Your Questions About Gardening

good entrance essay? please be honest? easy 10 points?

It’s some question about what personality traits i have that could positively contribute to the college’s environment?

Caroline Zegatasky was born in Carbondale, Pennsylvania in 1948. She was a devoted wife, daughter, crossing guard, Roman Catholic, and homemaker. My parents met Caroline when they moved into the home neighboring hers the year before I was born. After I was born, my mother tried desperately to find someone to look after me when she returned to work because she wasn’t entirely comfortable leaving me at a day care center. Eventually, her searches lead her to Caroline. Caroline had always been unable to have a child due to a medical condition, and was delighted when my mother asked her if she would care for me. Caroline and I would soon become inseparable, and her name would become synonymous with family. She played an important role in my childhood, and I had always thought of her as a second mom, and she of me as the child she would never actually conceive. Unfortunately, she died before I could even imagine the value of the lessons she had taught me. From her, I learned how to work hard without complaint and to highly value education.
On workdays, my mother would walk with me to Caroline’s house in the early mornings. Caroline and I would often spend time gardening. As a child, I would rather pick flowers or play with them than plant them. Caroline disagreed with my priorities and bought mini-gardening tools for me and always encouraged me to help her landscape. After receiving these tools, I would follow her around the garden pulling weeds and watering flowers for hours instead of playing. Eventually, I’d proudly assess the results of my hard work. Then, I would run over to her with a big, overconfident smile on my face only to see she had done much more work than I. From her work oriented values I learned I could always do and be more.
As I got older, I would still come to visit Caroline occasionally, but not nearly as often. After attending the Junior National Young Leader’s Conference, I couldn’t wait to visit and show her how much I had grown and learned. While looking through pictures I had taken during my trip, Caroline admitted she wished she had the same opportunities when she was a child. She regretted her poor, academic performance and wished she could return to high school and get straight A’s, attend college, and become a nurse. She advised me to always value my education above almost everything else.
Today, I have analyzed and am using the lessons Caroline taught me. I try to be gracious, hardworking, and generous; I hope that if she were alive today, she would be filled with pride over my accomplishments and the goals I have for my future. I wish I could thank her for all that she’s given me, and show her how appreciative I am for the impact she made on my life.
should i try to include the name of the school or doesn’t that matter?

10 easy points???i need names 4 a few poems k?

what do you think of these poems? I need some names for them and I’m open to criticism.

1)

When nobody listens,
when nobody cares,
When nobody bothers,
I’ll be there.

2)

Anger is a raging fire,
Consuming all in its sight.
Joy is a string of lights,
Dancing in the night.
Grief is a dark river,
The end, no one can see.
Love is a rich chocolate cake,
Shared by you and me.

3)

I lumbered off to sleep one night,
I closed my eyes and doused the light.
When all was still, I drifted away.
Many things happened in my head as I lay.
I saved the world as a secret agent,
I won first place in a beauty pageant,
I skydived off a flying penguin,
I surfed the waves on a garbage bin,
I acquired super powers,
I watered the garden and fed the flowers,
I slaid a dragon, rode a horse,
Made my way through an obstacle course.
Raced a rhino, wrestled a bear,
Received a blue ribbon in the county fair.
Fed a lion, hit a home run,
Rode to work in a hot dog bun.
Threw a pie in someone’s face,
Had lunch with a monkey in outer space.
Lived in a cave, next to a mule,
Imagine how I felt when I woke up for school.

4)

As I was walking,
A tune played in my head.
I tried to sing it but it didn’t click,
I tried to recite it but it didn’t fit,
So I wrote it down instead.

5)

You say that I’m stupid,
And never fit in,
You say that I’m weird,
And act like it’s a sin.
You say that I’m fat,
And my brain weighs a gram,
But I’m unique and special,
And I love me for who I am.

what do you think of these few opening paragraphs?

So, I’m beginning a story about art and magic set during the renaissance in Europe. I wanted to know what you thought of this opening, whether it is too slow, or too wordy. Thank you!

The most brilliant man in the world had a habit of stroking his lanky, graying beard when he stood in thought. One might think that the colorless, old hair would fall out from such excessive tugging. A spectator would likely affirm that the man kept his hand at his chin for many hours at a time, but there were never any people around to make such observations. The man was always alone in his garden, and he did not notice his beard-stroaking habits. When Daxton Tabbart stood thinking, he focused only on the visions in his mind and the blank canvas before him.

He could have painted a number of things. The flowers in the garden, for example, might have made for a lovely work of art. Daxton had planted lillys, daffodils, poppys, and petunias. They were brightly colored and skillfully arranged so that each simple flower complemented the ones around it while still magnifying its own beauty. And at this time of day, with the sun blazing directly overhead, tidy, little shadows were located directly beneath each petal. Bumblebees could be added to the painting too, if they could keep from stinging the painter.

Daxton, however, was not in the mood to paint flowers.

He had the option of painting a self portrait as well. The water in the pond was still enough for him to see his own face perfectly reflected, and he had already mixed the paints appropriate to produce the perfect shade of greenish-gray to use while making his eyes. Also, in weather that was so pleasant, it might have been easy to capture his smile.

Daxton, however, was not in the mood to paint faces.

So Daxton stood, his eyes and mind fixed on the canvas, and his fingers combing through his beard, for an unknown amount of time.