Write a descriptive essay in which you capture the beauty of the natural world (Mock exam 2023)

Feedback: It is excellent, H1, very good length and interesting structure. I think if anything you need just a bit more on the descriptive aspect relating to the natural world rather than personal reflection/people/events to make sure you get all the Purpose marks (which is the most important part). 

Title: Endless Blue

For Evelyn.

The year is 1956 and my grandmother is 17 years old. The song of the sea is her alarm clock on this midsummer morning and the sole thought of the ocean’s dreamy surface is what propels her out of bed. Across the road, waves crash onto the shoreline and the sound of their peaceful destruction soothes her senses as she tames her own blonde waves into a braid. Throwing on a dress that her mother would deem too short, she dashes out the front door; yearning for that maritime beauty.

Upon reaching the stretch of sand she is greeted by the siren call of the sea and she immediately feels at home. The watery wonderland of Rosslare Strand Beach is especially alluring at this time of the year. The beach is shaped like a shepherd’s hook of gold and the sea that surrounds it is an infinite stretch of blue. Endless blue. The golden grains beneath her feet feel like a carpet of candy floss and the sun, smiling down at her, looks like a yellow lollipop in the sky. ‘Eye-candy’, she muses. The aroma of sea salt in the air ever so kindly brings the taste and the tang of the sea to her lips. Who knew nature could be so delectable? There on the solitary beach she is standing in the gateway of heaven on Earth. She delights in the sights, the sounds and the smells of the natural world around her, but she is not close enough.

Her footsteps in the sand follow her through a minefield of shells and seaweed, down to where the water dribbles onto the beach. In this sleepy Wexford village, the sea is a known seductress. My grandmother knows this better than anyone but even she cannot resist the tempting water. Slipping off her shoes she steps carefully into the crystalline shallows and squeals in delight as cold droplets splash onto her ankles. Her skin quickly welcomes the cold and she wanders further into the salty, formless arms of the sea. “Heaven is tangible”, she says aloud. But no one else hears it. Because no one else is there.

Gazing out across the glorious vastness, she spots the fishermen’s boats headed towards the harbour. Their vessels stick out against the azure backdrop and in the light of the sun she can make out nets brimming with fish. The ocean’s bounty. The seaside brings joy, memories and food. That is the simple beauty of it and my grandmother could never understand why something so plentiful is so often overlooked. For her such beauty evoked sweet memories. Like the summer of ’55, when she brought a boy down to the sandy shore so they could relish in the beauty of nature together. They lounged on the soft sand as the sun, a fiery orb, gradually receded into the water below. The sky was an assortment of colours: a blend of reds, pinks and purples. The water below mirrored this effect. She turned to the boy beside her and they whispered sweet nothings and made promises as temporary as the tides in the candy-coloured water before them. Peace, serenity, bliss.

She is awoken from her trance by a splash of salty water on her thigh. Oh how easy it is to get lost in the beauty of the natural world. Grinning from ear to ear she reaches into the water to retrieve a shiny pebble and tosses it into the air. It lands with a pleasant ‘kerplunk’, leaving a disc of ripples in its wake. Sinking down and down. She catches her reflection in the clear water. The natural world has provided her with a natural mirror and now two natural beauties are face-to-face. The mirror of the ocean doesn’t pick up her small insecurities like the man-made mirrors. In her quivering reflection she can find no trace of scars or pimples. Only beauty and joy. How sweet!

Standing up straight she fixates on the idyllic coast one last time. With the sea breeze rustling through her braid and brine flowing past her limbs, she feels the freedom of the sea; transparent and blue, soft and strong. Closing her eyes, she allows her senses to be completely overwhelmed with joy. She is one with nature.

She is one with endless blue.

* * *

The year is 2009 and I am five years old. My grandmother is seventy. We gallivant hand-in-hand towards the beach so she can show me the endless blue that lives on her doorstep. The pale sand is spongy beneath my feet and the air is nippy. It sends my brown locks flying. I cast my eyes out across the surface of the water and my grandmother’s eyes follow mine. The sea immediately takes its effect on her and she closes her eyes to inhale the salty air. A smile creeps across her face as she exhales. She is in her element.

But I am not.

I wait patiently for the magic of the landscape to seduce me. I wait and wait but I feel nothing. Clutching my grandmother’s hand, my mind becomes focused on a different kind of ocean. A different type of endless blue. And so as my grandmother watches a ship sail across the horizon, my eyes chase an airplane in the celestial ocean above my head. Now we are both in a trance. Now, hand-in-hand, we are both enamored of endless blue.

* * *

The year is 2021 and I am seventeen years old. My grandmother turned eighty two years ago. She will forever be eighty.

I cross the tarmac to where my aircraft waits patiently in the shadow of the air traffic control tower. Using the sinking sun as my clock I quickly remove the gust locks and inspect the control surfaces. The aerial ocean calls to me and I long to get up and see it before night kicks in; before the mountains and the ocean are concealed by a sinister smile of ebony.

Within minutes the wheels of my little Cessna have left the ground and I am airborne, ascending into the beautiful unknown. Evening clouds lounge lazily in the sky. They bask in the warm glow like sleepy crocodiles on the river bank. They come into contact with the sun every now and again; veiling it like a bride. I admire the natural beauty of the sky around me. The sun’s amber radiance sends honeyed rays diving among the cerulean blue. The words of Emily Dickinson echo in my head: “Inebriate of Air – am I – and Debauchee of Dew”. That is how I feel, up here in the endless blue of the sky.

I glide over the shimmering surface of the ocean and its beauty evokes a memory in me. 2009. Standing on the sand of Rosslare Strand beach, clutching my grandmother’s hand. Two wandering souls, connected through touch, focusing on two different kinds of endless blue. We could never agree which was more beautiful: the sea or the sky. We were different and that is okay.

My eyes are now steady on the horizon, the point where the sea and the sky touch. I can almost feel my grandmother’s hand in mine as I watch the sky hug the sea. They will hold each other close through the dark of night, right through until dawn. But even then they will still be connected through touch. Always together, despite their differences. A solitary tear rolls down my cheek and it tastes like the salt of the sea. “Heaven”, I whisper.

Wherever my grandmother is now I hope it resembles the Rosslare coast on a summer’s day. Full of boats and waves. When I get there I hope it resembles the sky. Full of planes and clouds. For both of us I hope heaven is blue.

Endless blue.