Natalie's Got Talent

Natalie had to write a descriptive essay for school. She came home all excited because her teacher had liked it so much and read it out loud. I thought it was pretty good as well and so, at the risk of sound like an over-proud mom, I thought I'd share it. Mark and I both got a kick out of the fact that she snuck a wolf into the last line. (Natalie is just slightly OBSESSED with wolves.) The picture above is one Natalie drew with her pen tablet on the computer. It is of her wolf alter-ego, Nightstar. Here is the essay:

Evening Storm by Natalie Petrucka

Light, delicate fragments dot the darker ground. Each flake is unique; they fight about who's the best, the most beautiful. The crisp breeze encourages the arguing. The more tired have already lined the ground and trees, slowly covering them. The trees and ground look skyward as the new, fresh flakes dance in an everlasting competition. This disturbance of peace begins to chase away the sun, which slowly sinks away in warning, wishing the world would calm itself.

The excited wind grows harsher, howling for a fight, forcing the already below-zero temperature down yet further. The noise promotes the clouds to send more fragments down, releasing them into the atmosphere, rich with crisp wind and angry snow. Temperatures continues to drop, causing the bare oak trees to shiver and the sun to sink yet farther.

A gust of wind swirls the snow, purposely angering it, causing it to fight more fiercely than the normal good-looks competitions. Flake fights flake as they fall, blown by the screaming wind from it's cloud-realeased area, twisting and turning as they go. The trees beg the sun not to keep sinking; to come back up, as the snowflakes change the trees from a beige color to white. The wind dies down, and without its blowing, the snowflakes stopped fighting just briefly to think, but the wind rallies themup again; arguing and complaining.

The snow landed everywhere, not just land and trees, but on a nearby pond, as well. It's bitter coldness freezes the top, changing the glistening water to listless ice. The ice grows deeper as more snow lands on its surface, resting from the awful argument. After a few minutes of ice-thinking and snow-landing, it would be impossible to know that there was ever a pond, for it looked, and even felt, like land, and the thaw was months away.

The sun sinks farther until it is no longer able to be seen. The clouds give up flake-producing, and with no snow, the wind gives up encouragement. The clouds drift off to present the cold night sky, and the long, drawn-out howl of a wolf announced the arrival of night.