The Magic Lake : A Description Of A Magical Lake

Many people, after reading “The Death of the Moth” by Virginia Woolf or “Once More to the Lake,” would get the general idea that both essays are about death. However, it is apparent to me that both works are really an illustration of the significance of life, but each essay accomplishes this in a different way. I aim to show how these two essays are alike by comparing their similar theme of “carpe diem” as well as some stylistic choices.

Once More To The Lake In the essay “Once more to the lake”, by E.B.white. He was trying to show his past experience when he was a little boy. And how life was back in the day First, Based in the story it mostly about a father and son go to the lake, it was his favorite place for camping such as fishing in his childhood.

“Once More to the Lake” is a short essay written by E.B. White for his column in the New Yorker, One Man’s Meat. “Once More to the Lake” is a story about a father who is taking his son to his childhood vacation spot. On the trip, the father finds himself inside the memories of his past. Throughout the trip, the father finds differences in the lake from when he was a child. While much of E.B. White 's essay is set in the present, the author explores his own mortality as he looks both to the past and to the future.

One day, I was sitting at the kitchen counter doing some math problems when Vanessa ran upstairs and out the door to the woods.

This is my attempt at depicting the beauty of Lake Cunningham. Although not an accurate representation, the artwork still closely resembles the park, as it was inspired by the memories I had at Lake Cunningham as a child. As a child, I would often hike along the trail, run around the grass, or skip stones across the lake. These are memories that I cherish and I hope that other children will also have to chance to do the same. My park matters because living in a technological driven society, this is the closest thing we to nature. The scenery at Lake Cunningham could help soothe our minds and improve our mental health as it it can help us de-stress. Lake Cunning has a lot to offer and had been around for decades, thus we must help preserve

Vanessa is an elementary school teacher whom described growing in a “close and warm” home. Vanessa indicated she moved out of her parent’s home right after college,

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

In the passage “Once More to The Lake” White realizes the similarities and differences of the lake he grew up visiting every summer with his father to how it is now that he’s visiting it with his own son. As he does activities with his soon he seen that most things still remain the same over the long period of time. As said in the passage “I knew it, lying in the bed the first morning, smelling the bedroom, and hearing the boy sneak quietly out and go off along the shore in a boat.” This reminds him of when he was younger going to the lake, the smell of the bedroom and now he’s like his father hearing his son sneak out to go in the boat by himself. The changes he realized was when him and his son goes into the store there were more Coca-Cola

She said to herself scrambling through the forest ever more eager to get to the safety of the neighboring country of Salved. As she broke through the branches of a wild berry tree, partially covering her sent from bloodthirsty Shepherds chasing her, she found herself in a small little clearing about twelve feet across. Sunlight lit the clearing from two parted trees somewhere above, the only lighting in this cursed forest, towards the left of the clearing there was a mossy boulder with a tree growing around the backside. Towards the right there was a single tree branch that seems to existed on its own, pulled down by a perfectly seeming fully ripened red apple. Running down the middle of the clearing was a little stream. But as much as her legs yearned to rest on the boulder and as much as her stomach grumbled and her throat begging to be wet by the cold stream water she knew it was either just her imagination or a trap. Real or not she chose to avoid it running around the outer right side still unsealed by the

Leo shook off a flood of rippling goose flesh as his left foot touched the doorway of the ancient manor. The 150-year-old lintel didn't even sigh, much less creak, as he had expected. He was there for his best friend's birthday party at the Auburn Manor, on the shores of Dead Man's Lake, a two hour drive from the city.

I was at home and a heard dad my talking about. The lake of legend and it is said that the water gives life To good people. So I told my dad If I could go and he said no. So at night got out and sow a man he said that I need to be strong so if I run into a wall or something I could get through. So he gave me a new name and it was Strong Sebastian and a got strong. And am hand were strong enough to break a wall and rocks. So I was on my way on the way I met a man named Max with a broken leg. So I give him a new name good leg Max. So then he gives me his wheelchair. So I am on me way to the lake of legend. I pass a store and get food and wen I get out I see. A boy named Jay and his hand is broken so. I give him a new name and it is strong hand

Water, glittering, as the sun throws sparks across the creased, sapphire expanse. Flashes of the lullaby of rising and falling waves through the trees. Golden sands shimmering from across the lake. Our soreness melted as we drove into Windhaven, the group of cabins where our family stays during the weeklong annual family reunion. We got out of the car and breathed in the fresh, lake air laced with nonchalance and the feeling and freedom of summer.

I breathe in the warm air as I gaze out at my beautiful home. So wide I’m not even certain I’ve seen all it’s beauty that lies beneath. I can see the shadows of tiny fish swimming above the soft sand. They are so small they look as though they are microscopic. I reach down and run my hands through the wet substance that is so thick that my muscles grow tired the deeper my hand goes. As I lift my hand up, the sand makes a cloud of powder, slowly drifting through the water. The waters are so calm as though nothing could anger them. Each wave slowly rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the sea. I lower my fins beneath the water and a coolness rushes through me as I feel the cold, wet water. The soft breeze brushes against my skin with the scent of an indescribable satisfaction. Hours passed as the warmth of the sun seemed to just soak into my skin and relax my mind.

The ocean strokes land with calm and reassuring hands, lacing water with sand and lifting seashells in its wake. My heart urges me forward, to walk among the peace, to capture the sweet smell of sea salt. My brain reasons with the rest of my body. Turning sharply from the churning water I force my feet to leave the warm imprint they have grown to love

The warm breeze of the ocean air flies past my face. The heat of the yellow sun was sizzling, beating down against my skin, tanning and burning it within seconds. Beach goers were crowded around in all directions. Seagulls gliding past the groups of people, scouting for dropped or forgotten food to eat. Their little footprints marking a trail in the sand all over the place, going in a million different directions, searching for their next meal. I take in the exquisiteness of it all, the blue-green waves crashing into the sandy shore, making white foam and bubbles wash into the sea, little boys and girls that are digging in the bright white sand running away from the small waves before they get wet. The beach is a stunning place to be; there's just something about the ocean waves and the sand between my toes that makes me just want to stay there forever.