The warming rays of the sun slowly peeked through the window and into my room. As every morning begins, I am awakened by these beams of light shining in my face. As I sat up, I looked out my bedroom window. Through the thick brush of trees, I see what little sun I can as it casts its sunbeams in every direction. It illuminated the ground and the woods; the colors of which were slightly off, almost like looking at them through a stained window pane. I watched the sun climb higher into the sky. But the higher it got the less time I realized I had to play. For me, playing was one of the very most important things. I had so many toys, but I would always rather play with, for example, Lady Spoon and Master Fork that hailed from Ye Old Drawer. I had many other ordinary objects I would make up to be interesting. One would never find me playing with an actual Barbie doll. Once I had fished planning my day in my head, I then proceeded to get dressed and ready to tackle the day. As soon as I was able to sit down and eat breakfast, my sister woke up. My sister, Ronnie, is just three and a half years younger than me, but she acts like she is much younger than that. She runs out crying that I left her alone in our bedroom. “Why did you leave me ALONE?!” Ronnie cries Annoyed, I shot her a look of disdain, and growled “You big baby. If you can’t deal with me leaving my own room just to eat breakfast just because you want me to have the pleasure of waiting for your big butt to get up, then sorry, but not happening.” Ronnie begins to weep, but I can see through that in a New York minute. After I finish my breakfast I bring my dishes up to the sink. As usual, I quickly rinse the dish off and set it in the sink. However, it was hard to put my... ... middle of paper ... ...e victim of a ghostly possession. You should think of yourself as lucky that he didn’t possess you.” Ronnie looked up at me and said that I was right and that I was brave. I then proceeded to make myself look better by saying, “and I even tried to fight it, he was strong, but I knew I had to save you somehow. You’re welcome.” In the days to follow I grew very guilty and had to confess to her. She didn’t take it well. In fact she told on me right away, even after I had tried to bribe her with three quarters; I guess she just didn’t see the endless possibilities of 75 cents like I did. I was later punished and was made to do everyone’s laundry for a week. However, I saw that there was something very valuable to be learned from all of this; the next time I got revenge (which was soon in Ronnie’s case), I won’t be confessing after I have already gotten away with it.
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
Dani and I stand in the sun waiting for the “men” to catch up. The view was worth Quill’s whining and navigating through the snow. The breeze catches in the bright green and gold of new Aspen leaves whispering around the lake. The Pine trees scent the air and bask in the sun to steal its warmth from the forest below. The trees are a dark canopy along our path permitting only a few patches of the raised finely mulched trail to a beam or two of sun. Framed like a photo three pencil lead gray peaks rise above a lower sweeping curve of pines. They look close enough to walk over the ridge and touch them. Boulders precariously cling to the side of the mountains. The perfect deep blue early summer sky is the perfect backdrop.
Robert Frost’s poem Desert Places (1936) begins to stimulate the reader’s visual senses in the first stanza. The poem begins, “Snow falling and night falling fast/ground almost covered in smooth snow,” (Frost, 1936; pg. 654, line 1&2. The sunlight motion suggests a “balance of upward and downward, rising and falling” (Harris, J. 2004), resplendent in nature and indirectly influences the reader spiritually and emotionally. Jane Kenyon’s Let Evening Come (1990), uses sunlight to project an image of a slow moving late afternoon sun, which will soon slip into the darkness of night.
Lastly, what are some toys we played with when we were younger and how did it affect us? We all had very different experiences and toys growing up. One reason why we had diverse experiences growing up is because we are all from different places throughout the world. Where we either played with the stereotypical toys, such as sport or action figure toy that were directed for boys, or we had little experiences growing up with toys. People that play with the stereotypical toys it enforced that stereotype on them, where
I prepared myself for the upcoming adventurous day. I set out along a less-traveled path through the woods leading to the shore. I could hear every rustle of the newly fallen leaves covering the ground. The brown ground signaled the changing of seasons and nature's way of preparing for the long winter ahead. Soon these leaves would be covered with a thick layer of snow. The leaves still clinging to the trees above displayed a brilliant array of color, simultaneously showing the differences of each and the beauty of the entire forest.
As the first rays of the sun peak over the horizon, penetrating the dark, soft light illuminates the mist rising up from the ground, forming an eerie, almost surreal landscape. The ground sparkles, wet with dew, and while walking from the truck to the barn, my riding boots soak it in. The crickets still chirp, only slower now. They know that daytime fast approaches. Sounds, the soft rustling of hooves, a snort, and from far down the aisle a sharp whinny that begs for breakfast, inform me that the crickets are not the only ones preparing for the day.
As I read this work of art, my mind was transported to my favorite place in the outdoors. My imagination was filled with the waving of the tall grass, the stillness of the trees, and the feeling that time is standing still and I’m the only one who notices. For example, it sparked the idea, or memory, of how much I love nature and the outdoors, and the great sense of peace it brings to me. In an instant, it showed me how far I had drifted from that mindset.
On that fateful day in March, I was a couple months shy of my third birthday. My family and I lived in New Mexico at the time and were renting a house with an outdoor in-ground pool. The day was beautiful. I was outside with my oldest sister Rachel and my father. Rachel was diligently reading curled up on a bench that sat against the house, and my father was mowing the backyard. My mother and my other sister were in the house. Off to one side of the house there was a group of large bushes. I was playing over there with one of her large cooking pots, off in my own little world. At one point while amusing and en...
It was Tuesday and the day was draining away. I wanted to go buy new hair dye, but I knew it was too late. Careless, I got money from my piggy bank and asked my little sister Natalie to come along. I usually go out by myself but I decided to take her to feel more safe. Since my parents were not home yet I had to make this trip quick, so we took the bus.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her gargantuan skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every morning together
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...
The sun was still below the horizon but the clouds above the mountains were tainted the color of pomegranates. Around me the shadows seemed empty. I tried not to look into the brush as I walked down the driveway. I had stopped before, looking to see the back of the shadows; staring hard, only to have them retreat from my eyes indefinitely. Invisible birds called from within. Their sound followed me down the driveway and onto the road.
The significance of chores in the household is important in building the character of our youth. When children participate in the chores of the house they can learn more than how to wash a plate or how to separate the recycling; children can learn to be independent and responsible and develop a proper work ethic that can benefit them throughout their lives. Physical activity is another benefit that children can receive by participating in chores; physical activity can reduce the risk of mental and physical disease. Children who do not do chores may also be independent, responsible, be appreciative of hard work, and have a reduced risk of mental and physical illnesses, but children who do participate in chores are more likely to experience