A Picture Of The Kancamagus Highway

Vibrant hues of orange and yellow were smeared together and they played with violent shades of red. The rising sun rested in a bed of golden rose, cotton clouds. Its rays of light spilling over the hills like pale orange paint. At least, that's what I imagined this sunrise would look like in a world without skyscrapers and other assorted buildings suffocating the horizon, sucking the life out of the beauty that nature gives us, and replacing it with smoke, oil, and the stench of our ever growing need to expand. Our need, humanity's need to leave no blade of grass behind, to cover every inch of the earth with pollution and man made roads and structures, is what is destroying the beauty that nature provides.

The enchanted forest pulsed in, it’s ancient heartbeat, the deep, haunting song sweeping through the swaying leaves. The woody incense of thousands of leaves and branches matting the forest floor filled the air and dominated our nostrils. Soon, the branches will bend to the will of the whispering wind, allowing the sun to fill every nook and cranny with its the lustrous, golden light, illuminating the full grandeur of a forest that is steeped in plushness and opulence. But for now, the sprawling limbs of centuries-old trees still guarded the darkness, blotting out most of the gentle rays of dawn’s light.

In this passage, Prose gives the reader his feelings and attitude towards nature. Giving off the impression that she has respect and dedication for it. She releases a positive message towards the subject and believes that it is a necessity for life. Throughout this passage the author uses effective figurative language and imagery. Nature can only be seen and felt by certain people. And when they are able to see nature it is a blissful and tranquil image. The wilderness has much more to offer than is the streets.

The narrator shares this story from his youth in the words of an educated man. His actions as a teen are in stark contrast to his phraseology as an adult. Early in the story, he viewed “nature” as sex, drugs and rock and roll (Boyle 112-113). However, as the story ends and the turmoil subsides, the narrator sees nature for the first time, through the eyes of a person matured by this traumatic experience. The “sun firing buds and opening blossoms” replaced the once revered beer and

The scenes journey along the Appalachian Trail captures the true magnificence and greatness of the eastern U.S. of wilderness. Starting in the Deep South at the foothills of the smoky mountains, this journey overwhelms one with southern beauty while also making one experience the South’s legendary simplicity and retreat from the urban gridlock of modern society. The Appalachian Trail’s scenery attracts many people from all over the world to witness it for them. Causing many people to come with their families and possibly volunteer.

Driving down the Franconia Notch Parkway, the mountain walls rise up around me and consume me. On one side, the guardrail separates me from the cars speeding past in the opposite direction. On the other side, nothing is separating me from the slopes. My eyes slowly follow the smooth curvature of the faces of the mountains. Wind, rain, snow, and ice have shaped the rock in such a way that the rock looks like silk sheets. As my eyes take in more, they come across the sharp jagged edges and ridges where rocks have recently fallen and taken parts of the mountain as their casualties. The sun peeks from behind the summit and causes the great mountains to cast shadows on their smaller counterparts. Crimson, goldenrod, bronze, and saffron leaves dance across the air as the cool gusts of wind blow them along. Soon the trees will become bare and blend with the barren slopes above the treeline, but for now the contrast between the two is unmistakably noticeable.

The clearing was quiet, it seemed lifeless. The Salinas River still flowed merrily near the hillside. The water was still warm from the afternoon sun, and still reflected a green hue. On one side of the river, the smooth foothill slopes still curved up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, and the other side was still lined with trees. The willows and sycamore branches still swung gently in the wind, and the leaves still created a green light within the space. It was totally calm and peaceful… but something was wrong. The air seemed heavier, and the sun seemed dimmer. No animals stirred, and everything seemed to be aware of a deep sadness. Nothing moved save for a small group of men standing around an unmoving figure.

Just this past summer, under the hot, and sticky sun, we pushed our car to the limit, on our 1,000 mile journey to the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, although in actuality we might have pushed our fears to the absolute limit. Flipping through the Colorado vacation brochure proved to have posed some interesting vacation destinations, such as "Big Bear Lake" and Trail Ridge Road. With the intent to get high in the sky, our family headed out the next morning to Trail Ridge Road, which is a road that takes you up to a staggering height of 12,000 feet. Although optimistic, we imagined of the vast fields of green, the glacier-topped mountains, and the valleys that undertake the them. As we climbed up to the peak, it seemed apparent that there

The storm had passed. Norval Gilmer careened the air cab to skim along the craggy mountain range past the Terra borough’s greenhouses in the south. Since he studied geology at Gnaritus University, he enthusiastically drew Surina’s attention to the unusual topography in the picturesque hinterland on the way to Algonquin Beach. Through the sunroof of the air cab, she glimpsed the congregation of the three suns, Spes’ rings, Fiducia, and Clementia in the endless turquoise sky. Suddenly, as they moved further south, the jaw-dropping view of the rainbow mountain materialized with its dazzling stripes of gold, black, green, orange, red, blue, and purple. Moreover, a soft alpenglow shrouded the snowy peaks.

The suns rays, blazing down onto the sand of New Mexico. Mirages appearing appearing on the horizon in such fine detail, you could reach and grab onto them. The sand slowly blowing across the harsh landscape, the bushes swaying slightly, trees were sparse, and life was all buried away. The gigantic mountains covered the backdrop of the landscape, they seemed to be reaching straight for the sky.

As a child, during many of my families travels, we went through the Appalachian Mountains through West Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee. These places were breathtaking. The rolling hills and deep green forestry stood with such enchantment. About 25 years later my family went on a vacation through this same area. The visions I saw were not ones of enchantment, but ones of nightmares and utter despair. It was desolate and hollow. Tears rolling down my

These vast structures form a striking craggy and alpine scenery that carries on for miles upon miles, further than the eye can see. Their soaring altitudes make one seem like a microscopic and insignificant atom in comparison. Their imperfect texture and surreal span suggest a brimming and diverse wildlife. The sounds of animals calling out into the distance creates a harmonious symphony, a beautiful melody that is impossible to replicate. The distant cries of animals seem to be directly addressing you, as if pleading to be heard by a single

As I left behind the somber forest, I now recognized an appreciation for nature that I did not realize I had. I now knew there was more to nature than just trees and animals, but also I found the

The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.

I observe majestic beauty in the giant ominous mountains looming high above the sky, such as a stairway to the heavens for all those to gaze upon in grand awe. In the serene image of the clouds, white and puffy much the same as cotton candy