Journal #5

Brainstorming (choice 1):

     The thick, rich canopy of soft willow tree leaves hung carefully just above the crest of the slowly decaying birch wood of the playhouse my dad built me when I was little. An abundance of dandelions littered the plush grass that stretched for what seemed like miles. The mellifluous acoustics of the cardinals and bluejays fill the air around me, singing songs of summer and sentimental memories. The place where I learned to tune a guitar and strum a few chords on the ukulele. The place where I would go to seek comfort, or to simply escape from the real world for a little while. The place where my sister and I shared memories, and where she shared her first kiss. It was a place of solidarity, amenity, and placidity. It was my childhood backyard.