Frost Tree At My Window Essay

is very ominous. “It was a very dark evening for summer: the clouds appeared inclined to thunder,” Nelly tells Lockwood (124). Not much later, a horrible storm begins. “There was a violent wind,” Nelly says, “and either one or the other split a tree off at the corner of the building...but the uproar passed away in twenty minutes, leaving us all unharmed, excepting Cathy, who got thoroughly drenched” (125). Although it is the middle of summer, one of the times a

Thud. Slamming my head on the table I aimed yet another piece of crumpled paper towards the bin. Naturally, it misses, adding to the pile of miscellaneous paper waste. A pained sigh escaped my lips as I resigned myself to picking up my pen. Tapping some unknown rhythm on the desk, I tried to make sense of my thoughts. The bite marks on my pen lid pressed hard groves into my tired fingers, a simple reminder of reality. I needed some sort of inspiration. Another drawn out sigh as I decided that I couldn’t

HELEN KELLER’S MIDDLE LIFE            The summer of 1887 was more fun for Helen than all of her previous years. Every object she touched and named seemed to bring her closer to the rest of the world, which pleased her and made her more confident. One thing Annie worked on with Helen was to find the beauty in everything. She taught her the different kinds of flowers, and trees, by their smell and the way they felt. Annie and Helen had most of their

leaves, they notice that the leaves have all turned orange and the air is no longer warm. Every autumn thereafter, the trees at the Bailey farm stay green for a week longer than the trees to the north, and then change overnight. In the frost on the farmhouse windows the Baileys read the words, “See you next fall.” The strangers’ relationship with nature is widely portrayed throughout the story, in many paragraphs the stranger is continuously made out to be, a man of nature, and temperature

setting up lights of red and green, or picking out the perfect tree, pruned and green? In the meantime, creamy eggnog, sprinkled with flakes of graham cracker and nutmeg returns for a standing ovation after Thanksgiving. I remember writing letters addressed to the North Pole, made credible with backwards “-E”s. The foul taste of glue would linger on my tongue as I rushed into the icy wonderland with glee to personally hand the mailman my message, ensuring safe delivery. Watching endless Christmas specials

This poem was interesting because it so short and everyone can relate to it. The speaker of this poem eats the plums someone else was saving. The speaker never says who he/she was talking to, which makes me question who the speaker was talking to. He/she could be talking to his/her spouse, significant other, friend, etc. Also the plums could be a metaphor, sweet, delicious, fresh, for sexual activity, temptation, or love. Aftermath on Blackboard This poem is about how bare the land is after it

sarcastic speech might be a response such as "Well done" or "Great job", said in an angry tone to a worker who has done something wrong. An ironic "Not bad" would come when a fire-fighter across the street from a burning building sees a child on the window ledge and dashes across through traffic to catch the falling child in his arms. Both the speaker and the fire-fighter understand that "Not bad", meaning "That was acceptable, but no better" is not what the speaker means, or what he truly intends to

was uneven as I ran to my destination; whether that was home or work I can not quite remember. Consequently, I just knew I needed to arrive there and quickly. Thunder boomed again, but this time it was different. Ahead a flash of lightning struck, blinding me, causing my eyes to close for a split second, then I felt a breath of air tickle my neck. I shut my eyes tight, terrified to turn around as goose bumps crawled up my arms. Nevertheless, I turned around slowly opening my eyes, but there was only

though, so you shrug, a walk in the park as a shortcut seems nice to you. You slowly make your way across the street and onto the path. You take your time, moving at a slow pace and watching every tree you pass. Sure, it's cold but it's still beautiful. The color is still in the trees, deepened by the frost. You breathe out slowly, watching your breath come to life as you step on a stick you didn't notice. You felt it crack under your foot, but you heard no sound. You blinked, pausing for a second before

“Cat blooms.” Lili explained. Zahrah picked up one and placed it in her hair and the flower started to purr. Giggling she skipped down a stone path and Lili followed her. Not long after, they stopped at a big castle. “This is my home!” Lili said and the two walked through a large gate, guarded by two tiger cats with big hats. When they entered the large castle, a sweet smell tickled Zahrah’s nose. “What smells so tasty?” Zahrah wondered, looking amazed at the pretty walls full