Life In The Town Of Stoneshade Analysis

In the book Seedfolks, a character named Kim travels to vacant lot in her town, Cleveland Ohio, to plant Lima Beans to honor her father, who passed away before Kim was even born. While Kim is in the process of planting her beans and watering them daily, people around the vacant lot being to notice her actions . Many people follow what Kim is doing and make there own little garden, which causes the community of Cleveland to be together and to communicate to one another. Throughout the book many character come and go to the garden, and each character shares something in common with someone else apart of this Community Garden. The novel Seedfolks shows that the garden has change everyone’s perspectives on things, and made them feel apart of something they might have never been apart of before. Some people that are involved are KIm, Ana, Sae Young, Maricela, and Curtis.

In the book Seedfolks, a character named Kim enters a vacant lot in her town, Cleveland, Ohio, to plant Lima Beans to honor her father, who passed away before Kim was even born. While Kim is in the process of planting her beans and watering them daily, people around the vacant lot being to notice her actions . Many people followed what Kim was doing and made their own little garden, which causes the community of Cleveland to be together and to communicate with one another. Throughout the book many characters come and go in the garden, and each character shares something in common with someone else. The garden brings people together, and helps them communicate with one another, without the garden, some people might never have communicated with someone that has a different appearance as them. The novel Seedfolks shows us, that the garden changed everyone’s perspectives on people in their community and how they judge them by appearance. It shows how you can give someone chances, before you can judge them. Some people that show this theme, are Kim, Ana, Sae Young, Maricela, Sam, and Curtis.

On the contrary, the lifestyle of the younger generation is one that embraces radical alteration of the surrounding environment to match a visual image created by the movers-in. Young men, unfamiliar with manual labor, work hard to cut and burn the bushes which surround their homes, in the hopes that in two years their yards may be decorated by “ornamental shrubs”. Either they have very specific tastes in exotic shrubbery or they have despicable planning skills. The fact that the men are young professionals would suggest the former. Even so, they persist at their contradictory task during the weekend. The fact that such weekends could be spent with family would suggest that the priority the men

First, I took a train through Belgium and began heading North West through fields of green grass and farms. Two hours later, the most beautiful city lay in front of me, Bruege. The spirits of the city welcomed me into its prehistoric structures. The first thing I see is a stream of water, and towering tree’s all along the parkway path. A red mud like path leads me throughout the trees and serene body of water. The sun is hidden behind gloomy clouds. Once I crossed over this arched white and distressed bridge, a cathedral and many little houses greet you, leading a brick path through the city. Along your path, folks are riding the only sourcec of transportation, horse and

Jeff stepped out of the car doubtfully on that first day. The face was plain, green, and colonial, and the garage held only one car. This was hardly the house of his dreams. The boys, however, did not hesitate. Slamming doors, they ran across the yard and began playing among the six stately columns of a giant poplar tree. Before long, weekends and vacations were spent cutting limbs and vines and pulling holly stumps. Now there is an endless play of light and shade. The breeze lifts, leaves dance, treetops sway, and I can

Fragrant Hills is the most welcoming town in America. No smile fails to rise at a newcomer, and each and every happy citizen never fails to greet their neighbors on their morning walks, which is a beloved hobby of most citizens. The cheer is especially high when the cool air of spring first gives way to the warm embrace of May. The old folk happily walk their dogs on the sidewalk and enjoy the beautiful green trees blowing peacefully in the soft wind. Children skip home from school, eagerly awaiting the time they can throw off their backpacks and spend all of summer with their friends and fun.

In the Midwestern region of the United States, there is a town called Plymouth in the state of Wisconsin. It is a small welcoming town with one road running down the middle, invokes the feeling of home. At night, the street lights glow along the sidewalks; the houses along the road are inviting with landscaped yards, large wicker wreaths on doors and the warmth of families gathering around the table for dinner. In the corner of Plymouth sits a park, Meyers Park is nestled between the rolling farm hills and a slow flowing river to the south. The park is where I spent my childhood, a place where I grew into the person I am today. Meyers Park will always hold important memories I have made.

The fresh salt smell from the ocean diffuses through the pure thick tropic air. When walking away from the beach you enter an almost mirage sort of eden, Natural Rainforest covers from where the sand meets the soil to far out into the country with every shade of green glowing. The emerald green trees sway calmly from side to side, Soon the sand turns into low laying grass, That tickles between your toes.Huddling into the exuberant verdure the beautiful waterfalls inland are like a sight of the bliss, watching them for hours would not be enough to satiate your desire to feast your eyes on that beauty of incredible merging of colours into a pool of cool crystal clear water. Nature finds a perfect way to collaborate with the buildings that look frozen in time with white and cyan coloured houses on each street, some with a slick of fresh paint and others worn down by time with chips of pain peeling of around the edges, each house with a white picket fence like out of an old film. Night brings a whole new sensory experience, as the tide comes in people leave the beaches and head to the main

A few white-tailed deer bounded this way and that, while birds sang overhead. It was truly beautiful, but not as beautiful as the view that awaited us down the road. Just a few minutes down that path, right before it trailed back into the forest, I could literally see for miles. What lie before me were the fields of coffee on the sides of the mountain. Behind this were neighborhoods of cream stucco with their brick-red ceramic or bright, tin roofs. The cityscape was unlike any I had seen; instead of rising up, like they do in America, it sprawled out organically. The city mingled with the greenery in such a way that the homes seemed as if they belonged there. I was struck by how different the landscape of this beautiful country was compared to back

The final bell peals as I tug my hood over my head and run through the halls. Rain pelts down outside the window, drowned out by the chatter of the other students. Usually, I’m not in a rush. But today’s storm is thick and loud. Dad will need help with the horses. Yes, I said horses. There aren’t many places where you can have horses literally living in your backyard. (Well, I mean, in the stables in your backyard.)Only in the smallest of towns does this happen. For example, Acorn Creek. The town that I live in. It’s called Acorn Creek because of the small river winding through the woods, as well as the multitude of oak trees. I mean, it’s not like we don’t have pine trees, but nobody gave those any credit. Hmph.

Approaching an unknown frontier, I was suddenly surrounded by sprawling foliage and vast forestry. In the midst of towering trees, I walked down a dirt path longing to find my individuality. The rustling of leaves warned predators of my oncoming approach. I reached the swampland, filled with new layers of fresh algae and marsh. The surface does not budge like a Venus flytrap, mouth open waiting for its next victim. However, the most interesting thought is the peace and quietness that is so long forgotten in today's urban sprawl of the twenty first century. With the constant rushing of one place to another, one forgets the elegance that comes with the solitude of being in one's own company. The buzzing of dragonflies and mosquitoes awoke me

Upon entering the village of DePue, IL, one may ponder about the festering odor of sulfuric acid in the air that clashes with the scenic view of a serene lake surrounded by wooded land. The main street of DePue is lined with locally owned businesses, along with abandoned, crumbling buildings. The community members of this village may either smile and wave at a passer-by, or glare at you with an off-putting facial expression. Despite the confusing impression a non-resident or visitor might form, DePue has an interesting history. DePue is home to about 1,800 residents whom are devoted to preserving the traditions that this community has to offer.

The little mountain village is surrounded by a vibrant forest with a variety of trees and animals. In the spring and summer months, it is green and active with wild life. In the winter, the village and the forest are covered with snow.

Around a bend, and out of the blue, there came a town. Even so far from the nearest city, the town was butsling. Main Street was lined with colorful buildings restored from the Victorian era. A two floor hotel, elegant even in it’s old age, announced its presence at the corner of an intersection. The stout brick walls stood fortified, defying the valley winds. The occasional house could be seen through the tightly packed boutiques, shops, and art galleries. One was baby blue and white, another, the color of dried saffron. Further on down Main Street, natural hot springs revealed themselves. People of every age packed into the heated pools. A vicious game of volleyball had commenced, and more people were flocking to the net even in the second it took to drive past. Eventually, the quaint Main Street ended, and the highway led the car through several switchbacks that twisted up the side of the valley. At the top, a weather worn sign named the town “Ouray”, and the sight below was one to behold. Ouray spread through the bowl formed when rivers and mountains collide, spreading to the edges until not a shed more could’ve been built. But the highway kept leading, and the car kept

When the sun slowly peeps over the range of mountains, birds shake the morning dew off their feathers and give a cheerful song that would lift even the most sorrowful of spirits. A light fog wraps around the mountain range, reaching to touch every bit of life thriving there. The slight chill in the air is enough to give a gentle shiver, but not enough for the need of a jacket. A breeze tickles the trees, making their leaves shake and sway with laughter. Sunlight seeps in past the thick canopy of branches with hopes of being able to reach the damp mountain earth. The mountains are the best place to live to be relaxed, see the most beauty, and never get bored.