The sunlight streams onto my face, giving my body a nice warmth. The various wheat and rye dance, forming waves, as a swell of wind transforms the field into an amber sea. A crisp fall breeze cuts through the warmth and rustles the golden leaves of the surrounding woods on the far side of the acre large field. Blood rushes to my cheeks as the cold finds me and penetrates the gaps of my woolen sweater, forcing me to continue up the sidewalk. I glance upon the broken concrete path and reminisce of times when the biggest obstacles in life consisted of missing the cracks when in a game of hopscotch. My younger, curious, and imaginative self remembers deep dark caverns forcing their way into the earth; however, the equally curious and imaginative, yet somewhat more realistic teenager now only notices the small hairline fractures filled with a new growth of dandelions. …show more content…
The wind picks up, swirling fallen leaves and forcing me to quicken my pace along the sun-bleached deck, decorated with halcyonic farm cats, huddled in masses to retain heat. A golden haze radiates out the glass panels of the cream colored door, hinting to the pleasantries that are soon to follow. Before my second foot passes the threshold and lands on the woven rope rug, I am greeted with an embrace that could warm the coldest of beings. However, as quickly as it began, the embrace ends as my grandmother rushes to check on the baking pies. I can tell from the cinnamon fragrance and the peals in the wastebasket, that I will be enjoying an apple pie
It was early, the sun was just beginning to peak over the mountains that lined the distant horizon. The breeze carried with it the scents of dew and the variety of wildflowers that grew along the lake shore. Flocks of birds flew over head, their cries piercing the silence of morning.
I am surrounded by the splendor of the nature. On a moderately sunny morning, birds are peeping while sitting on the gigantic mature tree in the park. The stream of water rising from the fountain is crafting a magical melody. The mesmerizing winds have imprisoned everyone’s attention. The bright colorful flowers are depicting the charms of their juvenile. Different pleasant sounds in the environment are contributing to the concerto of nature. Leaves rustling in the cool breeze are an amazing part of the environment. A young couple sitting on the bench beside the fountain is relishing the pleasant sight.
The cold wind rushing past me. The sun’s rays of light covered by the darkness of the clouds. Hooves, galloping along the floor. Dust surrounding me. My tight grip on my spear, my gallant horse’s hooves flying across the field.
I prepared myself for the upcoming adventurous day. I set out along a less-traveled path through the woods leading to the shore. I could hear every rustle of the newly fallen leaves covering the ground. The brown ground signaled the changing of seasons and nature's way of preparing for the long winter ahead. Soon these leaves would be covered with a thick layer of snow. The leaves still clinging to the trees above displayed a brilliant array of color, simultaneously showing the differences of each and the beauty of the entire forest.
I have never felt so calm and tranquil, I feel like this is where I belong. A sudden cold breeze blows through me making my hair stand on end, goosebumps plague my body as I start to shiver. The leaves in the trees rustle as the grass begins to blow circles around me. The velutinous clouds above start to swirl and race across the sky.
It was similar to the suburban street I grew up on, but in lieu of cookie-cutter houses with stale Bermuda grass, there stood wood cabins with yards covered in snow. The reddish-orange light emanating from the towering street lights pierced through a white fog and gently illuminated the area. Exiting the car, I was overwhelmed with a flurry of new sensations. The gently falling snow absorbed all of the sounds I was used to hearing in a residential area.The low hum of passing cars, birds singing from the trees, and the sound of blowing wind appeared to be muffled, even silenced, by the steady falling snow. I felt enveloped in a cool, but somehow familiar blanket. The smell of burning wood was coming from every direction, as each house I looked at had a thin, grayish plume rising gently from the chimney. The plumes represented the warmth and comfort of the many people I imagined to be nestled by the fire. Looking down the street, I noticed how freshly plowed it was. A thin layer of snow and ice-- like icing on a cupcake, or the glass top on my parent’s nightstand-- covered the street. But on the side of the street sat a pile of snow that could have swallowed me alive. Feeling taunted, I stood there and weighed my options. Chest deep mounds of frozen crystals begged me to dive in and lose myself. Preparing to succumb to the temptations before me, I was momentarily hindered by the fear of my parent’s wrath. But had that ever stopped me
Billy Thompson and Sam Westfield were similar in many ways. Since a young age they both has excelled at sports and both loved more then anything, the sport of football. While growing up, the boys did not know each other and probably thought they would never have too. But all of that changed with the diagnosis.
Inhaling, I notice how my lungs fill with pristine air. The gentle wind curls around my face, tenderly brushing my hair against my cheeks. My heartbeat is reverberating through my body, pulsating within my fingertips. The natural fragrance drifting from the unrestricted growth of life envelops me. The sunlight tenderly kisses my exposed arms and warmth cascades along my skin.
It has come through the winter and the sometimes-hard frosts of spring, holding us together with its sharp thorns and being a boundary for us through the dark time of rebirth and regrowth. Now it is a threshold, the “edge” between winter and summer, the liminal place we cross over into the bounty of the fecund season. Jumping through the fires
IT WAS ONE OF those perfect autumn days so common in stories and so rare in the real world. The weather was warm and dry, ideal for ripening a field of wheat or corn. On both sides of the road the trees were changing color. Tall poplars had gone a buttery yellow while the shrubby sumac encroaching on the road was tinged a violent red. Only the old oaks seemed reluctant to give up the summer, and their leaves remained an even mingling of gold and green.
Clusters of bright yellow sunflowers are growing amidst the green prairie grass. I pick a sunflower and take pleasure in its sweet fragrance. I pull each soft petal off and toss it into the wind. Puffs of white cotton from a cottonwood tree float slowly past me.
A new day has begun. Slowly ascending into the cold dark sky, the sun glows vibrantly with delight. The passionate colours fill the sky with warmth like the pink grapefruits, zesty lemons, citrus oranges and cherry red. The sea so subtle sparkles preciously as it strolls up against the shore. The crystal water that stretch out far into the horizon gets darker and deeper but stays very calm.
We walked through the glistening white fields. The snow seemed to stretch endlessly and only the tall oak trees stood proudly pressed upon by the whiteness and cold of winter. Yet a tiny little thing caught my eye, a flower. Blood red flowers defiantly stood, their beauty magnified hundredfold by the surrounding glistening snow. I knelt before their beauty and saw their petals swayed gently under the northern wind, as if dancing seductively.
The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.
It was late summer. The weather was gradually changing to autumn, which was noticeably seen on the leaves that were starting to turn orange. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too hot or too cold outside. In fact, it was actually soothing; the cold wind blowing, paired with the warm sun shining above.