I didn't think something so beautiful could be so scary. The rock crumbles under my feet as I look out into a wide landscape big rolling hills at the bottom of massive cliffs towering over trees like people to ants. The rock beneath my feet is hard but soft there's no real substance to the rock it's just crumbled into dust and sat there at my feet. Trees flap in the air like seaweed underwater. The wind rushes through my coat and my pants feeling like it was pushing me to the edge. Trees crack next to me as the wind pushes and pulls on the branches of the blue gums. The sky seems empty only with white puffs of cloud scattered in with the dark blue of the afternoon. Blackbirds fly across the sky looking like choc-chips flying from one side to another circling looking for a spot to land. They start to land spiralling down into a black mess of squawking and flapping wings on a tree. The tree bends with the bird's weight as they all land on the one branch. The rocks slide a bit as my foot moves closer to the edge looking down …show more content…
A river flowing with crystal clear water, bright green ferns and round boulders mark the banks. The water runs fast like a mouse running from a cat. A kangaroo jumps to the water bank looking left and right. From where I was standing all I could see was his dark brown head and a brown to black spot with a long thick tail poking out the end. As I looked closer some rock slipped and fell, hit the sides of the cliff and echoed thought out the valley. The sharp rock hit the water with a bang and scared the kangaroo, he bolted and smashed into the ferns as he ran away from the shadow of the rock. Ferns rustle as he pushes through the thick bush, disturbing the blackbirds as they start to squeak and carry on again. There cry’s are captured by the thick rock and bounce around in the vast
In the trees the birds stopped singing, and gradually quietened down until silence had completely fallen over the hills. They sat in their nests, motionless, like small figures, lifeless. All could be heard was the wind, and the occasional tumble of leaves onto the rocky surface beneath.
As the group became engulfed in the dark foliage an eerie feeling set in. "I don't think we should of left the fire" Pigsy wined. Monkey simply rolled his eyes and carried on trudging though the mucky floor of the forest. The louder the squeal became, the forest finally started to weed out. The mucky floor became grassy and just when the squawk was so unbearably loud Monkey, Monk, Pigsy, and Sandy found themselves in an open field. In front of them was a white crane. The enormous bird stretched about five feet long and was lying in the tall grass. The group was in awe at the birds' beauty and size. The moonlit felid gave its once white feathers a light blue glow. The crane was lying in the field, breathing heavily and injured. Looking down Monk...
When the song had ended, the Fairies and the Wood Sprites all joined hands,then as one they rose into the sky like startled birds. They raised their hands up to the blue sky and with a pop they disappeared like the popping of a bubble; a few lonely leaves and petals drifting back to earth, the animals turn...
We took off down a path covered softly with moss and tiny pink flowers. Off to the side of the path were endless green trees and pants all nestled together to make one beautiful piece of art. After a while, we reached a sparkling, clear brook. It was about twelve feet deep and nearly three feet deep. The path wound right along side the water. Down the brook a ways, we came to a deep water hole where the fish danced in the swirling current. I noticed the brook was beginning to flow a little faster now, and I could hear the steady, rushing noise of the water falling over the cliffs that lied ahead. We walked to the cliff's edge to look over at the crystal clear lagoon that lay below us. The falls dropped about thirty feet down before it met the pool of water below. To the sides of the waterfall were moss-covered rocks, ferns and other green plants, growing from the crevices of the cliffs.
I turned off the car and took a deep breath. Looking slowly up into the pink sky, I began to watch the golden sun go to sleep. The beach seemed deserted, quiet, but peaceful. I opened my door and put my feet out on the soft sand. I started taking my shoes off, then my socks. I threw them in the passenger seat, and then shut the door. I looked out over horizon of the lake and started walking towards the still water. With each step I took, I could feel the warm sand crunch between my toes. Then suddenly, a sharp rock, but not sharp enough to break the skin.
White puffy clouds, in a big blue sky. So, now that I knew what the beautiful color was, I went back in the wondrous memory. As I was enjoying the bright blue sky, there was a crash, and screech noise, so loud, shrieking, piercing my ears. Oh, the pain there was, objects moving everywhere, I didn’t know where to look.
The dull light of the sun somehow manages to kindle my senses in a way I had never seen or felt before. Everything felt like it came to a standstill and the effect of the light made the scene look like one in a painting. The waves break gently into white foam on the black beach. The small crystals in the sand glimmer and twinkle brilliantly against the sunrays. The seagulls ride with the wind and the soft sand cushions my toes.
Nature is full of many awe-inspiring things, from majestic mountains to carpets of flowers. There is much artistic creativity inspired by nature, but it is often of valleys, and streams. Rarely do we see the smaller pieces that make up such grand pictures. There are few people who appreciate the beauty of a single leaf, or a single drop of water. It is even rarer to find a person who finds beauty in a rock. For most people rocks are only beautiful if polished up and set in gold or silver. I am certainly no exception, however, I am often intrigued by the lower class of rocks. It takes a child, or an adult in touch with their inner child, to find the potential of the average, dirt covered rock. Through the eyes of a child, each rock takes on a personality, be it a country cousin or a snooty countess. Come through the eyes of a child and experience the beauty and majesty of a rock, from the simple stone to the classy diamond.
It is breathtaking. From here I can see the sprawling landscape of the thickly forested valley. I see the clear brook that babbles through the barren path it has eroded and sparkles in the sunlight, the stones lying within are rounded and
The wind slithered like a serpent through the forest and across the lake. Nibbling at my nose, caressing my cheeks. Waves calmly lap again the canons of the pontoon. We stood all four off us on a pontoon the size of a kitchen table, ancient foam exposed mold creeping its way across the carpet. We stand patiently jigging our lines through the way how to capture the beast that lie beneath the calm surface of the loch. The water both clear and black descends for what looks to be miles in reality mere dozens of feet, vibrant algae and water flora ascend up from the depths giving the water a lively glow in stark contrast to the water itself.
Just before the water brushed our toes, we sprinted back, to where the sand was hot and dry, untouched by the cool water. We sat back down on the beach the grainy sand, cold from the autumn breeze pressed up against our legs. Savannah began to gather up the damp sand in her little hands, and I noticed how each grain slightly varied in colour, I saw the speckles of sand being pushed under her sparkly pink fingernails, and I watched as the sand slipped between her fingers, falling softly and slowly like light rain. As each grain hit the ground I could hear a soft sound like a waterfall in the distance and I watched as the other speckles scampered away, as if they were alive. She piled the sand into a mound, grabbing one handful after another.
It was the summer of 2015 in July. My family had decided to travel to the golden state of California. We were there for one week and on the second to last day before we had to fly back to the dull, but familiar Spokane Washington, we decided to visit the famous Huntington beach of Orange Country. I had heard of this beach but I had never previously been.
It’s a beautiful morning, as my group of friends and I wake up, we hear the pounding and the thrashing of the water slamming on the moss covered granite rock, I go down the eroded leaf covered pathway to fetch water just like I would do every morning, the sun had just begun to rise, the mixture of scarlet red, orange, and a bleach-like yellow beaming against the hurried water of the river that led into the waterfall shone like flakes of gold floating on top of the whitening water. The serene environment of the surrounding rocks overlooking the waterfall, the ambience of water clashing against the granite, and the aroma of the white pine filling the forest is an awe inspiring experience to all who dare make their way down the narrow and lengthy
I use any excuse to walk along the ocean, especially alone and without my phone. The wind blew cold air, but the sun’s warm rays kept my body at a perfect temperature. It was three in the afternoon and I was calm.
A slow red sphere, pulsating with light and energy, rose across the hazy horizon; feeding the once dark and bleak island with colours, sound, and life. It was like an artist’s canvass slowly coming to life, as splashed the surface with colours and hues, and carefully put together his masterpiece. The island suddenly lit up as if someone had suddenly twisted the brightness knob on a television set, and flicked on the volume. The dark and mysterious trees and plants suddenly lit up with radiant joy, and I saw the finer detail of my surroundings in the brightness of the morning sun. As I got up I saw a multitude of ants scurrying about on the dark gnarled root, I gazed deeper into the ants world, staring in fascination at the various dark smudges, running across the root like farmers on a newly ploughed field. The black smudges crawled across the root, sometimes stopping as they came into contact with another ant waved their antennas about in joy to each other, and sometimes picking up a crumb in joy and sprinting back to the colony ecstatic with excitement. The crescendo of sound slowl...