Geo-Engineering: Controlling the Climate and Weather Recall the pleasure derived from the last time you took a walk through a park on a day when the weather was perfect. The sunshine was bright‚ the temperature was perfect‚ and perhaps there was a slight breeze that left you the ultimate feeling of refreshment as it caressed your face. Or perhaps you can remember the last time you enjoyed the sounds and smells of a light April shower that left the trees and grass looking so green and the air
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ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold splintering‚ breaking. When the rooms were warm‚ he’d call‚ and slowly I would rise and dress‚ fearing the chronic angers of that house‚ Speaking indifferently to him‚ who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know‚ what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices? I read and analyzed the poem “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden. Hayden
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Those Winter Sundays The hard work done by a father is typically overseen by those who rely upon it. It is ever apparent in the poem‚ Those Winter Sundays‚ by Robert Hayden. In the poem‚ the speaker tells of the many cold days his father would wake up early in order to make his family’s life more comfortable. These are thankless acts that are not for acknowledgement nor thanks‚ but for the love of his family. Work goes unnoticed bysp the youth of the family just as much now as it did when this poem
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"Love"‚ is often an unrequited emotion experienced by many parental figures. This is displayed in the poem‚ "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden where the speaker is recalling of a time during his childhood where he contemplates the sacrifices his father made for him. The line‚ "Sundays too my father got up early (Line 1)"‚ entails that his or her father awoke every morning and with "cracked hands that ached from labour (Line 3)"‚ undergone his daily routine as the speaker remained oblivious to
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discuss its role in climate and weather. (25) Mass flows of water‚ or currents‚ are essential to understanding how heat energy moves between the Earth’s water bodies‚ landmasses‚ and atmosphere. The ocean covers 71 percent of the planet and holds 97 percent of its water‚ making the ocean a key factor in the storage and transfer of heat energy across the globe. The movement of this heat through local and global ocean currents affects the regulation of local weather conditions and temperature extremes
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Feeling the Winter Blues Do you ever feel as winter approaches you find it more difficult to wake up in the morning or feel like you start lacking energy to perform everyday activities‚ and maybe finding it more difficult concentrating on completing daily tasks? Maybe you are not sure what’s causing you to feel down every year when the season changes‚ it gets colder‚ and the days get shorter. While many people just go year to year feeling a drop in energy level or depressed around the
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in her own home‚ in which she is treated as an unwelcomed guest‚ and the author begins to illustrate and convey the feelings of entrapment and constraint to the reader in this passage‚ often done with symbolic representation of emotion through the weather and nature in gothic novels such as this. She combines this symbolism with desolate diction and structure that mimics Jane’s daily life to communicate the feeling of imprisonment and constraint experienced at Gateshead. When one lives life
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In ’Those Winter Sundays’ by Robert Hayden the author describes his hard working father working to looking after his family during hard times. The author describes a period in America during the Great Depression. Accordingly‚ when a man’s duty as would be to provide for his family. Robert Hayden grew up in America great depression when food was scarce as was providing for one’s family wasn’t easy by far. The author seems to be reminiscing and appreciating his father for getting up early on Sunday
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reflect. Robert Hayden’s “Those Winter Sundays” is a good example of a poem that helped me put my own father’s life‚ and his role in my life‚ in perspective. It’s a process that’s been happening as he slowly faded over the past few years‚ and will continue as the grass grows over his grave. (A friend‚ unfortunately‚ does the same thing with “My Papa’s Waltz” by Theodore Roethke. You can go to the Poetry Foundation page here for that sad poem.) The poem guide for “Those Winter Sundays” and related content
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I never did like driving in the winter. I was almost always running late‚ time just tended to escape me. In the winter‚ everything required a sluggish attentiveness that I didn’t have the tolerance for. Driving had always been a tranquil and lulling thing for me‚ up until I hit solid black ice. I never expected to spin out of control like that and I was so sure that the only way this could end was with my car upside down in the middle of the road. My knuckles were white from gripping the bitter
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