Final Drafts: Descriptive Essay Assignment
Post your final drafts here. Note that it is not a requirement, but I encourage you to share your writing with your classmates.
Here is a link to my fifth draft of "Hiking with John." I changed the title back as "A Chance Encounter" felt cliched.
6 comments:
Smiling Pumpkin
I’ve never thought picking pumpkins from the field would be a big deal until I moved to Vancouver with my family. It turned out to be the second significant event between my son, daughter and me, just inferior to Christmas.
That happened two days before my kids’ first Halloween in Vancouver. The teacher in the kindergarten urged that it would be meaningful to pick up pumpkins instead of purchasing in a market. As an involved parent as I am, there was no hesitation for me to package their rainproof coats, boots and plastic bags for pumpkins.
The famous rainy season of Vancouver gave our trip a big challenge. The air was chilly and there might be a storm according to weather forecasting from News 1130 radio. After joining other children and getting the map to our destination--a noted farm-- from the teacher, we were halted by an abrupt pour. The kids were roared and became impatient. Fortunately the rain only lasted about ten minutes and the sky magically showed us a clear, pleasant face. Over a dozen cars started heading over to the Aldor Anderson Farm at 24990-84th Avenue in Langly.
“What does the farm look like? Can I get a smiling pumpkin there?” My son and daughter kept asking me.
“You will see as soon as we get there.” I replied.
It started to rain again. After about half an hour’s drive, we finally arrived at the farm. In spite of the drizzle outside, all the kids were rushing towards the wooden gate of the farm; mine were among the front. The farm looked very delicate and quiet. Its newly-painted shipshape fences stood like guards. The green grass mixed with mist smelled fresh. There were three mini parts of the farm: the petting zoo, the meadow maze and the pumpkin patch. In the petting zoo, my son was timidly touching a baby bull in abdomen and my daughter was feeding a goat with grass. It’s always so much fun for me to see kids close to nature.
The rain was getting harder and the paths were muddy. Some kids were covered in mud. One of them had to take his glasses off because he couldn’t see through them anymore. My son asked me if he could roll in the mud. I said: “Sure only if you don’t mind walking home by yourself.”
There was a rest stop between the petting zoo and the rest parts which was made of piles of hay. An employee gathered all the visitors and taught the kids some fundamental information about squash and showed us a variety shape of them. Amazingly this was my first time to see a square squash!
Due to the rain and muddy road, the owner of the farm friendly offered a truck to transit us through the meadow maze directly to the pumpkin patch in order to make sure that we wouldn’t get lost in the stunning maze. I had a great chat with the driver, a kind Caucasian man.
After a while, the final joyful place was in front of us. In the field there were countless pumpkins piling on the ground, or hiding behind the bushes. It really surprised me. I had never seen my son and daughter behaving like that in my life. There were a couple of hundreds, I meant literally, and they were so hilarious that seemed want to touch every one of them. They picked one, and then dropped it instantly because they saw another seemingly ideal one. They fell on the mud millions of times and stood up and continued finding their perfect ones. They were screaming, laughing, and enjoying. They completely ignored me and shuttled in the patch like two happy mice. In the end my son picked out one of the ugliest pumpkins which even shriveled in the middle; my daughter grasped tightly the short stem of an oval-shaped, half yellow and half green pumpkin.
On the way back to the gate, my son and daughter glued with their friends by comparing their harvests and sharing their experience. I was left far behind, holding their two bags of fruits, which were obviously too heavy for them to carry. However, I couldn’t be happier. This cool activity really brought so much fun to my kids, as well as me.
When we got back to home, I carved the smiling faces respectively on my son and daughter’s pumpkins. They both promised me that they would keep to next year. They wanted the “smiling face” to smile at them every single day.
Undoubtedly we will do it again next year and every year. There is no way that I could ever possibly reject that smiling face on the pumpkin.
The Campground Hunting
Since the early childhood I have always loved the summer holidays season. I spent many summers on a various campsites spread along the Baltic Sea Cost in Poland together with my family. After a while we started to treat this event as our annual ritual.
When I came to Canada for the first time during the summer of 2006 – I was visiting my husband, Thomas – I had a wonderful time getting to know the province and new people, but I could not resist the inner voice reminding me: “It is time to go camping!”
I figured out it will be a great idea to continue the camping ritual, so I spoke with Thomas about it. He agreed.
For our destination we chose the Ucluelet on the Vancouver Island. We packed a tent and other camping necessities and early in the morning we set off to catch the first ferry to the Island. Well, we missed it, but got on the board of the next one. The day was very sunny. We enjoyed the extraordinary view; giant mountains in the distance showing their white peaks, ocean water rippling and splashing as the ferry moved forward. Amazing! It was wonderful to feel the wind blowing in our faces and to see our hair dancing above our heads.
We finally reached the land, but it took us few more hours of driving to get to the city we wanted to stay in. I have to say it was not the brightness idea to not to book a place on any campground, for it was a long-weekend! We traveled from one corner to another, but every spot was already taken. Long hours in a car in addition to the hot summer sun were simply exhausting. Nothing so far went exactly how I imagined, but I tried to stay calm.
Finally, we had just two more places left to check. We had to take the gravel road to get to the first one, but our little sedan could not make it. Moreover, on our way back through the forest a small bear appeared suddenly in front of our car. I held my breath and did not say a word. The fact we were in a car did not make me feel safer at all. The only thought in my mind: “Where is his mom?” Luckily, the baby-bear did not bother us and went back to the forest. We simultaneously sigh with relief, looked at each other, smiled, and moved forward.
It was already afternoon and the last campground to check. We found it quite fast and to our surprise there was an empty spot we could take. It was free only for a one night, but we did not worry. At least we could get out of the car and enjoy the residue of the day. As soon as we pitched the tent and took the mattress out, another problem occurred.
“Honey, where did you put the pump?”
“I thought you packed it…”
Needless to say more, we started to fill the mattress with air using our lungs. Very time-consuming!
The sun started to disappear when we finished unpacking and could finally relax and have something to eat. We were starving!
We took a walk to see the ocean. It was so peaceful. The crystal-clear water was sparkling in golden rays of the setting sun. The fresh breeze was filling our washed-out bodies making us feel so blissful. It started getting dark, so we headed back to our campground. It took us minutes to fall asleep. Our bodies were demanding a few hours of well-deserved rest!
The first thought in my mind after I opened my eyes was to go home. Go home now. I could feel pain in every single bone of my body. There was not enough air in the mattress so we did not sleep well. It was almost like lying on a bare ground covered with rocks and roots.
“Can we go home, please?” I whispered to my husband. He looked at me with eyes full of pity.
“ I thought you will never ask.”
We did not say much more that day. We simply dreamed of a good sleep in our cozy bed. Our first summer trip did not last long and was not the greatest one, but even today we can not stop smiling when we talk about the events of the summer of 2006.
What is more, it did not forbear us from continuing our ritual and we went on camping the following year. Although that time, we planned our expedition more carefully and booked in advance a place we stayed in. Just in case.
(778 words)
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Unforgettable New Years’ Eve
During 18 years, I celebrated new years’ like Colombian people do. New years’ is our big event, and we spend a lot of time arranging every single detail. One of my favorite new years’ was back in 1999. All my family was reunited, and we were ready for the coming millennium; we were expecting so much fun that night.
My aunt’s house – where we celebrated the party- was beautifully decorated; it had red and gold balls around. We had a huge Christmas tree with yellow and red lights on top, and a “pesebre” (small representation of Jesus’ birth) in the living room. We usually keep Christmas decorations until January 6th , that is why we still had all of these things.
We arrived at 6 pm. The house was quiet, but I could see the table full of many Colombian dishes, salads and tropical fruits. In the middle, we had a big and delicious turkey; it had a “tartara” sauce on top. On each side, we had grapes, oranges and mandarins; they look very juicy and fresh. Half of the family had not arrived yet, but I really wanted to try a little piece of the chocolate cake on the right corner of the glass table.
“No, no! What are you doing?”, my Mom asked
“I’m just checking the cake temperature” I said, while sticking my finger into the cake.
Then all my family started laughing but, I still could not understand why they were laughing. I thought it was a pretty good excuse – keeping in mind I was 10 years old-, and now I could try the little piece of chocolate on my finger. However, right before I could try the little piece…
“Hey you!!! Get your hands washed” my Mom said while grabbing my hand right away from my open mouth. Of course she did wash my hands; therefore, I sit back in the sofa completely frustrated.
The rest of the family got there around 7:30, and everything was ready for us to have a blast. We had video games and so many toys. The food was smelling really good, and I kept the chocolate cake in sight. Of course, my mom did as well.
Soon, 10 pm came and we were all excited about the coming year. We – the kids- were talking of scary stories about the coming millennium, like the end of the world or crazy computers and robots. Adults were talking and laughing very loud. We were all very happy spending our time together.
It was 11:59, and we started to count down the seconds (like we usually do), but this time was more exciting than before. 5.4.3.2.1… yeah! We hugged each other, prayed and wished the best for our families. Each one of us ate 12 big, juicy grapes, where each grape represents one month of the year, and for each month we had to make a secret wish. At 12;30, we ate dinner and it was delicious. After the cultural and religious ritual, we started the real Colombian ritual: loud music and crazy dancing until the next morning. My brother, cousins and I were very entertained playing games until 3:00 am. We had a blast, and I won three soccer matches in play station II – which is very unusual -.
After, we went out to watch fireworks and enjoy the first bright night of the millennium. By the time we came back, I was as hungry as a hunting lion, and I remembered the chocolate cake. I ran to the living room, and I found no more than a bare glass table with a red candle on top. I desperately looked for my mom.
“Mommy, where is the chocolate cake?” I asked, totally breathless and helpless.
“Should be in the kitchen” She answered
I ran to the kitchen and I found an empty plate that looked as it had a sweet chocolate cake on top. Then, my mom came behind me with a cup of ice cream in her hand.
“This might be good as well, I bet.” She said
Totally frustrated, I took the cup from her hands and started eating. Yes! It was vanilla ice cream with chocolate brownie. Yummy!! It was very soft and sweet; I loved it.
That New Years’ was the best I ever had. I watched fire works, won three soccer matches in play station II, and got a super deal with my vanilla ice cream. My family was together and everything was so perfect. I Definitely had a blast.
760 words
CATALINA PARRA 46083
A Nightly Appointment
Every night at ten o’clock the house shuts down. Lights are blackened as the fire blazes, the strong smell of bergamot swallows up the air in each delightful inhale and the familiar sound of show tunes rings into the ear. “Will & Grace” has begun. The couch becomes Goliath’s pillow and the London Fog a creamy relaxant to soothe the soul from the lingering heaviness of hard work. The cares and worries of the day are gently cleansed from the mind and the ease of entering into another world slowly weighs in. I unwind in warm sweats and allow my eyes to settle into a lazy state. Here nothing bothers me. It is only me, alone and quiet. It is a wonderland I look forward to every night. No regrets or mishaps can reach me, no shoulda-woulda-coulda statements can find me. The only thing allowed into my mental state is the enjoyment of my surroundings.
“3CPO wasn’t gay, he was British.” Will smirked. I thought to myself, I’ve heard that expression, just different first name…
For some reason the black humor and the cynicism of the show appeals greatly to my nature. It is either a result of too many British Mysteries, too many Mel Brooks films, or the standpoint I have chosen to take in life. But whichever it may be it doesn’t take away from my laughter.
So I sit for thirty minutes concealed behind an invisible wall, eyes fixed on the shadowed television screen never minding the collective dust wedged in the corners. The voices are like rhythmic pitter patter of passersby, easy to follow but somewhat pretentious. By the time a second commercial break chimes in the drink is gone and it’s time for another. I drag my feet on the hard wood to the kitchen snatching at this and that to drop into the mug. At the very sound of “You need to find a better hobby than outing robots”, I know it’s time to mosey-on back to my seat.The phone is a rambling organ and like every other night I always forget to turn it off. So if I can lean over forty degrees mid amble my right hand usually finds the rough chord which I give a firm yank to ensure no more calls.
It’s not that the enjoyment of the show alone was so important. It was that the enjoyments of things simultaneously were important. The quietness, the stillness, the freedom and the attitude made it all worth while. I was being good to myself-it was being good to me.
This particular night I was terribly exhausted. It seemed as though I could see every particle of air assembling itself through the room. I sat thinking of other things, things I couldn’t remember and would be better off forgotten, things that could not be said as specifics but were sorting themselves out in my subconscious.
I believe that’s when Grace said something about cupcakes -my full attention was immediately grabbed at the thought of pink icing- as I adjusted my eyes toward the screen. For some reason it was not a good thing my focus had been shifted for now it put me in a far more critical mood. Something to do with those shoes would never match that belt. To be honest I really can’t remember. It was one of those nights where so much is going on but not with the brightest light in the world could you find out what it was. Maybe poor set lighting and a few overused jokes as well as watching far too many reruns was finally putting me in the mood for some Gravol. Or perhaps with the constant interruptions of the day I was expecting an interruption in my own sanctuary. Like the pulse of my routines had been broken and I couldn’t find a spot to mend them back.
I was beginning to feel uneasy. Was I finally too tired to enjoy the bitter ranting and raving of paid actors?
Things were beginning to look grainy and uneven. The London Fog no longer satisfied the thirst. The comedy of the television couldn’t make me chuckle. The sound of the voices and interlude seemed to scratch against the quietness of the night. The warmth of the tea through the glass tickled my fingers senses. It was time to go to sleep. With a push of a button and a final sigh I was on my way to bed.
731 words
A Profound Tradition
During my childhood I started my first ritual, “Day of the dead” (dia de los muertos),a traditional holiday where Mexicans demonstrate a tribute to dead. Hence, it is a time when families remember a relative who passed away, and the continuity of their life. The celebration consists to go to the cemetery on the first or second day of November. Wash and clean the grave, cut the grass and
paint it. Then, put colourful flowers with aromatic candles and finalize with a pray for their souls.
I remember clearly my first year I begin to celebrate, I was so thrill, but when I find out that I have to go to the cemetery to wash the grave of my grandfather; I was terrified with the task, so I refused to do it. I though “Why I may need to go to see dead people?”; “Is my mom being crazy?” Subsequently, my mom explain to me, “don’t be afraid, it should be an honour to remember your grandfather” because one day your kids will have to do it for you, and the tradition will pass to other generations.
In addition, I realized we were not the only family who would visit the cemetery around those days. At school, all my classmates will prepare weeks ahead before the big day. I guess, it was like having a piñata with balloons. They were so content to celebrate the day of the dead. But not me, although I told my mom that I will try to put my best effort to learn this ritual extremely well. I did really want her to be proud of me even thought I dislike the idea of being around dead people.
After all, I begin my journey and learn how to decorate an altar inside of my great grandmother, we
used to light aromatic candles, cutting boxes, and put the favourite food and drinks such as fresh bread,desserts, and milk wherever food our relatives used to eat when they were alive. The purpose was to believe that during the night the souls will show up and eat the food -hard to believe when my grandmother mentioned to me-. But I guess I did not have any choice except to believe, she was the expert.
The next year, my grand mom assigned me to be the person in charge to do the ofrendas (offerings) an arrangement with marigolds (zempasuchitl) which is the traditional flower of the dead. It was an annoying task to do. I hated the strong aroma coming out the flower, and everyone knew in the family
how much I dislike the smell, so my cousins used to make fun of me every year. So, the next year I
decided to play dupe, and I pretended to be sick.
I told my grandmother, that I couldn’t be touching the water because I had a sore throat, and I was coughing. Then, my grandmother ask my cousin Jesus to help me out with the ofrendas because I was
sick. It was obvious through his grinned face he did not want to help me. He told my grandmother “I
don’t want to help Claudia “because it is a job for girls. A huge mistake from my cousin, he never should not say anything.
Suddenly, my grandmother grab him from his ear and place him next to me, immediately she order him
to cut all the stems from the flowers, and told him to follow my instructions in how to make an ofrenda. Otherwise he would be grounded for the rest of the week. That was a serious issue because that could it mean not to celebrate with his friends the traditional dance in our town. Also, he was not going to be
able to see his girlfriend on the weekend, so he had no other choice except to help me, and contribute
to make the offerings.
Hours later I started to touch the water, and to cut the stems of the flowers, so he asked me:
“I thought you were sick “
“No, really “ I replied.
But if you continue laughing about me, every time I had to make the ofrendas, I may become sick again
for the next several years. My cousin’s face started getting red, like he wanted to kill me, yet I guess he was so angry at me, but he kept his mouth quiet for the rest of the day. After, the year he started to respect me more, and never laugh about me. I know my cousin now understands why we have
a day of dead.
(770 words)
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