Yesterday Tim had N. write an essay on the topic of the blossoms in our neighborhood. Here is my transcription of what N. produced in his neat little printing:
"The Blossoms of XXX XXX" An essay by N.
Springtime comes. The leafless trees burst into bloom. The daffodils flower, showing their pretty yellow faces. The dogwoods, white and pink, are bringing the old mansions of XXX Avenue to life, same as the cherries on XXX Avenue, both puffball and regular, light up the sidewalks. The trees in the park itself are getting leaves now, making the park have the air of shade, letting you feel a sense of comfort, instead of the feeling of not being protected. Everything is showing off it's beauty. A light breeze blows some blossoms off, but does it matter? No. The trees are just as beautiful as before.