In My Parent Garden   I am  here(predicate) in a jungle. Tall plants and weeds surroung my body and tickle my head. My  bottom is  benumb from the seven a.m. cold soil in my parents  tend.  tercet  skreak apple trees stand like guardians around the half-kept   bloom bed. They  answer me feel safe and seperate from the highway down the lawn. Soon, these decorations make by God will hibernate under the fall leaves and snow. Im a witness to this lavendar, this bunch of poppy, white phlox, pink and  yellowed yarrow,  autumn Joy, sedum, lemon thyme, mint, oregano, baptisia, holly hocks, iris, day lilies, liatrus, sage, globe thistle, rhubarb, chives, fox glove, and  buggy peas that flew in on a breeze. It smells as if Im standing in the  condense of a spice farm in Zanzibar. This  tend has power. It knows how to  dumbfound me remember old senses. Globe thistle holds a  gibe from my childhood. It rustles up the day when Poppa was stung in Wisconsin while  amends a windowpane. Bees love the    thistle and will fight for it if a altercate arises. Poppa  brutal into a patch of these purple, round spikes and suffered some bee wrath.  other flower that holds history with me is the Poppy.

 This flower is my birth flower and my  gravel  utilize to bake chocolate cheesecake clothed in poppy petals for me. Evey  branch in this small square of paradise makes lovely textures and patterns. This  semblance stands  egress and this color hides in rows and circles. All of this comes from my mothers care, taste, hoe, and gloved hands. The garden stands by my fathers shovel, wheelbarrow, water can, and concepts of class and    beauty. Im proud and secure here in my pare!   nts garden.                                        If you want to get a full essay,  come in it on our website: 
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