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My gardening experience Essay
My gardening experience Essay
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On November 4, 2017, I went to Mrs. Oei’s house to see her backyard garden. We both agreed on viewing her garden since she has a big green thumb and brings the most elaborate flower arrangements to Sunday church. As I approached her front door, I heard the fierce barking of her dog. She opened the door and allowed her dog to smell my mom, the photographer, then we entered her house. Mrs. Oei’s garden was beauty sprouting from every corner of her backyard. First, we observed her lemon, lime, apple, and persimmon trees. Next, we moved on to all the colorful flowers. There were a countless number of flowers, but Mrs. Oei was an expert on identifying them. Half of them I have never heard of. Then, we looked at her pungent smelling herbs and peppers.
the modern garden. She interprets how we have the need to control and create what we consider perfect with our sciences and labs. While rules reign, sanitation demands, and socialization take control of the perfect scene for a pleasant environment, the unpleasant side of these malls such as their trash is kept out of the vision of the consumer. Most of these consumer products that are used to entice the population to enter into this heavenly place on earth became waste that is not entirely recycled
The setting takes place in April at a funeral. There was a “gardenia on the smooth brown wood” (Holczer 1). They have been “wandering across the great state of California” (2). The setting moves to Grace's grandma’s house. It was “two stories with attic windows”, “sky-blue paint with white trim”, “ and a wood porch” (19). There were “two chairs covered in yellowed plastic and pine needles” (19). There was a gently sloped driveway. Inside the house there were “piles of Tupperware and glass dishes” (19). Outside there was a shed, garden, trees, and
...ots her memory, the blossoms her dreams, and the branches her vision. After each unsuccessful marriage, she waits for the springtime pollen to be sprinkled over her life once again. Even after Tea Cake's death, she has a garden of her own to sit and revel in.
Peter Lik is a pioneer in landscape photography and is extremely well known. He has spent over 30 years pushing the boundaries of fine art. He has been shooting scenes of Mother Nature his entire life. Born in Melbourne, Australia to hardworking Czech immigrants, he has always appreciated life's beauty and never taken it for granted. Peter's work can be traced back to the essential moment when at 8 years old he received the gift of a Brownie Kodak camera from his parents. This event set him on a course for destiny. Since his first snapshot of a spider web in his family garden, he has wanted to share with people some of the most beautiful places in the world. One of the biggest growing points in his career was when he took on a massive project
“The front yard had a palm tree, and the backyard had orange trees. I particularly loved the palm, tree…. There were also holy back and oleander bushes with pink and white
“Al Condraj sat on the bench he had made and smelled the parsley garden and didn’t feel humiliated anymore. But nothing could stop him from hating the two men, even though he knew they hadn’t done anything they shouldn’t have done.” (The Parsley Garden, Junior Great Books, Series 6, pg.42)
A theme in W.P. Kinsella’s “The Thrill of the Grass” is change, for better or for worse, affords the opportunity for us to acknowledge our emotions and love of memories and encourages us to stand up for what we truly believe in. Change, sentiment, reminiscence and defiance are portrayed through the protagonist and the plot in this admiringly, well written short story.
How does the vegetation surface type affect the amount of runoff? Speculate why this happens.
All dramatic productions feature the elements of drama. Following a viewing of the scene ‘Someone’s crying’ from the 1993 movie ‘The Secret Garden’ three of the elements of drama have been assessed. Role, character and relationships have been utilised in ‘The Secret Garden’ to create anxiety and suspense, enticing the viewer to solve the mysteries the Secret Garden presents. The protagonist in the scene is a young girl, around the age of ten who during the night leaves her room to explore her residence. The protagonist narrates the scene; she begins by stating that the ‘house seems dead like under a spell’. This makes the viewer anxious and fearful for the safety of our young protagonist. The protagonist is brave. She pushes open a door and
While the ending of Candide was relatively inconclusive, I found it satisfactory as a reader that the author practiced what he preached. Voltaire ridiculed Leibniz for constantly theorizing, never offering solutions. On the contrary, Voltaire debunked Leibniz's theory throughout Candide, and offered a resolution of how to deal with reality; cultivate the garden. To cultivate your own garden put simply is to do what is best for you, through logic and reason, without dwelling philosophically. The advice from the dervish and old man is sound advice, to render life bearable it is wise to work with what you are given, rather than contemplate the purpose behind everything.
Roses are present in the garden, as they are “the only flowers that impress people” (Mansfield 2581). Mrs. Sheridan orders so many lilies that Laura think it must be a mistake, saying “nobody ever ordered so many” (Mansfield 2584). Satterfield says, “the flower imagery throughout the story serves to keep the reader reminded of the delicacy of Laura’s world. The flowers are splendid, beautiful, and-what is not stated- short-lived.” He goes on to say that Laura “can see only the beauty and not the dying of the flower, and she cannot see that, in many ways, she is very much like a flower herself.” The delicate life of the Sheridan’s is one that must come to an end. It is beautiful like the flowers, but also like the flowers, it will eventually die. As Darrohn puts it, “the Sheridans operate under the illusion that their easy life is natural… rather than produced through others’ labor.” This idea too can be illustrated by the flowers in the story. The roses that fill the gardens are the work of the gardeners who have “been up since dawn” (Mansfield 2581). It seems to Laura that “hundreds, yes, literally hundreds [of roses] had come out in a single night… as though visited by archangels” (Mansfield 2581). The reader can see through the flowers that the Sheridans have a rose-colored view of how their lifestyle
...that suspends the boundaries of man and nature, the way in which she structures the last image to be one of hostility indicates the unsustainable nature of the garden.
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.
When I was young, I drew a picture of my mother. It was her standing in a yard with a house in the background. It wasn't our house, and my mother looked like anyone but herself. Dressed entirely in green, with green hair and a green expression on her green face, she stood in front of a green two-story house surrounded by a green landscape. Green was her favorite color, and I wanted to make a surprise out of the drawing for her.
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; ...