I remember writing this in English 101, about 1995
The river lies nestled in the back woods, curving almost back upon itself. Entangled maple trees tower overhead, creating a shaded retreat. The cool river water is translucent, and the center appears to be motionless. The rocks, sand, and fish that inhabit the river are clearly visible, as if I am looking through a glass bottom boat. Water spiders glide across the water's surface causing circular ripples to fan out until they reach the bank on either side. Deep green leaves bring a fresh, clean look and smell to the area. There is one large light brown rock protruding out of the center of the river, three smaller rocks next to it creating a path from the riverbank to the rock. A ray of light shines down through the trees, slightly warming the flat surface of the rock. The air is heavy, and the light breeze barely moves the hot air. Small, pale pink blossoms of the mountain laurel, mixed with the scent of decaying wood, give the forest a feeling of the old combined with the new. The bright noon sun shines down; foggy particles of dander float in the sun's rays. The animals are quiet, taking a siesta. The faint sound of the waterfalls down river is the only sound above the rustling leaves.
From the view on the rock. looking up-river, there is a tall pine tree with long, drooping branches. Underneath, close to the trunk, the briars are entwined making a cozy home for a family of rabbits. Light brown fur is barely visible against the green of the fragrant pine needles. A regal buck emerges cautiously from the trees. He pauses near the river, sniffing and listening, to check for danger. He slowly moves towards the river, looks directly at me, and deciding that I am no danger, drinks the sweet, cold water. Suddenly he perks his head up, turns around and silently bounds away in long, quick leaps.. The sun starts to dip toward the west. Slowly, animals rouse from their siesta and bring the forest to life once again. Various distinct bird calls penetrate the silence. The family of rabbits wake, bounding from their home in search of food, their noses in constant motion. Gray squirrels and chipmunks scramble from tree to tree, trying to out do each other in a contest of daring, each jump more adventurous than the last. A raccoon and his mate lumber to the river bank. Using their front paws like hands, they scoop crawfish from under small rocks and crunch them with delight. A rare blue heron, with a wing span of about five feet, glides down to the river. She lands on a rock on the right side of the river and inspect the fish idly swimming below the surface. With quick movements, she dips down and ensnares a rainbow trout in her large bill. The trout flops, trying to get free. With as much grace as when she landed, she flies off again.
The sun is now very low in the western sky, and the chill of the night penetrates the warmth of the day. Languidly, and with great regret, I get up from the rock. I bound across the smaller rocks to the river bank and start home.