Descriptive Paragraph
Descriptive Paragraph
One of the things that I treasure in summertime is my weekends. I start my day early, getting ready to ride in my boyfriend’s car, to pick up the boat from a friend. The boat is a camouflaged, flat bottom, twelve feet long; spray painted on one side is the name for the boat “Esox Lucius”. We get to the creek and Jake dismounts the boat, I help by bringing the fishing poles, tackle boxes and my bag down to the bank.
The familiar creek where we go is not too wide, covered on both sides by green pasture hills. We drift around curves with the moderate sway of the water. The day is clear blue sky with bright rays of light coming from the sun, and refreshing soft breeze enveloping our skin.
Not far from here, you can hear the mooing from a group of robust, spotted cattle nibbling the grass. There are farmers getting tractors ready for work in the fields.
I am sitting in the front of the boat reading a book, while Jake is casting away his bait ready to catch another fish. He is standing at the back of the boat for a wide open cast. Yet his back is straight and at ease, because he is doing one of his favorite hobbies, facing me. His arms sway smoothly with every cast far away from the boat, enjoying the dynamic between the bait and the fish. In addition the water is so clear, which makes it simple to spot the fish leaping for the bait.
After a while I put down the book, and decide to fish as well. The fishing pole is an Ugly Stik model, six and a half feet long, equipped with a cork handle. My bait is a half ounce swim jig head; about five inches long, camouflaged green, purple and orange skirt, with a black and white swimbait tail. With my distant cast, combined with a slow reeling, I eagerly anticipate a fish to make the mistake to fall for my
One of the things that I treasure in summertime is my weekends. I start my day early, getting ready to ride in my boyfriend’s car, to pick up the boat from a friend. The boat is a camouflaged, flat bottom, twelve feet long; spray painted on one side is the name for the boat “Esox Lucius”. We get to the creek and Jake dismounts the boat, I help by bringing the fishing poles, tackle boxes and my bag down to the bank.
The familiar creek where we go is not too wide, covered on both sides by green pasture hills. We drift around curves with the moderate sway of the water. The day is clear blue sky with bright rays of light coming from the sun, and refreshing soft breeze enveloping our skin.
Not far from here, you can hear the mooing from a group of robust, spotted cattle nibbling the grass. There are farmers getting tractors ready for work in the fields.
I am sitting in the front of the boat reading a book, while Jake is casting away his bait ready to catch another fish. He is standing at the back of the boat for a wide open cast. Yet his back is straight and at ease, because he is doing one of his favorite hobbies, facing me. His arms sway smoothly with every cast far away from the boat, enjoying the dynamic between the bait and the fish. In addition the water is so clear, which makes it simple to spot the fish leaping for the bait.
After a while I put down the book, and decide to fish as well. The fishing pole is an Ugly Stik model, six and a half feet long, equipped with a cork handle. My bait is a half ounce swim jig head; about five inches long, camouflaged green, purple and orange skirt, with a black and white swimbait tail. With my distant cast, combined with a slow reeling, I eagerly anticipate a fish to make the mistake to fall for my