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English Descriptive Essay

can you please tell me what grade this is my teacher gave me a B but i think its worth more than that

Condensation slides its way down the window at dawn. Beams of light glimmer above the garden with a glow and the sugar frosted coating of winter melts from the grass. The wide-ranging sound of the birds singing filters through the thick pollenated spring air. A dawn chorus erupts at daybreak as flute throated thrushes sing their joy. Bobbing robins usually join in; creating a soft melody. In the murky garden the frog spawn glistens like teardrops. They even have dark spots like eyes watching the pure blue sky above. Towards the end of the garden there is a small grove of bushes that are thriving with insects trying to shade away from the intense beams of sunlight falling upon them. Every year, daffodils burst from the earth with their fluorescent petals glowing with new life. Buzzing bees surf the open spaces from flower to flower desperately seeking pollen: grains of pixie dust are dispersed by the blustery wind.
Vivacious green grass whispers in the spring like a church packed full of hushed people. Stalks sway as if they are dancing to the song of the birds, nodding their heads in delight. At night the wind dies down and a crescent moon appears, drenching the shady glades with vivid silver light. Yipping fox cubs can be heard in the distance and the lonely hoot of an owl sounds like a phantom lost in the darkness. When morning comes, the sun will once again peep through the dull clouds and inject life into the winter stunned garden. It becomes lush and bountiful for another year; an oasis of life for a tiny world.
As soon as I turn my head around and peer back into the dreary dining room, the sun peaks, through the transparent window pane, flooding the deep brown mahogany table with vibrant light. Daylight shines; gleaming and glittering on the floorboards. Tawdry broken chairs stand at the sides of the table overshadowed by the beautiful table. Numerous odours are directed from the kitchen, The several diffusing scents of cooking, were overpowered by the thick pleasing scent of salty smoked bacon accompanied by the crisp smell of lightly buttered toast; it was time for breakfast. The frying frazzled food filled the extensive amount of space. The curious scent tip toed and whirled through the acrobatic air seeping silently into my lungs, the feeling of the new season surrounds me in delight.
Time passes and autumn arrives; I look out of the crystal clear window and admire the crisp copper leaves falling off the trees that sway gently in the wind. Gloomy grey clouds overlap each other obscuring the dazzling sun above. The chill of the autumn wind raced through the avenues, brittle leaves whirled into frenzied tornadoes; gold, scarlet and deep brown where leaves are summoned for transitory dances before being deposited once more on the discoloured grass.
Bracken at the end of the garden is yellowing joined by clumps of wild wood, scattered across the grass like unwanted toys. A golden carpet of leaves crunch underfoot, there are quivers in the gusts of wind as if there is something menacing within the air. An earthy smell; the smell of autumn fills my lungs; the air is fresh but has the harsh smell of the decomposing garden. Standing at the side of the garden is an undersized pear tree it is bathed with the yellow warmth of the autumn sun, its lifeless brown leaves are falling off and the rotting fruit of the tree lie on the ground like they are dead. There are burrows in the pears made by the worms, like bullet wounds from a violent conflict.
Rays of the sun beam radiantly over the putrefying garden covering it with intense yellow light; hope is shone upon the dying garden but is lost as evening comes the light goes out and the garden is covered in a black haze which fixed itself over the sky, the moon peaks through the haze irradiating the dark sky.
Within the darkness the animals scurry across the golden carpet leaves searching for safety from the icy autumn wind; the wind howls through the night like a wolf lost in the malevolent darkness. The sky dark, it was as if someone had thrown a moth-eaten blanket over the earth, and the stars were the little holes that had been eaten away by the insects.
Morning arrives again and there is a sudden chill, it spreads across the neatly manicured lawn making short strands of grass to shiver. The sombre October chill spreads its way throughout the garden it reminds me of the hard times to come; a season of unforgiving weather. Winter…