One last picnic (Descriptive)

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Original question: Describe an occasion when a group of people are eating together.

Slivers of the summer sunlight slipped through the cracks of the blooming apple tree. We sat right under it as it cast pixelated shadows on the dry grass blades, shifting and swaying as the wind gently blew through the evergreen leaves. I stared into the swath of sylvan beauty, sharply contrasting with the machine-controlled, mechanical land behind me.

I sat with my legs folded and overlapping — just like everyone else — on the checkered carpet. It was soft, silky with colors switching between red and blue, making the delicious array of food more prominent. It was a picnic in nature with my family. After a long time, we all got together to reminisce over our old memories and strengthen our fraying bonds. The cornucopia of food filled the carpet to the edges with my Mom's unmatched level of cooking expertise. She knew all about gastronomy like she had taken a university course in it. Her skill was shown in the mouthwatering dishes displayed in a magnificent array. The garnishing, so meticulous; the smell, so alluring; my taste buds began to tingle as they fathomed the unimaginable flavors infused in them.

My Dad pulled out a crusty piece of brown bread. The crust, so delicate, it crumbled and fell like saw dust onto the carpet. He took the blunt knife and swiftly scooped up a copious amount of lemon-yellow butter. The frozen butter thawed into a neat platform as he lathered it on his bread. It seeped through cracks and imbued itself into its core. He stretched his jaws and promised to devour it whole, but instead took a minute bite as he relished mild flavors that soothed his mind.

I realized I was gawking at the sight as my Mom passed a bowl of salad. My mind and vision immediately diverted from my Dad to the intricately decorated bowl that laid before me. It was a world of flavors in itself. I could discern a couple of familiar vegetables but nothing more. The lettuce sliced into long thin strands with shredded chicken — roasted till it took a brown skin — strewn with efficiency around the bowl. I dug my metallic, silvery spoon into the colorful decoration, ruining it in the process and brought a mouthful towards my lips. The crunching sound of the crisp, bitter lettuce entangled with the juices of the chicken intertwined to create a fantastic ball of flavor that exploded within my mouth. All the spices reaching and delighting every single one of my taste bud as I closed my eyes and relished the moment for what may be the last time.

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