In the Garden

Eight words that grow, bloom, and bend in the sun.

Meet each word one at a time, then take the quiz to lock them in.

1. 1 orchard noun
2. 2 petal noun
3. 3 sprout verb
4. 4 wilt verb
5. 5 lush adjective
6. 6 colorful adjective
7. 7 patiently adverb
8. 8 tenderly adverb

Nelson's word

noun

Orchard. A noun. I file it under a field of fruit trees, planted in neat rows and grown on purpose. An apple orchard, a peach orchard, a cherry orchard: each one is a whole field, not a single tree. A garden may hold many kinds of plants, but an orchard is trees that give fruit, and nothing less. When you read that the family owned an orchard, picture rows of trees heavy with apples. State it precisely: an orchard is a field of fruit trees.

We picked apples in the orchard until our baskets were full.

Nelson's word

noun

Petal. A noun, and a lovely one to file. A petal is one of the colored parts of a flower, the soft, bright leaf that circles the center. A rose has many petals, a daisy has many petals, and a tulip closes its petals up tight at night. File it near flower and bloom. When a story says the wind scattered the petals across the path, picture soft pink and yellow drifting to the ground. A petal is one colored part of a flower, and that is exactly where I keep it.

A single pink petal drifted down from the rose this morning.

Vinny's word

verb

Sprout! To begin to grow, to push up out of the dark soil and reach for the sun! When the seeds sprout, they burst awake and send up a tiny green stem, and that is a heroic thing for something so small. That is the verb, and it is mine. But beware, this word has a secret identity. Say a green sprout on your plate, and now it is a thing, a little plant, a noun that Nelson would file. Same word, two jobs. We sort those hats in Practice.

The seeds sprout after the first warm rain of spring.

Vinny's word

verb

Wilt! To droop, to sag, to go soft and limp for want of water! When the flowers wilt, they bow their heads and let their leaves fall slack, and a hero hurries to save them with a splash from the watering can. That is the verb, and it is mine. Wilt is the opposite of stand tall and reach up. Water a wilting plant, and watch it lift its head again. Learn this verb, and you will always know when a garden is crying out for a drink.

The flowers wilt in the heat when no one waters them.

Jake's word

adjective

Lush. Oh, this one is green and mine. As an adjective, lush describes a place thick with growth, so full and leafy that green spills over everything: a lush garden, a lush hillside, a lush jungle after the rain. Its Frown is barren, the bare and empty patch where nothing grows. Could we be more specific than saying a garden was nice? We could say it was lush, and the reader sees it bursting with green. Same picture, sharper edges. Magnifique.

The lush garden was so green that we could barely see the fence.

Jake's word

adjective

Colorful. An adjective, and a cheerful one, mine to describe. A colorful thing is full of bright colors, red and yellow and blue all at once: a colorful garden, a colorful kite, a colorful painting. Look at how the word is built, color plus ful, meaning full of color. Its Frown is drab, the dull and gray thing with no color at all. Could we be more specific than saying the flowers were pretty? We could say they were colorful, and let the reader see all the bright colors. Magnifique.

A colorful row of tulips lined the path to the gate.

Benny's word

adverb

Patiently. An adverb, and it belongs to me the way a garden belongs to the seasons. Patiently tells you how someone does a thing: in a calm, waiting way, without rushing or fussing. The gardener patiently waits for the seeds to grow, day after day, because a garden cannot be hurried. Now here is your coaching: do not just say the gardener waited. Say the gardener waited patiently, and the reader feels the calm. Make it sharper, and you make it real. That is why this word is worth knowing.

The gardener patiently waits for the seeds to grow.

Benny's word

adverb

Tenderly. An adverb, and one of my favorites to coach. Tenderly tells you how someone does a thing: in a soft, gentle, caring way, the way you would hold something small and alive. She tenderly lifts each seedling into the soil, careful not to bruise a single root. Here is the coaching: do not just say she planted them. Say she planted them tenderly, and the reader feels the care in her hands. A sharper adverb tells us not only what happened, but how it felt. You can do better than plain, and this is how.

She tenderly lifts each seedling into the fresh soil.