Essay On Beauty Of The Yard

I’m not the Indian you had in mind; a video that was written and directed by Thomas King challenges the stereotypical image that America has towards Native Americans. King is also the author of a short novel “A seat in the Garden”. This short story also challenges the established perspective that American society has towards the Native Americans. There are various stereotypes and perspectives that a majority of the public has toward a particular group. For example some of the common stereo types that are seen throughout the media are that all Asians are good at math, women are primarily sex objects, All Africans like fried chicken, and all Mexicans are gangsters. These stereo types are not completely true for an entire group, yet they

Analyze the story structure: Tell the children that thinking about the story’s plot helps readers to understand what happens in the beginning, the middle, and the end of a story. Review plot if needed. “Let’s reread City Garden and notice what happens in the beginning, the middle and the end. “

I was a passenger in the backseat of our family vehicle. The small bumps in the pavement lulled me to a place of perfect repose. As we looked outside our windows we could see the sky painting a magnificent show for us. The sun was going down, but the heavens were brighter and more astounding than I had ever seen them before. It was as if someone had set the clouds alight with raging wildfires and splashes of pink and purple scattered about. I never wanted it to end, but the sky had other plans. The masterpiece before us began to recede into darkness as the nighttime engulfed the sun and put daytime to

A person begins to read, their body submerged in goose bumps. The description of the setting makes them fear for the protagonist. Their head fills with the anticipation of what what might happen next. They start to wonder if the protagonist is going to live. Their eyes read the page as fast as they can but then the page stops, leaving them with a head filled with fears. This is an example of how a horror story should compel the reader. A compelling horror story needs to have a scary setting, lots of suspense, and a horrifying monster. One story that has the key components is "The Landlady" by Roald Dahl.

A beam of early morning sunlight played on his face. He turned and scooted to another part of the bed in order to avoid waking. Within a few minutes the beam of sunlight had caught up with him again and was shining again directly on his eyelids. He lay there, his head in a fog, rubbed his eyes and stared at the white plastered walls trying to determine where he was and even who he was. The brightness of the room overwhelmed him with a fierce intensity. It was a few minutes before his eyes became accustomed to the light. He entertained his semi-waking mind by tracing patterns of the earthy colors on the tapestry that hung on the wall facing him. He rubbed his hands slowly on the bedsheet, felt a smoothness and said to himself, "This

This poem is full of beautiful energy of the natural world; from leaves and flowers to sunrises and sunsets, your head is full of golden images from beginning to end. Because he refers to nature as a her, you have an image of mother nature throughout the poem.

Create a sample list of owners and properties. Your list will be similar in structure to that in Figure 1:30, but it will concern owners and properties rather than owners and pets. Your list should include, a minimum, owner name, phone and billing address, as well as property name, type and address.

Outside the kitchen door, blooming wildflowers circle a mini pond where several birds drink from the lap of a stone Buddha. In the rear of the yard, secluded by a lush willow tree, is the guest house. He opens the door and we walk inside. Where, right off, the sight of lavender flowers in a vase on the night table and their scent please me. As does the bright and spacious room with a skylight right above the wood framed bed.

When Stephen visits Sachi’s garden for the first time, he finds that “There were no trees, flowers, or water, only a landscape made of sand, stones, rocks, and some pale green moss . . . Sachi had created mountains from arranged rocks, surrounded by gravel and elongated stones flowing down like a rocky stream leading to a lake or the sea” (40). Unlike Matsu’s very green and tree-filled garden, Sachi’s garden is very dry, and simplistic, yet has a peculiarly admirable feeling when one is able to see the subtle details. Although it is very different from a typical garden, its components harmonize to create a new and beautiful pattern. At first, Stephen is overwhelmed by the unfamiliar concept of a dry landscape, but after taking it in, he says it is beautiful. This garden is has a fresh taste to it, leaving Stephen to decide the effect it has on him, whether it be positive or negative. When creating the garden, Sachi insisted that it should not have flowers. However, eventually, “between two large rocks grew a neat cluster of blooming flowers, startlingly beautiful, a splash of blue-purple . . . thriving among the muted, gray stones.” The way that the bright colors contrast against the dull gray shows that something unfamiliar and novel can appear beautiful in its own way. Since Sachi’s garden is filled with pebbles and stones, the dainty flowers stand out comely, and to

Out of the darkness, rivers of brilliant light and color began to flow all around her, as if a dam holding back a rainbow had miraculously burst. Then she heard the music... a melody so beautiful it tugged at her very soul. It was as if the euphony clothed her in an impenetrable blanket. She felt warm. She felt safe. Uncontrollably, tears welled up, the hymn gripping her heart, and she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut and instinctively her body curled into a protective ball.

The essay "In Search of Our Mother's Gardens" by contemporary American novelist Alice Walker is one that, like a flashbulb, burns an afterimage in my mind. It is an essay primarily written to inform the reader about the history of African American women in America and how their vibrant, creative spirit managed to survive in a dismal world filled with many oppressive hardships. This piece can be read, understood, and manage to conjure up many emotions within the hearts and minds of just about any audience that reads it. However, Walker targets African American women in today's society in an effort to make them understand their heritage and appreciate what their mothers and grandmothers endured to

The rugged sea of the lawn illuminated the brisk zephyrs dancing. I saw each individual blade of grass flickering in the summer breezes. It was simple to watch specific pieces of grass because each one boasted a unique tint of green, a quintillion shades of green. The sky was as marvelous as ever. Colors that I could never begin to imagine were spattered, splashed, and speckled on the sky as if God himself held the palate in front of the empyrean canvas. It appeared as if the luminous sunset was a minuscule example of what heaven looked like. A mellifluous range of sounds could be heard. Cicadas buzzed, birds sang, and dogs barked.

Strutting through the familiar, gate worn by time, I spread my arms, taking in the saccharine aroma of the fresh grass. The remaining glimmers of the sun glisten on every blade that peeks through the moist soil, composing a sea of sparkling beauty, only comparable to a poem. The meadow is breathtaking this evening, as the sun sets behind the trees in the distance, leaving a glow of pinks, peaches, ambers, and crimsons behind as if a bowl of fruit had exploded in the sky.

It was a cool September evening and my mom was driving me from Los Angeles all the way to Johannesville. As we drove on quiet, deserted roads I stared out the passenger’s window and saw nothing but hills with tall, dry, golden-brown grasses. It certainly wasn’t anything like what you’d see in pictures of beautiful landscapes but it wasn’t too bad either, I actually kind of liked it. Looking at those golden hills rush past my window somehow relaxed me and sent me into a staring trance, my mind traveled to other-worldly places where I could let my imagination run wild.

A ways away from a town that I call home, I found a happy place. I often find myself walking through the park by myself. The beautiful trees, the way the yellow and red leaves crumple under my feet every step I take. When the flowers bloom and how it's the most spectacular sight you could ever imagine seeing, all the different colors that appear. When you breathe in and you get this smell of purity, you feel free and alive. Sometimes I like to sit on the old wooden bench where the bench frame is a little rusted, and I get rid of my thoughts and my eyes search the sky. In the winter the icy breeze makes me shiver, and the cold air I take in, is like sitting in front of an air conditioner and breathing in. Some mornings the sun beams across the sky, which is not quite blue yet, but the sun has almost fully risen. When the wind blows, it grazes over the blades of grass. Some days I just stand and take a deep breath in and I can taste the spring. When summer comes around, and the bees are buzzing, and the hot sun beats on the back of my neck, I lay on the soft grass and listen, to the birds chirping a beautiful song, and the kids playing in the park. The sky is the bluest view in sight.