Descriptive Paragraph
It's a wide field. Nothing has touched it, or so it seems. The trees stand in straight lines, bushy sentinels guarding their precious treasure. Clusters of gold daffodils huddle together, nodding their heavy heads sleepily. They seem to be the oldest of the group…towering above the dandelions, looking into their sunny faces. The dandelions peer past them, their cheerful bursts of petals bending around the larger flower. Johnny jump ups and Forget-me-nots hide in the blades of grass, soft blue highlights in an emerald sea. The lilies and the pansies hide near the edge of the field, whispering softly to the trees while they rest in the cool purple shadows. Bunches of fragrant lavender bends on slender stems, laden with the perfumed scent of a sweet summer afternoon. The sun filters past the pristine lilies trumpeting their silent song and rests on marigolds, the silken crimson tips of the petals burning like fire. The baby's breath scatters itself discreetly across the meadow, tenderly kissing the soft blades of grass as it skips along. Roses twist and dance together, an explosion of delicate pinks and dark rubies. The lazy clouds drift along, casting long blue silhouettes of their puffy gladness onto fresh crocuses, their little beaks poking from the moist ground. Together they form a harmonious blend of quiet pastels and brilliant color.
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