Audrey had just arrived to her work at the Carilion Roanoke Memorial Hospital. As she walked into the building, she could feel other people were watching her. Her rust colored bodycon dress fit her short, petite body just right as she elegantly walked through the door. She had her shoulder length, black hair pinned up nicely. She looked perfectly ready to start her day as Dr. Lane.
There were big, Watery Droplets with strikes of lightning hitting the side of my John boat in the Everglades. Our 12 Gauge shotgun was locked and loaded getting ready for Big Mama. Meat hung from the trees, shotgun shells on the floor. We were in our raincoats trying to stay safe and dry from the rain and lighting. We see little gators swimming around ,but we came out here for the one, the only, Big Mama.
“I’ll get the paddleboard on the rocks,” I called up to Mason. He was already halfway up the stone stairs that led up the hill. I leaped up onto the first stair, and bounded up the hill, jumping two stairs with every stride. I was overjoyed to be in Northern Michigan on Long Lake, the largest of the twenty inland lakes in Long Lake Township. My hockey teammate, Mason, had invited me up to his amazing lake house.
Mr. Lawrence Exeter walked into Goose Gander Baby Shoppe he strolled through the isles looking for clothing, toys, and other items for the baby. He felt weird shopping for clothing for a baby not even born yet his wife insisted he go. He brought his hefty cart over to the cashier. The cashier offered him a warm smile and began to ring in his purchases. “The total comes to 148.50$” the cashier stated.
It was a beautiful day for the beautiful game of baseball to be played in the friendly confines of Wrigley Field, Chicago: breezy, sunny, but not a scorching hot, sweat-bead kind of day. Merely six miles south of Wrigley Field, we boarded the CTA purple line el train, along with clusters and clusters of Chicago Cubs fans also getting on each and every rail car from who knows where. But, let me tell you, I was in awe; I have never been with so many true fans who knew, not only baseball, but knew the Cubs! “Who’s ready for the Cubs to crush the Astros!”
Performance Analysis of “Appalachian Journey” An analysis of the documentary “Appalachian Journey” by Alan Lomax proves that the musical performances featured are examples of traditional music. The songs performed used traditional music instruments and styles. Many songs were passed down through oral tradition, and many were stories of real events. The people of the appalachian mountains used banjo’s, guitars, and fiddles while singing throughout the documentary, including hand carved instruments and sound making toys.
On April 15th of 2017 at 1 o’clock P.M., I decided to travel to the Lloyd Noble Center at 2900 S. Jenkins, in Norman, Oklahoma to attend the 103rd annual American Indian Student Association (AISA) Spring Powwow. The weather was great, was about 80˚, partly cloudy with a cool breeze. Walking around trying to find the lady I was supposed to be interviewing, I occasionally would catch the smell of food (popcorn, pretzels, and hot dogs, and Indian Taco’s), as well as, seeing several tables where one can buy hand crafted gifts. I attended this event, because I have always been very intrigued with the history of the Native American people; from the culture, regalia’s and their religion. I met with Shelby Mata the organizer of the event to get a better
So after our visit to Cedar Lake we set off on our way to the badlands. Now this isn't going to be like the kind of story where i talk about our amazing time their and skip all the driving. This is about the trip their and the many of complications but many of miracles. Our trip to the badlands is one of the most inspirational parts of this entire book. Their are many of places and times when God really reveales himself to us and shows us his great mercy.
Another day was so much like the one before, and the many before that. He walked the house and grounds, slowly, letting time pass as it must. Alone, present but not present, for can one truly be there if no one knows of it? Like the saying he’d heard more than once over the unmeasured time of his existence: If a tree falls in the forest but no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? He ambled through the back yard, pausing under the tree from which he’d been hanged, cursing his tormentors, vowing to haunt them for all time.
In the early to the mid eighteenth century, American landscape paintings underwent a revolution from beautiful images of nature to landscapes that were used to articulated beliefs, opinions, and reflect society. Dated to1840, the “On the Ohio River” was painted in the middle of a multi-faceted discussion regarding mankind and nature. In the case of “On the Ohio River”, I argue that with his placement of humans, man-made mechanics, and the color scheme, this artist is discussing main arguments on the relationship between humans and nature and the value of nature. A main element in the artwork is the inclusion of humans integrated into the work.
She forgot about how much she disliked her aunt and how much she hated wearing dresses, and she joined the group of ladies in their conversations. Even though she didn’t want to act like a lady, she went along with it for her aunt. Also,
She knew she wasn’t like anyone else. She approached the boy, just wanting to kiss him like she had saw the other girl do, but things went terribly wrong for her. They saw her (227), and they knew where she went. She was rejected and put to shame once again, when the whole village came after her to burn her home and her life to the ground. She knew it was over at that very
“What a great day for a boat ride,” I thought to myself. It is a cozy warm, shorts and short sleeve shirt day at the time that people are arriving onto the big bulky catamaran. The sky is light blue with some dainty see-through clouds and a slight warm western breeze. I am located on one of the tropical islands of Hawaii, Kauai. The glossy white surface of the boat is blinding because of the reflection from the early evening sun.
Smooth, oval rocks lined the bank of the secretive lake. Discarded and neglected; overlaid with spongy moss and choked by fallen, decaying leaves from the unclothed and withering trees above. As the lake swelled around the ashen boulders, icy, black water lifelessly lapped against the long, thin beams of wood holding up a rickety pier. The structure was covered in splinters and ragged, iron nails, and as it reached out into the centre of the sombre lake, it became more and more distant. Half-cut beams lined the sides of the pier, as nettle patches hissed from the shore when the water drew too near.