The Farm in Connecticut
It was a bright morning when my mom made an announcement that we were to move to a farm in Connecticut.
While my dad and siblings were cheering with delight, I grumbled. I had learned from my friends that Connecticut was ugly, plain, and a very poor place.
I could just picture our new farm, dull, ugly, and dry. The walls of the farm was covered with crumbling limestone. Old yellow, grass covering the ground. No big, strong maple trees to climb on either. The address even seemed weird, 623 Maple Monkey Rd. The address gave me another bad feeling that Connecticut must have some weird people. Though I had bad impressions of how our new farm would look like, I gave up my argument and just moved in with my family.
When we finally made it to Connecticut, the farm was nothing like I had expected, instead the walls were cherry red and very neat. The grass was green as a jade stone. Maples trees big and strong were easy to climb. A quiet white horse was grazing in the grass. I found that I did like my house after all, though the address was pretty embarrassing, I loved my new neighborhood and then and on, I lived in that very house.
Vera T. J
Jam On Jammers
(for Jam on Jammers)