Descriptive Essay About A House

Driving to Long Prairie, on the right side of the road, up a hill with a long, paved driveway will be a house to the left. This house is two-stories with a basement. The first time I saw it, the house had a worn out, light tan vinyl siding with faded, dark red shutters from years of Minnesota weather. At the end of the driveway was a garage that resembled the houses color. To the right of the driveway was a large stone wall that was overrun with wild grape vines. In the middle of the wall was a stairway that leads to an old, rundown playhouse. Also, there was a large, gray brick shed further away. Beyond the house are the woods, littered with pine needles from the rows of trees my grandpa planted when he moved there. The whole area is surrounded by the overpowering smell of pine, and the silence the woods carries; it brings a calming, peaceful sensation to me. As the years have gone on, the house and I have aged, grown, and changed together.

On a dry hot day in the middle of August, I was awaken to mother’s happy voice saying, “We ‘re here guys!” My excited family and I had just arrived at our two-story brick house at a beautiful resort called “Ding Ding Castle” in Orlando, Florida. My mom, Aunt Wanda, Uncle TJ, cousin Cameron, friend Ronald, Grandmother Doris, Granddad Carlton, sister Kenzie, cousin Kaylan, and I were all planning on staying one long week together. When I got out of the car, I immediately smelled the fresh air and smoke from someone having a barbeque nearby and could taste the fresh grass that had just been finely cut. The bright yellow sun was beaming down on us, making me sweat instantly. I looked around and saw the rows of houses next to each other and noticed that each one had its own personal swimming pool in the back. There were tall palm trees in each yard and every house had new and shiny cars in the driveway. Our house was two stories high and was made of bright red bricks that made it stand out from all of the other houses. The house was surrounded with light green grass and had a porch with dark blue chairs sitting in a row. It was definitely one of the biggest and prettiest houses I had ever seen

“Wow” My mom said glancing to the side of the road and behind a large grey building. “It seems so barren now.” she said shifting her eyes back onto the road, her hair fluffing up as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe they’re chopping down so many trees.” I heard sadness bubbling up in her voice as the traffic light turned green and my mom drove the car forward. I look back at the empty plot of land, a place that used to be packed with trees, trees that had been there for hundreds of years. I watch the desolate yard of stumps fade off behind us as we continue on home. The thoughts still roam around in my head. How many trees does it take before they stop? One more? Ten more? A hundred more? Or will the only reason to stop be the extinction of them as a whole?

Whenever I hear the word home, I immediately think about a small town about an hour northeast of Madison. I was born and raised in this small town and hope to return to or near it after college. Even though I live in Madison now, home to me is Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. My idea about what home is has changed over time due to different life events, such as hard times and going to college to continue my education. The one thing that hasn’t changed though is the place that I consider my home.

My eyes opened slowly and unexpectedly. I yawned and stretched my body out across my mattress, arms out reaching high above my head, getting the joints warm and flexible. I sat up on the bed and looked around the near pitch black space that was my bedroom. My eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness, but I knew where everything was, all committed to memory. My room forms the shape of an L; The door leading into my room opens up to a space five feet wide and it opens up to the rest of my room in a square shape. In the right-hand corner of the room lies my bed against the wall, jet-black sheets covering the bed that I currently sit on with matching pillowcases and a white fleece blanket that wasn’t covering me at the moment, so it was probably on the floor. Next to my bed was my desk, very large and made of redwood, with three drawers on its right side and one under where the middle of the desk was. In the corner opposite of me on the left side of my room was my bookshelf, filled to the brim with all sorts of books, each one I had a very strong fondness for, and on top of it a globe and a random mess of papers, journals and writing utensils that I use for schoolwork. Directly right to the bookshelf was the small wooden nightstand that my 22-inch flat screen TV sat atop, several of my favorite DVDs and video game cases on it as well and on the floor beneath the stand was my Playstation 4 console and my 2 controllers

Many newlyweds usually buy a house or pay to have one built so they can start having children immediately. These houses often contain multiple floors that often contain a final floor called a basement. The many uses of a basement include a bedroom for members of the family, an area to have family time, or a man cave. The Meyer family built a house before the turn of the century a couple minutes away from Main Street St. Charles. The house contained a lower level basement that has proven extremely useful and important to me during my lifetime. From times doing homework to the meals I took down there to consume, the Meyer basement has been a focal point in my life. The five senses are vital to help describe my basement as can be seen by the setup of the few pieces of furniture, the taste of the numerous meals I have delighted myself with, in addition to the many sounds protruding from multiple devices.

When you step into my room, the first thing you will notice is the golden afternoon sunlight fluttering in and dancing around because of the large sycamore trees outside my window. The window is fairly large, as my house is a Cape Cod style home. The reason for the window being so large is that it is one of the primary dormer windows on the second floor that front the street. The window is also set in alcove that is approximately two feet deep, and is framed with white wooden shutters on both sides. I have always been a very optimistic and happy person, and this large window letting in the golden light of nature is a fantastic representation of my personality.

Living in a city can make you forget the outside world. You forget about the green grass, the trees, the chirping birds, the animals, and so many other things the world has to offer. We also forget the people who came before us, who did so much for us, who built everything we have today. We’re so busy doing stuff that is unimportant, that we forget about the stuff that is. Getting a house in Connecticut, made me realize all these things. It made me more in touch with nature and history. I got my country house about 8 years ago, and I think it changed me for the better.

When I was young, I would often dream of becoming a crewmate on a seaworthy vessel, battling high, intimidating and ferocious tides. Apart with having the maneuvering ability to go through tight nooks and crannies to explore uncharted waters. Part of this was due to my imagination, but a large influence was given by my house, which seemed like a fine boat itself. Surrounded by unconstructed houses which seemed like unmapped area, and numerous resemblances to pirate ships such as a flag flying off the balcony, my childhood home was the perfect place for a blooming imagination to run wild.

As you pull into the driveway you see a black mailbox. You see the house is light brown starting on the right side there is a small garage door to the right of that there are three beige large garage doors. As you move to the other side you see a overhang with a tiny bell and a flag over it. Once you move over some more you see some glass four by six windows covering the rest of the front of the house.

It was a dark and spine-chilling night and my friends and I stumbled across a really creepy house. This old house was big and did not have any windows to peek inside of it. I also thought that it looked very ominous, sinister, and abandoned. My friends wanted to check the house out, but I didn’t want to go in. I thought the house looked eerie and ghastly, but they said, “you'll be fine your just a chicken.” I wanted to shriek it looked so scary, but instead, I said, I am not a chicken, I’ll show you. I went into the house by myself… there were COBWEBS, SPIDERS, and BUGS OH MY! I suddenly heard my friends outside talking and I came out to see what the commotion was all about? They were shaking and said, “we don’t want to go into the house anymore,” so I said, ok then just stay outside in the dark and wait for me to finish looking around the house and then we can leave. I said, it may take a little bit for me to finish looking in the house, but they said, “that's ok.” I finished our conversation and then I went back into the house.

I looked back at my house, the green peeling paint on the door, the ripped screen door, the huge window at the top of the house, from which you could see into my room, and I only had one thought, this is no longer my home.

Clink! Bang! Crash! The my closet is overflowing once again. My small house is maybe a little too small. I walked to the kitchen to get something to eat. I see the kitchen closet is overflowing with pots and pans, again. The kitchen has a polished wooden floor easy to slip on if you're wearing socks. Our kitchen is small, but big enough to put items on the shining counter. I looked out to our backyard, I spot some fluffy looking white bunnies hopping along, eating the carrots I left out for them. I dragged my body down the long hallway to my mother and father's room. I complain, “This house doesn't have enough space!” My parents look at each other with a depressed look and sigh, “ We need to find a new house.”

When I first moved in there was a small crack in my wall, it wasn't so small that it was easily ignored but it wasn't particularly large. It was supposed to be filled in once I was fully settled into my new room. It never was. Every night I would stare into that crack in the wall, sometimes only for a few hours, sometimes until I could see the rays of sunshine filtering into my room through my window. Every night as I stared into my fractured wall I felt the minor gap in my wall stare back at me as I waited for sleep to encompass me. For almost five years, that crack in my wall was there as a reminder. Reminder for what? A reminder that sometimes there's only so much stress something can take before it begins to crack.

The house that was in the middle of the country with miles of land and nobody seen or heard. The house used to be seen every Friday. It had a gravel driveway that seemed a mile long, grass cut perfectly, and the smell of fresh air all around. There was a massive tree in the front yard that was the size of a skyscraper, that the kids used to play on. You would see the cute brown house on the hill. The house that seemed so big when I was a kid, but the bigger I got, the smaller the house seemed to become. My Grandma’s house was like going to a museum because it always had things to look at and explore.