While reading this, you would most likely expect me to be in a garden full of rare horticulture in an exotic locale- but I am right at home. Inside, I hear the sound of the television blaring through the windows, people scurrying in and out, and noise drowning out all the rest of the surroundings.
Though there is nothing special about my garden; the usual trees and flowers, with some animals too, but it is meaningful to me. When work gets stressful or I just need a break from the roller coaster ride that is life, it is just a few steps to paradise. My bare feet touch the cold tiles as my fingers run along the hibiscus flowers and my eyes are treated to a feast of colors and sights. It stimulates all my senses- my eyes do not know what to look at first, I can smell the fresh air, I hear the leaves rustling against each other and the sounds of the small creatures that dwell amongst the plants, I feel the texture of the flowers, plants, and even the dirt, and I can taste the freshness of the morning dew.
My garden is laden with many flowers- roses, hibiscus, and even the purple flowers that smell really good, it bears fruit- bananas to be exact, is bubbling with life- it may be my house but I share it with squirrels, kingfishers, and sometimes even monitor lizards without even knowing it. I make my way towards the fishes to see how they are doing; red, blue, and gold hidden underneath the layers of water plants. Even though it is just a pot with some water in it, life can flourish in the most unexpected of places.
I see the silver wire swing and sit on it, concentrating on the bumble bee buzzing around the flower, looking for honey.
As night falls, it is a completely different place- everything is transformed into something mysterious and exotic- even a common houseplant. There are hardly any sounds except maybe the occasional lost car zooming past the road outside. The moonlight glistens over the roofs of houses and the tallest of trees; it leaves a surreal silver blanket across all that cross its path. Most creatures are asleep, except for the few who come alive during the night.
The croaks of the frog, the chirping of the crickets, and the rare purring of the cat fill the air with the rustling of the leaves and the sound of the wind blowing against everything in its way. Sometimes silent whispers from the neighboring houses and the crying of some baby who cannot fall asleep can be heard.
Category: Free Descriptive Observation Essay; Title: Flowers and Fairytale. Flowers are the most beautiful creation of God. Their sight is a joy forever. They are a subject of poetry and no Natural description is complete without reference.
I feel a cool breeze run across my face as I look up at the sky, with the moon wrapped in clouds. There are many muted stars in the vast sky above, but there is only one lone star, bright as gold. Previous Faux Real?
Mary was She had long red hair which she tied up in a band. She was very bossy and tried to get her own way. Mary was 15 and she wanted to do well.
She had long red hair. Sandra passed her National 5 exam. Sandra sailed through her National 5 exam. Sandra did well in her National 5 exam but she didn't work very hard for it. Zoe had blonde shoulder length hair and blue eyes.
She wore a gold chain and a tight blue dress. She had blue leather shoes and carried a briefcase. Zoe was smart and efficient in a stylish way. Zoe was 25 years old. She was originally born in Perth but moved to Dundee.
Her father used to run a printing business. During the whole of a dull, dark and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
I spend a whole day travelling slowly on horseback. The countryside through which I passed was empty of any interesting features. For much of the time it seemed about to rain. Eventually, when it was getting dark, I could see the House of Usher ahead of me. During the whole of a dull, quiet day in the summer of the year, when the sun smiled down on me from the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a pleasant stretch of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
John Reed was a schoolboy of 14 years old - four years older than I. He was large and stout for his age. John Reed gorged himself habitually at table, which gave him dim and bleary eyes, flabby cheeks and dingy, unwholesome skin. John Reed was a 14 year old schoolboy who was looked a mess because he kept stuffing his face every mealtime.