The visual surrounding the lake was perceived before the mountains was beautiful and serene. The lavender flowers near the water mirroring the colossal mountains smelled of spring. The sunset illuminated the sky making it purple and orange. The huge rocks were faultless and could be used for sitting and thinking. The warm breeze reassured that springtime was near. The lake was ideal for swimming, it was so clear. The cabins around the lake were perfect for summertime with family and friends. The clouds looked impeccable as they were angled over the mountains, their rectangular shapes resembled fluffy pillows. The snow had almost completely melted off the mountain in the distance. The environment was well needed for break within a busy life.
The dusty area around the dirty lake was a home to mosquitos. They were present and ready to cover a human with red bumps. The small amount of purple flowers showed that no life capacity was able to survive near this lake. It was grass only in certain spots. The mountain behind the lake were covered in snow and the area surrounding the lake was cold, but the constant breeze would send a chill down any person’s spine. The big bulky rocks near the surface were uneven and seemed to be able to make a person fall if they were to barely step on it. The grass had grown about knee high and the whole environment looked unkempt. The air rid of bug spray and the cabins had begun eroding.
In the essay “Once More to the Lake,” E.B. White, uses diction and syntax to reveal the main character’s attitude towards the lake in Maine. He has an uncertain attitude towards the lake throughout the essay because he is unsure of who he is between him and his son. On the ride there White, pondering, remembering old memories, keeps wondering if the lake is going to be the same warm place as it was when he was a kid. The lake is not just an ordinary lake to White, it’s a holy spot, a spot where he grew up every summer. “I wondered how time would have marred this unique, this holy spot-the coves and streams, the hills that the sun set behind, the camps and the paths behind the camps” (29). White’s diction and syntax
Nature has a powerful way of portraying good vs. bad, which parallels to the same concept intertwined with human nature. In the story “Greasy Lake” by T. Coraghessan Boyle, the author portrays this through the use of a lake by demonstrating its significance and relationship to the characters. At one time, the Greasy Lake was something of beauty and cleanliness, but then came to be the exact opposite. Through his writing, Boyle demonstrates how the setting can be a direct reflection of the characters and the experiences they encounter.
This vacation spot White describes through memories of his boyhood days always seemed to be so wonderful no matter what had gone wrong. White recalls the time when "[his] father rolled over in a canoe" and another time when "[they] all got ringworm" but none of this mattered in the long run, after all, this was the best place on earth. To White the mountain lake is seen as "constant and trustworthy", and on the trip back there with his own son, White wondered if "time would have marred" the appearance of the lake. Thoughts of the time spent there summer after summer continued to revisit White throughout the trip and everything from thunderstorms to the stillness of the water
The story opens by embracing the reader with a relaxed setting, giving the anticipation for an optimistic story. “…with the fresh warmth of a full summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green (p.445).”
When the day came to leave I was woken at the crack of dawn. I was keen to get to Blackpool as swiftly as possible, not only for the football that was ahead of us but also for the famous Pleasure Beach. The coach picked us up at around 8 am and in we crammed into an already full coach. The journey down was full of laughter and friendly joking from the parents. That day, it was particularly hot and inside the coach a number of people were becoming uncomfortable. I was unaffected by the warmth inside the coach, with my earphones in I relaxed and paid more attention to the vast countryside we were passing through. The vivid scenery blew me away, with colossal hills to calm rivers that we met on the journey.
Steinbeck begins the story by creating a serene mood when describing the setting. He illustrates how the Salinas River looks, and stating that “the water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool. On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong and rocky Gabilan mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees—willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf junctures the debris of the winter’s flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool” (1). Steinbeck’s word choice alone (“twinkling,” “golden,” and “fresh and green”) makes the setting appealing to the reader. The peaceful mood is created through the way he closely describes every detail; the images that the reader follows are animated and picturesque. He uses such a long sentence with semi-colons, commas, and dashes to make the passage flow smoothly, as opposed to choppy. The run-on like syntax he uses creates a comfortable feeling, showing that the Salinas River and everything surrounding it is an undisturbed area; the...
First, White uses imagery throughout his essay to create an effective visual of his experiences at the lake. To start his essay, White reflects on his childhood memories of the lake when he and his family visited every summer: “I remembered clearest of all the early morning, when the lake was cool and motionless, remembered how the bedroom smelled of the lumber it was made of and the wet woods whose scent entered the screen.” This passage enhances
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
What does it mean to be “bad”? In his short story “Greasy Lake”, T. Coraghessan Boyle writes: “There was a time when chivalry and winning ways went out of style, when it was good to be bad”. Being “bad” can mean dressing uniquely and acting differently, but there is a line between being a “bad” character and being truly “bad”. When that line is crossed unfortunate things happen to the character. Boyle uses the setting of Greasy Lake to show how a teenage wasteland can lead to moral decay.
The area was crisp and wet, but beautiful. The moss and trees were a vibrant kelly green, creating a startling contrast to the brown and orange leaves on the bushes and ground. The sky was a dismal grey, but the rain that it brought created a clean smell of eucalyptus, oak, mints, and oddly enough, mud. It was the first time that I really
I step into the cold, chilling air letting the wind brush against my face as I look around and see what is before me. I look into the distance and see rolling mountains dancing across the scenery. They are painted in mesmeric reds and different shades of orange all reminding me of an enthralling sunset. Snow falls, literally everywhere covering these rocks not revealing how massive they truly are. The whole scene reminds me of a Christmas card. It captivates your soul. I had was one single destination on my mind and I took a chance and it led me to Colorado Springs, Colorado.
My childhood trips to Lake Michigan form part of my identity as a Michigander. Lake Michigan is a system of five, fresh water lakes dubbed the great lakes. Four out of the five great Lakes surround the state of Michigan; as a result most Michiganders travel a nearby Great Lake in the summer. Like other Michiganders, my family heads to Lake Michigan every summer to spend time on Lake Michigan. My Grandmother purchased a trailer by the Lakeshore and allowed her eight children to spend a week of summer on the Lakeshore. Over the years my vacations on Lake Michigan shaped great memories for me.
As one would expect, the scenery was the first thing that caught my attention. The weather was so beautiful yet deceiving. The sun was shining brightly, but it seemed like it was doing nothin...
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...