Nestled deep within the Berkshire Mountains rests the small town of Westfield, Massachusetts. Every morning, a light, tepid fog settles among the quiet streets, devising a peaceful and calm atmosphere. Light winds gently brisk through the many oak trees, swaying the branches back and forth. From afar, the tall mountains border the limits of Westfield, forming a panorama of natural landscape. Fortunately, I was able to call the town of Westfield my home for many years. However, the town serves as more than a source of scenery. Westfield, Massachusetts, has profound personal importance as it portrays the majority of my lifetime. In fact, residing in Westfield has positively impacted my life as a result of the particular climate, historic motif, and community entrenched within the town. Perhaps the vast array of seasons and weather patterns hold the town to a unique appeal. In the fall, the crisp and cool breeze wafts through the fallen leaves, blanketing the lawns and streets in a warm, orange hue. In the winter, icy gusts chill the terrain, followed by the gentle fall of snowflakes. With time, the town is coated in …show more content…
a fluffy and bright white powder. As spring develops, the snow begins to melt, and traces of warmth are felt in the everlasting breeze. When summer arrives, the sun illuminates the soft blue sky, and the lawns of all are once again verdant. The town of Westfield holds a historic theme, dating back to the seventeenth century. At the heart of Westfield lies a common green, where residents convene to enjoy the extraordinary landmarks embedded within the town. The most prominent landmark is a massive fountain, gently launching strands of water into the air, only to plunge into a lucent, crystal pool of water. Beneath the soft blue sky, the American flag towers over the green, brandishing in the breeze of any season.
In the distance, the faint roar of train whistles can be heard, followed by the gentle hum of a car engine as it passes by. In their original configuration, small buildings and shops outline the narrow streets, encircled by an array of hickory and oak trees. Just below the horizon, rolling, grassy hills guide the boundary for evergreen bushes and plants. The soothing breeze hints the scent of burnt firewood and pine, followed by the calming vibration of an airplane overpass. From an isometric perspective, the narrow streets lead to a tall colonial tower, which features a grand, Roman clock. For centuries, the population of Westfield has preserved the town with a primitive theme, showcasing the historic roots and glory of early American
civilization. The population of Westfield, Massachusetts, is suffused with an assortment of cultures and backgrounds: people who amass to form a community. With such diversity, witnessing the genuine and amiable residents collaborate on a daily basis is truly prodigious. The community demonstrates true fortitude, especially with incessant instances involving finance, education, and development. Unfortunately, it has been theorized that the northern portion of the United States consists of a population with a contemptuous demeanor, when compared to other portions of the United States. Nevertheless, the population certainly makes the town of Westfield, Massachusetts, a desirable home for many, including myself. Combined, the unique climate, historical motif, and community of Westfield, Massachusetts, promote an unparalleled ambiance. Living among the cordial population in addition to the natural allure conceives a distinguished feeling of hope, happiness, and passion. For merely two decades, I relished the feeling brought by residing in such a society. Realistically, living in the town of Westfield, Massachusetts, has ultimately developed the character, skills, and knowledge that I currently retain. However, on a bitter, frigid January evening, the feeling of hope, happiness, and passion seemed nearly defunct. Abruptly, I was informed that I would relocate to the state of Florida. In pursuit of new opportunities, I was forced to leave my friends, my family, and my home. On a bleak and muggy summer morning, I saw the town of Westfield, Massachusetts, for the last time. Although the emotional agony was insufferable, I felt as if residing in the town had prepared me for such a circumstance. In retrospect, Westfield, Massachusetts, was more than a place of residence. In fact, numerous aspects of the town yielded critical skills necessary for prosperity throughout my transition. The elegance of Westfield provided me with a sense of ambition, while the community provided me with a sense of benevolence, and the historic theme of Westfield afforded a sense of dignity for the United States of America. I vividly remember the internal strain in which I experienced walking down the jetway into an airplane. As the airplane taxied onto the runway, the engines roared, and I firmly gripped the armrest of my seat. Rolling down the runway, the accelerating aircraft resembled the memories of my home, rapidly flashing past me. Before I could comprehend the situation, the wheels had left the ground, and through the window of the airplane, I gazed at the dwindling sight of Western Massachusetts. Although I no longer reside in Westfield, the community continues to protect the values of true American pride day after day. The marvelous scenery continues to flourish, and the seasons continue to cycle, creating new and valuable memories for every resident. Nonetheless, the virtues which I acquired from my surroundings in the town of Westfield, Massachusetts, have not only enhanced my social and emotional abilities but also have essentially changed my life. Unfortunately, I struggled with my departure from the town for quite some time as it was my one and only home. Rather, residing in Westfield, Massachusetts, has proven to be the pinnacle of my lifetime thus far. When I feel a sense of nostalgia, I escape to Westfield, Massachusetts, through my cherished memories. Once again, I feel the cool fall breeze, hear the echo of train whistles, or catch a glimpse of the soft blue sky. Despite the recent changes in my life, the town of Westfield, Massachusetts, is never to be forgotten.
In today’s society, American citizens tend to believe that America has been, “American” since the day that Christopher Columbus set foot in the Bahamas. This is a myth that has been in our society for a multitude of years now. In A New England Town by Kenneth A. Lockridge, he proves that America was not always democratic. Additionally, he proves that America has not always been “American”, by presenting the town of Dedham in 1635. Lockridge presents this town through the course of over one hundred years, in that time many changes happened as it made its way to a type of democracy.
In the Prologue of Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton, Being in Starkfield fro the first time he observed the people and landscape, he says “During the early part of my stay I had been struck by the vitality of the climate and the deadness of the community. Day by day, after the December snows were over, a blazing blue sky poured down torrents of light and air on the white landscape, which gave them back an interesting glitter. One would have supposed that such an atmosphere must quicken the emotions as well as the blood; but it seemed the produce no change except that of retarding still more sluggish pulse of Starkfield. (Wharton 7-8) To an outsider the Winter of Starkfield seems very pretty and almost angelic as the entire town is covered in a blanket of white snow. To the residents of Starkfield, Winter is a parasite
for the reader of the town and residents of this town on a normal summer morning.
One of the main symbols of the story is the setting. It takes place in a normal small town on a nice summer day. "The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full summer day; the flowers were blooming profusely and the grass was richly green." (Jackson 347).This tricks the reader into a disturbingly unaware state,
In Jamaica Kincaid’s A Small Place she describes the island of Antigua to a tourist. In the passage that is discussed on this paper Kincaid is explaining to the tourist how they are seen by the locals on the island. She writes in the second person to directly address the tourist but there is a lot of nuance in her writing that reveal her true feelings to the reader. In the passage Kincaid use language as a tool to dehumanize the tourist. She paints them as more of a creature than a person.
She also introducing new urban building standards. This this article she talks about, the idea some people have of tearing it down and rebuilding. She also talks about ideas people have about some parts of towns. In Boston, she talks about the area of North End, and the change that it was over gone. During her second visit to this area, she discovered that it had changed. She talked to other about it, although the statistic were higher than the city, the people still saw it as a slum. They felt that they needed to tear it down in order to build something better. This leads to the conclusion that the urban planners to do understand that the people of the city need. They have ideas that were developed years ago that they are still using. These ideas do not take account what the people want. The author also introducing new ideas of a perfect city to live in and what it would look like. The idea of a garden city was introduced. This city would be built around a park. Although the new ideas sounded great they could not be put into place today. The idea of a Garden City is something that sounds nice, but it is not possible in society today. Today a city should reflect economic status, and in order to achieve this the city should be big, and convey an image of power. A city that has aspects of nature in it would not convey that image. That upkeep of a city of that kind would also be difficult. The do understand the author's point of view. The planners often times do not take into account the desires of the people. The town that I grow up in want to become more urbanized. In order to do this, they are building a large shopping center. This shopping center is located in the canyon rim. This canyon rim has been important the people for many years. We come to the area to walk, what bass jumpers, and enjoy the scenic views. This new shopping center took away this area. Many of the people
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.
When Willy and Linda purchased their home in Brooklyn, it seemed far removed from the city. Willy was young and strong and he believed he had a future full of success. He and his sons cut the tree limbs that threatened his home and put up a hammock that he would enjoy with his children. The green fields filled his home with wonderful aromas. Over the years, while Willy was struggling to pay for his home, the city grew and eventually surrounded the house.
In the beginning Carver ironically uses the weather as setting to describe the mood and atmosphere. The season used in the story is winter. As winter is season of cold and symbolizes cold, dark and gray. Where color represents happiness, joy and life and darkness represents dullness, sadness and stress. “Early that day the weather turned and the snow was melting into dirty water.”(276). the first sentence gives the reader a hint about something that has happened between the couple in the story and their
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
First, Jackson begins by establishing the setting. She tells the reader what time of day and what time of year the story takes place. This is important to get the reader to focus on what a typical day it is in this small town. The time of day is set in the morning and the time of year is early summer. She also describes that school has just recently let out for summer break, letting the reader infer that the time of year is early summer. The setting of the town is described by the author as that of any normal rural community. Furthermore, she describes the grass as "richly green" and that "the flowers were blooming profusely" (196). These descriptions of the surroundings give the reader a serene felling about the town. Also, these descriptions make the reader feel comfortable about the surroundings as if there was nothing wrong in this quaint town.
I was the first person to ski off of the chairlift that day; arriving at the summit of the Blackcomb Mountain, nestled in the heart of Whistler, Canada. It was the type of day when the clouds seemed to blanket the sky, leaving no clue that the sun, with its powerful light, even existed anymore. It was not snowing, but judging by the moist, musty, stale scent in the air, I realized it would be only a short time before the white flakes overtook the mountain. As I prepared myself to make the first run, I took a moment to appreciate my surroundings. Somehow things seemed much different up here. The wind, nonexistent at the bottom, began to gust. Its cold bite found my nose and froze my toes. Its quick and sudden swirling movement kicked loose snow into my face, forcing me to zip my jacket over my chin. It is strange how the gray clouds, which seemed so far above me at the bottom, really did not appear that high anymore. As I gazed out over the landscape, the city below seemed unrecognizable. The enormous buildings which I had driven past earlier looked like dollhouses a child migh...
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.
I think we all have a beautiful place in our mind. I have a wonderful place that made me happy a lot of times, years ago. But sometimes I think that I am the only person who likes this place and I'm asking myself if this place will be as beautiful as I thought when I will go back to visit it again. Perhaps I made it beautiful in my mind.
The city was blinding me with shining lights that you could see from space. It was glistening in the night and dull by day. There were cars parked all alongside the streets and traffic jams every corner.