My Orchard - Original Writing

I leaned my head against the car window watching the leaves blowing around, just trying to distract myself from a slight feeling of emptiness inside of me. This feeling seemed all too familiar to me. My family and I had all of our possessions packed into boxes yet again. We were moving to a new state. At this point, up rooting our lives and starting over almost seemed more like a hobby than anything more significant. However, I have just now come to realize that what seemed like constant inconveniences in the past, have actually taught me how to be the best me with influences all around the country. Living in three different states and five homes may have been a challenge, but it provided me with memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything because those moments created the person I am today.

Today, as the rain was tapping on my window, I stared out at the storm clouds casting shadows onto the long green fields of spring. As I was watching as the grass and the leaves in the trees on the horizon sway with the wind, my mind was recalled to a time that I’ve been trying to hide away for a long while now.

Today, fifty-odd years later, I sit on my porch alone, swinging gently in the morning. I can look out over the yard. It looks just the same as the place were my most important moment of my life happened. I’ve kept it like that, so I never forgot. It's a large yard, that looks like a tiny meadow in a forest. It’s the height of summer right now, so all the trees are full and green. Just like it was then.

Everyone has a favorite holiday. There is Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, the Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and then there is everyone’s favorite- Christmas! Christmas comes with the feeling of warmth, of family, and of home. What happens, though, if all one ever knew during Christmas time was completely changed? What happens if home just is not home anymore? Sandra M. Castillo addresses that situation that actually occurred in her own life in her poem, “Christmas, 1970.” Castillo moved from Cuba to the United States in 1970 and as an eight-year old she reveals her true feelings during and about the Christmas season. Throughout the poem, she reveals a theme of what home means to her, written in her point of view as she sits under her aunt’s Christmas tree at her aunt’s apartment. Castillo uses devices like symbolism, imagery, and flashback to support her them that no one can return to their childhood home.

The setting changes while Francie continues to mature into a woman. She becomes 16, and is beginning to lead a life of her own. The family leaves the grieving they had for Johnny behind. Not only does Francie start out with a clean slate, so does the rest of the Nolan family. After the two and ½ years of mourning for Johnny, Sergeant Mc Shane asks Katie to marry him. War rages through the country. While he and Katie make arrangements for the fall wedding and gifts of money and whatnot, Francie makes headway in her personal life.

Michael Pollan, author of The Botany of Desire: A Plant’s View of the World, addresses four major plant groups that have both changed for human needs and simultaneously changed human’s needs. While most gardeners, genetic engineers and other plant related professionals have long-believed that plants have evolved based on what we want or need to survive and in other words what we have “domesticated”, Pollan appeals to the plant’s view. Plants’ survival has been solely based on what humans desire both depending on their visual and stimulatory appeal along with their appeal to an appetite. Conversely, plants have used humans as a strategy for “getting us to move and think for them (page xx)”. Many plants have successfully maneuvered humans for

I came to Maycomb County to teach. I would be a first grade teacher at the little towns elementary school. I moved here because I found a house that fits my dreams. Not to big, a walk around porch, and even had a white picket fence around it. Just a few blocks from the center of maycomb county, I settled my belongings before the summer ended. I Waited for the little six years olds to walk in and fill my day with joy. I woke up bright and early. I curled my bright auburn hair, blushed my cheeks with pink roses, and painted my nails crimson. I put my high heels on and my favorite back to school dress, It was striped with red and white all along it.

Throughout the tour with Ms. Pedraza we were subjected to a short walk. The tour began with an example of a certified organic field. The tour then led us on a short walk to test plots of grass that is engineered to possibly become a solution to conventional grasses by means of drought resistance. Right next to the plots of test grass there were also huge bushels of Elephant grass that we're going to be converted into biofuels. We then walked across Barstow Ave as a class and observed conventional corn sprouts that are coordinated and planted weekly to keep up with the corn demand of the Gibson Farmers Market. Throughout the entire tour the most distinguishable

Being in the home was like a separate world, one between life and death. When I reached the outside world again everything seemed so fresh. There were bright yellow-green leaves that hung with an arrogant vivacity, cars that sped by with such fervor, wind blowing with verve and energy, lively children playing with a vivacious lust for life, and the vitality that exudes from the air into your lungs. I wanted to bring this energy into

The beauty of not belonging and seclusion from Cane Creek Park create a feeling of wonder and amazement, that makes a person long to go back time after time. The willow trees stand gracefully, and elegantly as they dance around the park and convey positive vibes. There is a dock that contains many mysteries and many unanswered questions. The swing that stands distant from the rest is worn and waits for the next child to find it and to find comfort in it. There is also the rippling water and the curiosities that behold the tree that has been there for ages. It’s beauty is conveyed by the piercing warm sun. This park creates a safe place for those whose mind may be depressed or maybe just lonely, and it comforts those with the allurement of

I spent my childhood in Suburban Connecticut, and my teenage years in Florida. Both places effected my outlook on life and my personality in different ways, especially because my experiences in both places was very different. In Connecticut, we felt the effect of a climate with four discreet seasons — and many of my conceptions of family life still have seasonal associations. Raking leaves and picking apples during the autumn; ice-skating with my sister during winter; how good it felt to slink off our scarfs and heavy coats in the spring; and the sadness of leaving my parents to go away to summer camp. Eventually moving to Florida, at age 15, the things I missed the most was the excitement of seasons changing. We had the sun year-round their

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.

I would have never thought that I would grow up to love the country life. I went from growing up in a big, busy, and hectic city, to a small, slow-paced, and simple town. I was so used to having neighbors, and walking and biking on a side-walk. Now I live on a gravel road with almost no neighbors. A change in environment really influences a person's personality. I now love the silence and hearing the birds chirp and coyete’s howl. The corn fields go on for miles and the sunsets are breathtaking.

The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning

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.