It rained all night, and everything was still wet in the morning light. It’s a Tuesday morning so I am in the study with Mr. Burke, the tutor that my father hired.
They set the room up as if it was a classroom, and I sat in an old wooden school desk, and in front of me was a portable chalk board. Mr. Burke was young, early twenties maybe. He was attractive, and tall, and wore thick black framed glasses that hid his green almond shaped eyes. At the moment he was talking about grammar, yawn.
Last night I had a dream about the garden. It was strange-as I entered the garden all of the flowers began to bloom. One by one each was unique and different; not only in color but in shape too. Everything about the place seemed so magical; I could only hope the real thing could feel like that. In all my fifteen years of life, I had never experienced something so beautiful.
After lunch I hope to get outside to finally see the garden up close. The sun is finally breaking through the dark clouds. I’ll make sure I bring a blanket to sit on mainly because I think the garden would be an amazing place to write.
I should really pay attention to Mr. Burke; he just asked me a question… what’s an adjective again?
To answer last nights question I looked up the meaning of having a Green Thumb… it means having the ability to grow plants well. Hmm… that is definitely something to think about.
*Madison Rhodes*
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