Thursday, 20 November 2014

Samoa's 1st and 2nd an d 3rd paragraph about the pig.

It was midday and the sun rose high over the farm. Dusty settled into her eleventh mud- wallow. Life was good for Dusty. She had a rosy pink snout, that twitched as she sniffed the delicious vegetables. Far, far away, Mrs Latu Taylor, the owner, could see Dusty’s small eyes that were sharp and inquisitive. Patches of coarse hair stuck out from her face in tufts. Dusty was so nosy by nature, always wanting to know what was going on around her.

The farm was down a long, muddy track, far away from the main highway. Mrs Latu Taylor was tidy - she packed the bales of hay that rested in a neat array. The water tanks stood to attention like three rotund guards. Dusty was rolling down the hills and she got caught in the long shadows of the late afternoon sun. The old barn was home, and it was comforting, cosy and always busy with its inhabitants. For nearly one hundred years, the farm had been nestled on the side of the hill next to the babbling creek.   

As she noticed that she was in the water Dusty was worried concentration, that made dusty, frowned in earnest. Her  hooves tried to tread, in the water but he could hardly stay afloat! Dusty’s Turquoise of the water,  lapped over  her snout. When She  Panicking as  she appeared, unable to close the gap to land.     

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