rows of wheat. Just ahead I saw it, and as I began to walk between the rows of paper dissolved in my hand. I could see an old beautiful olive tree just up

Rough starts, rough life and struggles, my childhood was not what I thought it would be. When I was born, I already had complications, I wasn’t those type of typical babies that would come out of their mother’s womb and cry. I came out of my mother’s womb but when I came out I did not cry. The doctor had to slap me for me to be able to cry. I was what is called a blue baby, I wouldn’t normally breath when I was a newborn. My parents even said that I almost died when I was a baby. It was long amount of time and days for me to be checked out of the hospital. For a baby, I thought that I was very strong because I handled all those pain when I was young. It was probably last year when I found out the whole story about my childhood. The doctor

The screams and giggles of joy from us are still audible, although their volumes have been dampened by the soft fabric of our scarves. We played and romped until we couldn’t feel our fingers and we had to trudge inside, catching a final glimpse of the trees, naked and brooding after being stripped by the lacerating winds. Once ridden of our sodden and damp winter gear, we rushed inside to gulp down a steamy cup of hot chocolate, complete with a few marshmallows on the top melting into the frothy, brown liquid. Those nights, we went to bed with warm hearts and

Margot stood there with her blank face like always, the children were staring back. It felt like hours before anyone spoke. She than asked. “If it was really meant to be a joke how become you left me in there for an hour while you guys were outside enjoying the sun? None of the children answered as they felt ashamed of themselves for what they have done. Finally a girl spoke and pushed William up to the front and said. Go on William it was your plan to lock Margot in the closet in the first place. Still quiet William finally spoke up and whispered. It was a joke it’s just when we heard the rain stop we got excited. That’s no excuse you knew how long i’ve been waiting to see the sun now I have to wait 7 more

She thought she would use the orange of the fallen leaf as her hair. Or maybe the brown of the bark..... The next morning Izzi watched the sun rise above the hills. She stared in awe at the colors it created. Never was anything as beautiful. Izzy turned at the noise of rustling beside her. There stood Ezra. Ezra was the only one Izzi considered close to her. He was her only friend. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Watching the colors of the sun rising." "Why?" "Because it's beautiful that's why." "Oh, not the color thing again!" he said. "Yes the color thing again! I am sick of being nothing but wind! I am sick of blending in!" "Izzi." Ezra said. "You don't blend in. You are fine just the way you are." "You don't understand," Izzi grumbled as she walked away from him. "No one does." "Izzi, come back. I'm sorry." he called after her but she did not turn around. "Izzi!" Izzi traveled for hours until the sun showed midday had

The Eastern Bluebird is a thrush with a large head, wide eyes, ample body, and attentive posture. Their wings are long, but the legs and tails are reasonably short. The beak is short and straight. The males are vivid blue on top and brick-red on the throat and breast, while the females are grayish on top with bluish wings and tail and a subtle orange-brown breast. Eastern Bluebirds measure to about 6.3–8.3 inches.

The scent of freshly cut grass wove with the smell of newly planted roses. He sat on a old and decayed wooden bench with his faced turned from society. In his hand lies newspaper titled “monster in the park”, that was torn to bits and covered in mud. In front of him, a flock of pigeons pecking at some bread crumbs, even they looked at him in disgusted. A new piece of paper is laid on her lap, his body she sketched, her eyes taking in even the tiniest of detail. She was fascinated with how every time a person would walk by and how it made his back straighten and smile brighten which then follows with sadness as the 10th person walked straight past him. She thought to herself, how can this single man – just like everyone – could be ignored. Because

Bluefin are the largest species of tuna and can live up to 40 years. They migrate across oceans and can dive more than 4,000 feet. As an Apex predator Bluefin tuna are made for speed: built like torpedoes, they have retractable fins and their eyes are set flush to their body. They are tremendous predators from the moment they hatch, seeking out schools of fish like herring, mackerel and even eels. They hunt by sight and have the sharpest vision of any bony fish. There are three species of Bluefin. The Atlantic Bluefin is the largest and most endangered of the three.

.”Well you stop bitching!” i yelled to the brown greenish eyed boy behind me,i could see out the corner of my eye his long face sink almost like it would hit the ground at any second.It was a face that reminded me of a face a once saw long ago from someone i use to know.”Hey Pete...i mean Echo i’m sorry i didn’t mean to yell at you it’s just the heat is getting to me and I just want to get to where we are going and fast as possible” i said upset with myself over my own actions.He looked up from that long look and said “it’s fine,but can i ask you a question”.i knew what that question would be and i know i had avoided it for as long as possible.”Who is pete?,it’s not the first time you’ve call me that either” he said with a new confused and curious look on his face.With a long sigh and a deep breath i turned to him and said”Just some you remind me of that’s all,someone i knew a long time ago”.He look right in my eyes and said “i feel like there’s more to it”I just looked down at the dirt and said one day i’ll tell you but for now we need to get off this scorched piece of highway and find someplace to sleep,it’s getting late and i

Penny stared at the corner of her desk. On it sat a cardboard box decorated with swirls of ink in every different color. Sometimes Penny thought they made words, and other times she thought they were merely decorations. She had had that box for as long as she could remember, but she had never dreamt of opening

He noticed that there were flowers growing on the windowsill. “Momma never could get flowers to grow there. She tried and tried, but they just wouldn't grow.” Mrs.Click let out a small laugh, trying to ease some of the awkwardness. The man made his way to the living room without permission. He remembers that there was a huge water stain in the living room, but now it’s gone. The stranger’s face lit up with excitement and curiosity when he saw the window seat. He limped quickly to it and let out a soft and surprised cry. Hugging his knees like a child, he sat happily on the seat mumbling to himself, “This was my happiest place.” The smile turned to a frown and watery eyes as he finished the statement by saying,“At least when Daddy wasn’t home, it was.” He moved along with a tour of the home and it led him upstairs to the children's rooms. He made his way into their son’s room. Sure enough, that was his room growing up. The stranger plopped on the bed and sat. He sat there for a moment, reliving his childhood. Then, he made his way to the boy and talked about the idea of infinity. Mr.Click stopped the stranger and ask him if he wanted to see the master bedroom. The stranger repulsively said

Rebore (2014) presents another powerful dimension and principle: autonomy in decision making, opportunity for professional growth, and professional status.Blackaby &Blackaby(2011) also highlights the consequences of decision making. Making sound decisions in a timely manner can strengthen a leader. Whereas, bad decisions can cause disruption in the leader’s status among the organization. As they are recognized as essential aspects of good and bad leadership. With ineffective leadership bears mistakes. Being a person that formulates every movement among the eye of public constitutes mistakes that are forgiven once, but not on multiple attempts. Consequently, it provides an opportunity for personal growth and reflection. Blackaby & Blackaby (2011)