A few weeks ago my dad showed me a dead lark in front of our house and said “What a poor bird! I think it was being chased by a bigger bird, and then he bumped into the window extremely hard because I saw feathers on the window.”
Right then I felt so sad for the bird I decided to make a grave for it. 2 days later a squirrel named Pesky (I named him Pesky because he always eats the bulbs I plant and he chews on our flower stems) tore some daffodils to eat but he didn't finish them and so me and my friend Cristina Improved the grave by adding the daffodils and some other things.
Now my dad says that the grave is the most beautiful place on our entire property, and people might destroy it if they find out about it and so we should keep it a secret between us.
It was hard to keep it a secret between us , but we’ve managed to do so until now.
When we went to the San Juan islands me and my friends and family stayed in a cabin. In the back yard there was a fire pit, chairs and thorny trees. The rest was a small meadow like field with a bunch of flowers creating a carpet of vibrant white, yellow ,green, and purple.
Every night that we stayed we made a fire. My jobs were to help the logs catch fire by sticking twigs in, making a bridge of fire, feed the fire newspapers and kindling the fire.
Always when everyone else went inside, me and my dad would sit and enjoy the last bit of the fires glow and heat. This memory of me and my father and this trip will always stay in my heart.
