Descriptive Essay - On Mothers Peonys Essays - Flowers, Peony

Descriptive Essay - On Mother's Peonys When I was a child,my mother had the most beautiful peony bushes in the county. The huge, superb, pompoms of white, pink, and burgundy, spectacularly embraced an entire corner of our yard. When the breeze came to dance among the blooms their intoxicating aroma beckoned with a long finger that reached all the way into the house. In May when the honey scented peonies bloomed in concert with the fragrant lilacs, dozens were gathered and brought into the house. For weeks, every room of our house brimmed with blooms. Any container that could hold water was temporarily transformed into a vase. After the flowers gave up their velvety petals they were made to last a bit longer when gathered into several wicker baskets to dry. These dried petals made excellent potpourri to be enjoyed during the cold winter months. Each year progressed this way until one summer when no one seemed to have time to tend the peonies after they bloomed. Vicious weeds crept into the bushes and soon the normally well-tended corner of our garden was a thicket of neglect. One evening, after the supper dishes had been cleared, my father and I went outside to play catch. His faded overalls showed the wear of hard work as he stretched to throw the ball in my direction. As I tossed the ball back to Dad, my cat, Inky, startled me as she twirled herself between my bare feet. I threw the ball wildly as chills spiraled from my ankles to the nape of my neck. The large, red orb darted past my father and landed in the overgrown corner of the yard. Dad retrieved the ball and tossed it in my direction, then silently walked to the garage and returned with the faded green lawn mower. With a cough and a sputter, the metal beast roared to life and Dad attacked Mom's peony patch. He pulled and he pushed until he had consumed every square inch leaving no stem more than an inch tall. I watched in horror as Dad placed the machine back into the garage. Didn't he know just how heartbroken Mom would be when she discovered her flowers of spring had been destroyed? I did not question Dad about his actions but merely followed him inside the house as the once brilliant, now dim, sunset signaled my bedtime. All night I thought Dad must not have remembered that those peonies were planted, years ago, by my grandmother. I thought of how disappointed everyone would be next spring when the lilacs bloomed unaccompanied. But Dad knew something that I did not. The following April, I tagged along as Mom checked on spring's progress in reclaiming our property. We picked at the daffodils that peeked through the cool earth and peeled a few lilac buds to see how soon we could expect the tiny fragrant flowers. Then Mom walked toward for her favorite corner of the yard. She bend over the area where the peonies had been ravaged so many months before. ?Veronica, look at these bushes,? Mom exclaimed. I though she was joking. Surely there was nothing to look at. As she rose and walked towards the house she called out, ?I think we'll have a bountiful crop this year.? Puzzled, I slowly turned and looked down at ground. I saw hundreds of tiny red and green sprouts fueled by the warmth of spring, reaching up to kiss the sun. That year the peony bushes were the best in memory. The neighbors shook their heads and declared that Mom sure knew the secret to tending flowers. I can still recall the sweet aroma of the pinks that scented my room. A few ago I planted my own peony bushes. I, too, am learning the lessons of nature. There is a time for growing, a time for blooming and a time for harvesting. There is even a time for mowing down the weeds and starting over again. So it is with people, who, like peonies, are firmly rooted in soil. We must grow, bloom and sometimes start over again when our lives have become tangled in weeds. The results can be amazing. Creative Writing

Antonio Vivaldi Essays - Operas, Antonio Vivaldi, Anna Gir

Antonio Vivaldi Essays - Operas, Antonio Vivaldi, Anna Gir Antonio Vivaldi Antonio Vivaldi was born in Venice on March 4th, 1678. Through ordained a priest in 1703, according to his own account, within a year of being ordained Vivaldi no longer wished to celebrate mass because physical complaints ?tightness of the chest? which pointed to asthmatic bronchitis, or a nervous disorder. It is also possible that Vivaldi was faking his illness. There is a story that he sometimes left the alter to jot down a musical idea. He had became a priest against his own will, because priesthood was often the only way possible for a poor family to obtain free schooling. Vavaldi wrote many memorable concertos, such as the Four seasons and the opus 3, he also wrote many works for students. People and students still play these pieces all over the world. Vavaldi was employed for most of his working life by by the Ospedale della Pieta. Often termed orphanage, this Ospedale was in fact a home for the female offspring of noblemen and their numerous dalliance with their mistresses. Many of Vavaldi?s concerti were indeed exercises which he would play whith his many talented pupils. Vavaldi?s relationship wth the Ospedale began right after his ordination in 1703, when he was named as the violin teacher there. Until 1709, Vavaldi?s appointment was renewed every year and again and after 1711. They think between 1709 and 1711 Vivaldi was not attached to the Ospedale. They think he might started working for the Teatro Sant? Anngelo an opera theater. He was still was a composer though, in 1711 twelve of his concertos were written and and published in Amsterdam. In 1713 Vavaldi was given a months leave from the Ospedale to stage his first opera, it was called Ottone in ville. He did this opera in Vicenza. He produced another opera in the period between 1713 and 1714. Thse highest part of Vavaldi?s life was the end of 1716. In November he managed to have the Ospedale perform his great oratorio, it was called the Juditha Triumphans devicta Holofernis barbaric. This piece was about the victory of the Christians over the Turks in August of 1716. Vavaldi Moved to Mantua in the late 1717 for two years in order to take up his post as Chamber Kapellmeister at the court of Landgrave Philips van Hessen Darmstadt. His task there was to provide operas, cantatas, and perhaps concert music, too. Vavaldi in 1720 returned to Venice where he again staged new operas that he wrote himself. In Mantua he had met a singer by the name of Anna Giraud, she moved in with him Vavaldi said that she was just a housekeeper and agreat friend, just like her sister, Paolina, who also moved in. Anna Giraud was young, born in Venice. She was daughter to French wigmaker. She was?nt beautiful, though she was elegant, a small women with beatiful eyes and a fascinating mouth. She had a very small voice, but she could speak many languages. Vivaldi taught her how to sing and stayed with her until he died. Vavaldi wrote works for commission from foreign rulers, such as the frech king, Louis XV. He serenaded La Sena festeggiante at the festival of the Seine. The bad thing is that they can not date this music, but they know it was written after 1720. In rome Vavaldi found a patron in the person of Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni, a great music lover, who earlier had been the patron of Arcangelo Corelli. Vavldi himself was asked by the pope to play the violin for him at a private audience. He totally loved it, it also was a great time in his life. Despite his stay in Rome and other cities, Vivaldi remained in the service of the Ospedale della Pieta, he was nominated the Maestro di Concerti. He had to send two concertos per month to veniceand he received a ducat per concerto. His presence was never required. He also remained dictator of the Teatro Sant Angelo, as he did in the 1726, 7 and 8 seasons. Between 1725 and 1728 eight opera were made by Vavaldi. In three months Vavaldi composed three operas, two for Venice and one for florence. During these years Vavaldi also extremely active in the field of Concertos. In 1725 the publication of Il Cimento dell?Armenia e dell?invenzione and opus 8, appeared in Amsterdam. this consisted of twelve concertos, seven of which were descriptive: The Four Seasons, Storm at Sea, Pleasure and The Hunt. Vivaldi transformed the tradition of descriptive music into a typically Italian musical style with its unmistakable timbre in which the strings play a big role. These concetos were enormously successful, particulary in france. In the second half of the