Humans understood that something unusual was happening. No one thought that nightfall had truly come. But the brute creation, the various farm animals, and their wild cousins, behaved as though the day, but so shortly before begun, had come already to its premature close. Cows returned for their evening milking, chickens sought their roosts, and dogs, sensitive to the concern and fright that their masters so obviously felt, cowered at the doorsteps of houses, seeking whatever comfort their terrified owners could give them. The birds of the air vacated the skies and sought their nests; frogs began their evening serenade, as all nature welcomed the end of a day that only to human minds had not really
I jumped out of my bed, rushed to the window and took a very deep breath. The morning air was full of special fragrant. I could not understand that scent; just remember that it was quite special. Now I know that it was a scent of freedom. It seemed like I could see all the molecules that were dancing in the rays of the sun as a little cartoon bulbs: very light and happy.
When first approaching this work, one feels immediately attracted to its sense of wonder and awe. The bright colors used in the sun draws a viewer in, but the astonishment, fascination, and emotion depicted in the expression on the young woman keeps them intrigued in the painting. It reaches out to those who have worked hard in their life and who look forward to a better future. Even a small event such as a song of a lark gives them hope that there will be a better tomorrow, a thought that can be seen though the countenance by this girl. Although just a collection of oils on a canvas, she is someone who reaches out to people and inspires them to appreciate the small things that, even if only for a short moment, can make the road ahead seem brighter.
Like Achilles, everything has a major weakness. In this case we are talking about an quasi linear convective system. Everything has a weakness, you see. An quasi linear convective system is an system thunderstorm lines. Within the quasi linear convective system, there is an supercell hidden. An supercell is an thunderstorm with an large, rotating mesocyclone. This could cause tornadoes to form, but it is not the only way a tornado could form. An mesocyclone is an large rotating updraft, detected by doppler radars. Because there is an supercell, there is a 30% chance a tornado could be formed. You may be thinking, so what? Well, actually, here's the twist: some tornados inside cannot be tracked. This is even more dangerous, because people cannot be warned. Also,
The sun shone brightly as I stared off into the distant grass, swaying unrelentingly as the winds lashed upon it. But within the silky surface of the monotonous sea of green, I spotted an interruption – a staccato in the melody of the breeze. From afar, I could see only see a vague outline, but I knew it was approaching me, mindlessly yet fervently as if I were a light and it were a bug.
"Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had greatly lessened, when I began to distinguish my sensations from each other. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with drink, and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delighted when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe, with greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me, and the boundaries of the radient roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I tried to imitate the pleasant sounds of the birds, but was unable. Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me back into silence."
I was encircled by the scenery of the miraculously beautiful rainbow. Colors of all shades struck out to me. It was like an artist painted perfection in the sky. To my right, were sky scraping palm trees! The leaves were so fresh looking and an illuminating color of green. It was a perfect area of shade to relax and drift into my own world. The scenery was so calm that not a cloud obscured the deep serene .Additionally, the sounds of the rhythmic pounding of the waves repressed all of my worries. As I closed my eyes to listen to the pure sounds, I felt the breeze gliding across my skin. It was such an amazing feeling; it gave me chills. It was a stunning thing to experience. I was truly in
This morning I wake early from the light that creeps underneath my blinds and my bed next to the window. I wake floating on the streams of light, heated, like white wax spilled across the floor, dripping, soft. In bare feet I walk down the stairs, cold on the wood, and find my father in the kitchen, also awake early. Together, we leave the house, the house that my parents built with windows like walls, windows that show the water on either side of the island. We close the door quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. We walk down the pine-needle path, through the arch of trees, the steep wooden steps to the dock nestled in the sea-weed covered rocks. We sit silently on the bench, watch as the fog evaporates from the clear water. The trees and water are a painting in muted colors, silver and grays and greenish blue, hazy white above the trees.
What do you feel when you see a sunset? Warm, happy, amazed, awe-inspired? The sun rose yesterday, and will again tomorrow, and will again the day after that, it’s not as if the sunrise is a miraculous event, yet the emotions are visceral. It’s beautiful, and this strikes a deep, primal chord inside. John Berger attempts to unravel this mysterious attraction to beauty in his essay, “The White Bird”. The white bird in question is a small, wooden carving of a white bird, hung in the kitchens of certain cultures that experience long winters, such as the Haute Savoie region in France. According to Berger, the birds are an attempt to hold onto the fleeting beauty of nature, and a reminder of the spring to come. “Nature is energy and struggle. It
Closer and closer to the calm water, I began sinking deeper in the sand. It was comforting, the silence, tranquility, and warmth of the faint sun. There is a slight breeze, warm, but cold and lonely. I could smell the scent of fish blowing through my hair and body. The sun was still fading, slowly but surely the day was almost over. About half of it is gone now. I could see shades of blue, red, purple, and pinkish-yellow. They were mixed with puffy clouds that lined the beginning of the sky and the end of the water. I noticed the darker shades on the bottom of the lower clouds.
I use any excuse to walk along the ocean, especially alone and without my phone. The wind blew cold air, but the sun’s warm rays kept my body at a perfect temperature. It was three in the afternoon and I was calm.
Ever since Sunset Beach has been officially opened to the public, there has been a drastic increase of tourists present. Television programs concluded that at least a thousand people visit the beach everyday. Reasons for their stay are that they feel comfortable with the environment that surrounds the beach front, people who are at the beach are joyous and numerous activities to enjoy, and the fresh scent of the sparkly waters, make the visitors feel calm and pleasurable. So I decided to take a trip there.
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
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; ...
It is also possible to sense some dissolution in the Moonlight. The portrait indicates a nocturnal landscape that somehow completes a part of the chronicle from his personal life and struggle. It is also easy to relate the portrait to the artist’s personal struggle with the coherence of the landscape, with main focus being the artist’s sense of crisis that subjectively attempted to explain his disenchanted history.