A cool breeze passed my shoulder. In the instant, it felt chilly. The neighborhood was silent and it felt so very empty. Usually on a Saturday afternoon there would be kids playing outside. The sun was glistening on the trees. Winds blowing once every three to five minutes. Trees and plants will shiver as the wind hits them. Leaves would flip in all directions showing the faded bottoms of the leaves.
The glimpse of sunlight hit my eyes. I looked away. In the center was the peach tree fluttering. A memory of my childhood came sifting through-my cousin, brothers, and I would always go play around the peach trees in my grandma's backyard. We would use long bamboo sticks to jab the peaches from the trees. Other times we would around and use them as weapons to attack each other. The branches are thin and rough with bumps and leaves flipping as the breeze of cold air passed by. The leaves are three times longer than wide and broadest below the middle. There were many peaches from greenish yellow to wine red. The peaches were
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average size, and very fuzzy. Many were rotting on the ground, dark, wrinkled, and some were dry. Pits like maze were everywhere on ground I step on a peach. It felt squishy and clear liquid gush out. The scent of the peach was luscious and pungent. As I glance to the ground, I see so many different varieties of rock. Ugly looking ones, to beautiful, and round one. The ugly rocks appear to have tiny crack and spots on them. Smaller ones are smooth, and shiny. When I pick up the rock from the ground, it felt smooth, but rough on the side of the rock. At the end of the chain link fences was a large shrub about 1 meter tall. The pom-pom flowers look like a cluster of teal butterflies. As I take a closer look, there were a combination of two colors lavender and navy blue. Hydrangea lacecap flowers have a ombre feel to it. The leaves are thick and crisp. In some way shiny and heart shaped. Their edges are coarsely toothed. Half of them are blooming while the other half is drying up and dying. Maybe because it’s autumn. But I find it rare that some new lacecap flowers are blooming. In a sudden, it felt like spring again, with the sun gleaming down and cool breeze sifting past. Memory came rushing in. The rustle of leaves caught my attention.
I could faintly hear the crashing of the leaves. They are everywhere; flying in the air and all over the cement ground. The leaves were dry and crisp. Brownish orange leaves all pile up on the side of the chain link fence. That selfish tree just never seem to stop shedding leaves. Blob of syrups from the selfish tree would drool and drop on our car. Since the tree is next to our parking space, our van was always covered in wax textured syrups. The top of our van looks like seagulls or birds has been popping on it. The syrups on the tree are light yellow and crystal like when they're not dry. They were flowing down the tree and seem to be coming from the tree branch that broke. It felt sticky and has an strong pine smell to it. By the selfish tree was a bee hole. Once in a while I can see bees flying in and out of it. The bees are yellow with black and white strip. I believe they are yellow jackets
bees. When I started to head toward the house, two shirtless boys rode the bicycle passed. One of them is chubby and sweating very badly. I could see the shiny sweat on his back reflecting the sun. The other one was wearing a dark short. The thud of the bicycle dropping to the ground frightened me. At the moment, I recall the time that I fall off my sister’s bicycle from a steep hill. Those boys must be in so much pain since they rode so hasty. Trees and plants wilt back and forth as the breeze passed. Nature is something that takes time and effort to see the beauty of it. Thirty minutes of observing have taught me so much. I was able to see the inner beauty of nature. Including every little things and movement happening around me. It causes me to realize the importance of nature. I hope that our generation and the next generation will value nature more.
Under the pear tree on that spring afternoon, Janie sees sensuality wherever she looks. "The first tiny bloom had opened. It had called her to come and gaze on a mystery. From barren brown stems to glistening leaf-buds to snowy virginity of bloom. It stirred her tremendously" (10). Gazing across the garden...
I remember the cold wind brushing against my skin, the rustling of leaves and the light footsteps of Laura in the damp grass.
Southern trees bear a strange fruitBlood on the leaves and blood at the rootBlack bodies swingin' in the Southern breezeStrange fruit hangin' from the poplar treesPastoral scene of the gallant SouthThe bulgin' eyes and the twisted mouthScent of magnolias sweet and freshThen the sudden smell of burnin' fleshHere is a fruit for the crows to pluckFor the rain to gather, for the wind to suckFor the sun to rot, for the tree to dropHere is a strange and bitter crop
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. ( This description of the scenery is very happy, usually not how one sees the world after hearing devastating news of her husbands death.)
Once upon a time, there was a tree who lived in a beautiful, beautiful forest and his named was “flowers”. Also known as “bloom” tree. Everyday flowers was alone but one day a little girl came and she said hi and second she said hi flowers said hello the little girl a flower got to know each other but year past by really fast and the little was not so little anymore and the big made real friend so she didn’t have a lot of home to visit flower. So since the big girl does not come anymore flowers started to feel sad and the big girl doesn’t come the more flower loses his happiness and without happiness a bloom tree there is no bloom tree at all. After one year the big girl have not come visit and all the happiness is out of flower and since
Two forlorn leaves cling to the highest branch of a great oak as winter approaches. Nearly all of the others have fallen, and the second leaf wonders if “we know anything about ourselves when we're down there” (Salten 105). Both know that their time on the branch grows short. The first comforts its friend with recollections of warm summer breezes and the promise that many leaves will come after them, and then, still more. The first leaf is troubled itself now, and gently tells her friend to say no more for a while. After several hours of silence, a cold wind gusts, and the second leaf is torn from the branch, just as she began to speak, leaving the first alone in the cold and dark, with no one to comfort or be comforted by (Salten 105-110).
Sometimes the grasshoppers would appear from around a blade of grass as if they were asking for approval to jump on my blanket. Every so often a leaf would jump off its branch to greet me as I sat. It would float through the air as light as feather and land softly on the grass. As the autumn drew near, it was like a rainstorm of brown, yellow and red leaves, all falling to make way for the beautiful spring leaves.
Peach tree has a narrow lanced-shaped, initially folded lengthways. The flowers of this fruit is deep pale pink, occationally white. They appear just before the leaves, on short stalks. In peach trees their own, in almost trees they are in pears.
During the tree days I ate nothing it made me cut my wrist and drank my blood I don’t know too much about what it did but I do know this much: on the first night it got bored the blood gushing out of my forearms weren’t enough to entertain it. It walked outside; I knew where it was going Eat Woods. East Woods was usually the place killers would hunt, sometimes a teen or young adult would go there to muck around. The ghostly howls, dark path and dead nature could be seen for miles. There was no green leaf to be found, animal bones and rats were
For most people the fruit of the peach is a symbol for southern United States, more specifically Atlanta, Georgia. However, in the story “Gaston” by William Saroyan the peach symbolizes many things including home, love, and loss. In the story, a middle classed man takes his biological yet distant daughter out to get peaches
You’re walking down a beautiful southern country road on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The cool breeze lightly kisses your skin as it combats the heat from the blazing sun. You happen upon a tree that seems to be a perfect spot for an afternoon nap, or for a young couple to carve their initials into to mark their love forever. This tree has an enormous amount of positive potential, but instead of seeing these wondrously human sites you see an example of the darkest side of humanity. Green leaves now drip red with the life once held inside the dark skinned carcass which now hangs stretched and pale from a rope. You find yourself horrified that the breeze you were so thankful for moments ago is the only animus left to move him to and fro.
The scientific name of peach is Prunus persica, it belongs to the family Rosaceae(Bassi and Monet 2008:5). Peach has straight and smooth trunk with somewhat reddish to greenish bark in its first year of growth with later becoming dark grey silver (Bassi and Monet 2008:5).This would be a small tree but can reach 8m if not pruned ,the leaves are lanceolate but the size will depend on tree vi...
The setting takes place when people own a large amount of land. It is when the average family consisted of many children, and the children helped the family out. The boys usually tended the land with their father, and the girls were taught to wash clothes and to clean and cook. The setting consists of the same things as did the families of the frontier times.
The tree is very much like a queen, wearing its dress of leaves. I would not reach out and touch it—because it would be rude. At the shoulders of the tree—the branches fork off into three directions. The thick branches hold up more green leaves—the delicate kind—shaping the head of the tree like a mushroom. The tree resembles a green Queen Amadalia—young and bright. When I looked up at her, you see the sunlight reflect off her hair—the leaves—creating a peaceful glow. It blurs everything, however, and I had to stop looking. The wind does blow the leaves, but it is so lightly that you can barely tell. The fountain near by spurts out water in this direction.
The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.