One of the fondest, most memorable places from my childhood has to be Crested Butte, Colorado, where my family and I use to vacation. Every single time I remember back to that place, I can’t help but smile as I recall the memories associated with that magical white paradise. From the drive up into Colorado, seeing beautiful, white-capped mountains off in the distance, to building snow forts with my sister rivaling King Arthur’s castle. There couldn’t have been another place I’d rather find myself in the winter time. This story begins with the excited feelings associated with knowing that something is about to unfold before your eyes. My imagination ran completely wild with thoughts of what an enchanting, winter wonderland I would soon experience. …show more content…
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 …show more content…
I sipped slowly on a cup of hot chocolate after the sun set, and pondered in my head what my first activity might be when I woke up in the morning. Should I build an impenetrable snow fort inspired by images of Minas Tirith? Or perhaps amass a pile of snowballs to use for the inevitable war that I would start with my sister. Quickly I became distracted by the beautiful, handcrafted wood which formed the dwelling. The rich orange and distressed brown mixed perfectly to create something so easy on the eyes, I had difficulty comprehending how it came to be. The smooth and flawless texture led me to run a hand over to test for splinters. The smell of the wood was intertwining with smells from the fireplace, the kitchen and my cup of hot chocolate. All of these sensations came together to form a feeling of tenderness, akin to a mother’s embrace. I never wanted to return back home. I had discovered a place so perfect, so inviting and peaceful, I vowed to never return to the familiarity of home. This was only the first day with vastly more to look forward
The freezing wind had chilled my hand to the bone. Even as I walked into my cabin, I shivered as if there was an invisible man shaking me. My ears, fingers, toes, and noes had turned into a pale purple, only starting to change color once I had made a fire and bundled myself in blankets like ancient Egyptians would do to their deceased Pharaohs. The once powdered snow on my head had solidified into a thin layer of ice. I changed out of the soaking wet clothes I was wearing and put on new dry ones. With each layer I became more excited to go out and start snowboarding. I headed for the lift with my board and my hand. Each step was a struggle with the thick suit of snow gear I was armored in.
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
The snow floats down from the heavens on to earth painting it glistening white. Just like the named implies whitechapel is covered in a blanket of white snow. Catherine Eddowes walks home then she spots the local newspaper boy “Hey Missus, care for this morning's paper?” “Yes, boy, how many pounds will this be?” ”Just one pound, Missus.” “Thank you, boy,” she throws a coin to the young boy. The boy hides the coin in his hat and scurries off into the shadows of a dark alleyway. Catherine sits down on a bench nearby. One of the articles state that a woman’s body has been found on Bucks Row in Whitechapel. Her throat had been slit twice from left to right, her abdomen mutilated with one deep wound. A chill runs down Catherine's spine, she is not sure if it is from the cold or from the article she just read. She puts down the newspaper and rushes off to her quarters. She takes out a bottle of whiskey when she gets home to calm herself from the stressful day at work and the article she just read. She sits down at the counter taking out a glass to pour the whiskey in she drinks glass after glass. Her hands start to shake rapidly she taps the table repeatedly the melody of her fingernail hitting the wood echos throughout the house like a ticking clock. Tick, tick, tick the sound echos until it finally stops. The whiskey is starting to take effect on her. She feels dizzy. She decides to take her medication to stop the throbbing pain in her head. Catherine makes haste towards the restroom but, upon opening the medicine cabinet she finds that her pill bottle is lacking the pills. Clutching her head and moaning in pain she decides to go to the pharmacy. She walks through the crowd of people swaying side to side through the waves of pedestr...
The Sandia Mountains named after a watermelon in Spanish because of the red light that shines over them in the evening. Located in Albuquerque, New Mexico, it’s great for an afternoon hike. We decide to drive to the mountains and arrived at around 2 pm.
My family and I reached the top of the mountain and hopped off the gondola and the light blinded me. I nearly fell down the steps to the snow-covered mountain. It took a while for my eyes to adjust, but as soon as they did, I realized why it was so bright. Because of the snow from the previous night and the wind at the top of the mountain, the snow particles were flying through the air. I had never seen something so beautiful in my entire life. As I was soaring above the blanket of clouds, the light was reflecting off the flying snowflakes, giving the illusion of a sparkling blanket as far as the eye could see. My dad had to get a picture of the sparkling snow, and me, and I now have that photo framed in my room sitting on my dresser. Every morning I wake up and think about how beautiful the earth we live on is, and how the most insignificant things can have a greater
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
Have you ever seen snow before? That white fluffy stuff that covers the ground completely. Well if you have, I am sure you have overcome an obstacle in your life and have reached something “irreplaceable and beautiful” (102). Just like Sister Zoe had said when she saw that snow falling from the sky. This story was very enlightening because the way the author brought in herself and portrayed herself through the character Yolanda was very intriguing. She brought the subject to life in many ways. However, the author of “Snow” uses two specific elements, its symbolism and its character to prove how overtime one individual will be able to overcome obstacles. Not only does theses elements point this out but the narrator also makes an impact of the reader as well.
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.
captive by a sheath of frost, as were the glacial branches that scraped at my windows, begging to get in. It is indeed the coldest year I can remember, with winds like barbs that caught and pulled at my skin. People ceaselessly searched for warmth, but my family found that this year, the warmth was searching for us.
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.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
We slowly crept around the corner, finally sneaking a peek at our cabin. As I hopped out of the front seat of the truck, a sharp sense of loneliness came over me. I looked around and saw nothing but the leaves on the trees glittering from the constant blowing wind. Catching myself standing staring around me at all the beautiful trees, I noticed that the trees have not changed at all, but still stand tall and as close as usual. I realized that the trees surrounding the cabin are similar to the being of my family: the feelings of never being parted when were all together staying at our cabin.
For those who like winter sports like skiing and snowboarding, we have just the perfect place- the remote yet very popular mountain resort called Balea Lake.
This area of the world is so foreign to my Oklahoma life; it infuses me with awe, and with an eerie feeling of being strongly enclosed by huge mountains, and the mass of tall trees. However, when my foot first steps onto the dusty trail it feels crazily magical. The clean, crisp air, the new smell of evergreen trees and freshly fallen rain is mixed with fragrances I can only guess at. It is like the world has just taken a steroid of enchantment! I take it all in, and embrace this new place before it leaves like a dream and reality robs the moment. As I turn and look at my family, I was caught by my reflection in their impressions. The hair raising mischief in the car was forgotten and now it was time to be caught up in this newness of life. It was as if the whole world around us had changed and everyone was ready to engulf themselves in it. The trickling of water somewhere in the distance and the faint noise of animals all brought the mountains to