“I’m going to die! I swear I’m going to freeze to death,” Quill, our melodramatic seven year old proclaims.
My husband James sighs next to me. “You will not die, stop saying that. Keep moving, you’ll stay warm.”
“Dad, what’s this?” Quill pokes something with the walking stick. “I’m still going to die.” Dani keeps trying to see Quill’s find which annoys her older brother.
James has made it to the pile of snow. “Stop poking it and let me see.”
“Is it bear poop? Dani, back off, this is man stuff.” Quill puts a cautionary arm across her path. It’s hell being five and a girl sometimes.
“I think I see a sunny spot Dani, let’s go warm up.” I say. The day was warming in the parking lot. Small piles of snow melting next to the concrete. Under the trees circling Bear Lake it is damn cold. Memorial Day Weekend at Rocky Mountain National Park and one side of the Lake still has three feet of snow covering the path.
Dani and I stand in the sun waiting for the “men” to catch up. The view was worth Quill’s whining and navigating through the snow. The breeze catches in the bright green and gold of new Aspen leaves whispering around the lake. The Pine trees scent the air and bask in the sun to steal its warmth from the forest below. The trees are a dark canopy along our path permitting only a few patches of the raised finely mulched trail to a beam or two of sun. Framed like a photo three pencil lead gray peaks rise above a lower sweeping curve of pines. They look close enough to walk over the ridge and touch them. Boulders precariously cling to the side of the mountains. The perfect deep blue early summer sky is the perfect backdrop.
“I’m going to die.”
“Is Quill really going to die?” Dani asks. She is only five but seems much older,...
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...y the Park Service for a small jar of ashes. The melting snow ends the embarrassment and has me standing. I brush frantically trying to get all the melting bits and pieces removed. I look around thankful it was not one of the muddy puddles decorating my ass. The brown tinted snow shows signs of other hearty souls trekking beside the lake.
“Do you want me to take the backpack?” James asks trying not to laugh.
Quill is pointing and laughing.
“Keep it up little man. I’ll push your butt in the snow.” I fake a lunge which sends him scrambling trying to coordinate his feet and walking stick.
His bright blue eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to kill me mom.”
“How many times did you sled this winter? I remember freezing my ass off at least twice,” I ask.
He waves his hand in a, you don’t get it motion. “Mom, Kansas snow is different. Colorado snow will kill you.”
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.
to die..I think about it all the time. It won’t go away.”(195) He responds with,
“I wish that it would snow for once out here,” Bob said with a frown appearing upon his face. “That has never happened before”.
“Are you scared?” he teased. Even in the scarce lighting, Grendel could see the boy’s face had flushed a dark crimson. The other teenagers snickered. This only served to make the young man’s expression shift to a scowl at the elder
He has been practicing for months, handling the piercing cold of Minnesota all along with it. He goes outside to practice sledding with his dogs everyday, preparing for the race. Along the way, he has survived dangerous encounters with nature, wildlife, and himself. One of his lead sled dogs has thrown him off a cliff. He has almost been killed by bear.
“I woke up from the nightmares with a cold fear,” she said. “I came to a point where I didn’t want to die, but just wanted to be dead.”
As the two men hiked, they came upon many rugged trails and hills that were difficult to overcome, however they did it together and kept moving on. The view from the trail was beautiful with many places to stop and admire the view, but they couldn’t seem to get above the canopy of the trees to truly take in the whole view. The man that strove to see the beautiful scenery from an unobstructed viewpoint was trying in every way to get above what was around him to see the true beauty of the mountains.
Three inches of fresh snow fell last night, creating a blanket of freshness that reflects the last rays of moonlight. As we drive into our property we see fresh deer tracks and my heart starts pumping, I have been away from Wisconsin for a few months and this morning is the first time I entered these woods since September. A few hundred yards into the woods we jump three deer walking the road. They bound off into the darkness in flashes of brown silhouetted by snow. We park...
You saw Sans bend over and pick up a ball of snow. He nudges your shoulder and asks,”*i’ve been thinking about selling treats too. want some fried snow? it’s just 5G.”
“I know I’m the reason for her death. Those hunters were after me, not her. It’s this goddamn curse. If I hadn’t known, if I hadn’t screamed and realised. I- I wouldn’t have rushed all the way to that house to make sure she was okay. They tracked me. She had nothing to do with it. If I wasn’t there she still would be. And now I can’t even make sure that she’s alright. Because the bloody divine forces won’t let me. Why?”
An early winter breeze ripped through me, ruffling the sleeves of my jacket and whipping hair into my face. The cold and prediction of snow had driven everyone inside for the day, at least as far around me as I could see; the fog blocked out everything outside a five foot radius. I was at the top of a hill and couldn’t even see the bottom of the road. There were no cars, no people around, only the snowflakes to keep me company, falling softly at first, then whirling around as occasional gusts of wind cut through the valley. Blasts of air pushed heavy piles of snow off tree branches toward the ground, landing silently on top of the existing snowdrifts.
Digging into the snow with my boots while stabilizing my body with the uninjured arm, I inch across the hill, lose my foothold, and plummet downward.
Being invited to a friend’s house the other day, I began to get excited about the journey through the woods to their cabin. The cabin, nestled back in the woods overlooking a pond, is something that you would dream about. There is a winding trail that takes you back in the woods were their cabin sits. The cabin sits on top of a mountain raised up above everything, as if it was sitting on the clouds.
Robert Frost’s love of nature is expressed in the setting of his poem "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening." His elaborate description of the woody setting brings vivid images to the reader’s mind. Frost explains the setting so descriptively that the reader feels he is in the woods alsoThe setting is a very important tool Frost uses in writing this poem. The setting is obviously in the woods, but these are not just any old woods. Something caught the speaker’s eyes in these woods making them a special place for the speaker. It seems as if the speaker has associated these woods with an aspect of his "personal paradise". The peacefulness, tranquillity, darkness, and silence are all important parts of this "paradise".