Essay On A Garden

“Chloe, Time for dinner!” I said to my five-year-old daughter as she raced down the stairs to find Swiss chard on the table for her waiting to be eaten. It had been 6 years since I've last seen the community garden, but I hear that it's been thriving more than ever. The community garden helps me accept that I was going to have a baby. Since then, I have been preparing and have found someone to marry, using dating sites from all over the internet. I really am interested in him and he is willing to help me take care of Chloe. he is a police officer at the station on Gibb Street. His name is Royce. I met him one summer at the community garden and since then we have been best friends and now boyfriend and girlfriend. Royce wants another child

One of my most cherished experiences throughout my high school career is founding the school Gardening Club. I have helped bring together a community of wonderful people to watch them grow and learn, and I have done the same alongside them as their President. But my reason for starting this club was because of a larger community I belong to. A niche group comprised of great people anywhere from Leonardo da Vinci to Ray Bradbury, and so many more.

The night coats the air with darkness as we arrive. The only light is the warm glow of the headlights piercing through the thick blanket of the night, and the moon gazing down upon us. Click, our headlamps go on. We hop out the car, as a rush of whipping wind engulfs my face. The cold night air flows through the stitching of my clothes stealing the warmth from my body and sending chills down my spine. My friend and I search to find a campsite, like dogs searching for a buried bone. Walking, I can feel the crisp grit of sand shifting beneath my feet and hear the wind flowing like a river through the trees. Down the worn path, we hang our hammocks and start to gather firewood. Sounds of machetes striking branches fill the woods echoing

I walked about half a mile to Houghton Garden. As I was walking, I was reminded of how beautiful nature is. The grass was a light green and the sun was brightly shining on me. As I continued walking to the Garden, I walked past some turkeys and rabbits. They were also observing the beauty of nature. The weather was perfect. It was warm, with a slight breeze. After walking for about fifteen minutes, I finally found a bench to sit on. The bench was located on top of a small hill with a gorgeous view. The sun was shinning on my back, enhancing my view of the Garden. There were hundreds of trees surrounding me. The trees ranged from thin to thick. One of the tree’s branches had fallen and was dangling a few inches from the ground. The only thing that was keeping it from touching the ground, was that there was a

Miller High School has a need to teach and show students how to live a healthy lifestyle. The lunches served have fruits and vegetables, but they are usually frozen, soggy, or beyond fresh; they are unappetizing and don’t encourage students to eat healthy. Miller schools could be healthier and more educated by starting a school wide vegetable garden. Coxhealth could work to fulfill its mission by assisting Miller as they start this garden.

The rose garden was located on the top of a man-made hill just right of the giant 18-footed trees. This hill had a warm, humid breeze combined from the Pacific Ocean and hot Riverside hot weather. provided a hub of different types of singing birds, graceful butterflies, buzzing beetles, tall trees, and a variety of flowers from all over the world. As I walked into the garden, there were several rows of different species of roses with different colors. Surrounding the rows of animated flowers, the flowers were sectioned off in four with bright orange, mellow yellow, pure white, odd purple, fierce red, and light pink. As well, three benches placed purposefully on the perimeter of the rectangular garden. I

A Review of “Effects of Horticultural Therapy on Mood and Heart Rate in Patients Participating in a Inpatient Cardiopulmonary Rehabilitation Program”

The light reflected off of the green and yellow of the leaves and the trees, making the trees seem much larger than they normally would. Rustling of the leaves was the only sound that could be heard over Frisk’s breathing. The rays of the sun warmed their sweater. All that could be heard is the soft crunching of the leaves underfoot. The birds rustled impatiently as if waiting for Frisk to leave. Yet they still continued through the bulk of the woods, breathing quickly. Frisk looked at their hands shadows of leaves and flowers covering the warm light. The knuckles white still from the firm grip they held, small indents in the palm from their nails. Frisk took a deep breath, putting a small hand on their heart.

Renaissance art incorporated many new artistic techniques as well as religious themes from the Middle Ages. The defining style of Renaissance art was realism, realistic depictions of landscapes and the human form. Agony in the Garden features incredibly ideal and accurate human anatomical structure with the figures of Jesus and his disciples Peter, James and John having realistic expressions and positions. The desert landscape contains a very realistic depiction of sand and nature. It also incorporates the law of perspective to give the illusion of three dimensions within a two dimensional artwork by making things appear farther away than the main focus of the painting. Bellini also used light with beams and shadows to achieve this effect and

Once we reached the bottom, we collapsed in a sun-drenched meadow. Delicate, white, pink, and purple wildflowers were intertwined between ripping blades of grass. The blossoms though tiny infused the air with a warm fragrance that—for me—evoked summers of fresh picked strawberries and hay turning yellow beneath the sun. In the distance, I saw a stand of dark pine trees, and beyond them, a languid brook trickled softly on a bed of pebbles into a sliver lake. The field was surrounded by blue hills and Shadow

After a short time of walking, I arrive to an opening surrounded by trees 4 stories tall. The sun has exploded in rays of bright light. The grass, as high as my ankles, scrap against my pants. This is where I will create a fire, filling the cove with the smell of burning wood and marshmallows. At this point in my journey I can be alone and at peace. With the roaring fire, the sound of the wood hissing and crackling, I can sit and relax. I can feel the soft scratches of grass on the back of my neck and look up to the extraordinary sky littered with

The rustle of the stale leaves beneath my feet is soothing. They fly up with every shuffle I take. Walking in the woods is pure serenity. The periwinkle blue sky is so clear, I feel like this is all my imagination. When I stop walking the sound ceases and all I can hear is nature. The uncontaminated stream rolls over the rocks, comforting me. On the banks of the stream is the lush vegetation that brushes me with a faint sense of welcome as I walk by. I hear the repetitive drumming of a woodpecker in the trees and the familiar noise of a creature in the bushes. There are not too many bugs this time a year, and for that I am grateful. Right now it is just me under the influence of Mother Nature. There is nothing else to be concerned about, which

The old ones surely bore great wisdom wisdom with them. One of them said," Never underestimate the therapeutic value of landscaping. It renders a boundless platform where people can make use of their incipient creative talents to create impressive and satisfying artistic work. It renders a remarkable opportunity for individuals to use their thoughts, undying patience and the gift of mother nature to create their own paradise." True. And every aesthetically literate person knows that the artistic dimensions of existence makes sense for every sphere of human endeavor; and that a sophisticated artistic sensibility has the ability to bring a cure to cancer as to the composition of a great symphony.

on the needs of the local residents. Ethnic foods specific to the community’s needs would also

The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.