The street I live on has a lot of houses on it, and mine just happens to be one of them. Each house has its own driveway each one unique in its own way. Most of them are paved driveways, but mine happens to be made from hard pack. I can picture the driveway when it was built, still in the same place and still being made of rocks. The driveway to my house is a narrow driveway about as wide as one and ½ car widths. The driveway separates my house from my neighbors and serves as a place to park cars. It’s not perfect and doesn’t appear to have been made by professionals. It doesn’t have sharp clean edges, instead it just fades away at the ends. Its composition is not uniform. Millions of small rocks scattered throughout the driveway, each rock varying in size from a grain of sand, to a small stone the size of a ping-pong ball. Each rock varying in color, size, shape, and type of rock making each one unique. A strip of grass runs down the length of one side forming a boundary between the driveway and my neighbor’s house. A small concrete wall runs down the length of the driveway closest to my house and extends out a couple feet. On the wall is a pit of white colored gravel which is used for drainage. This allows rain dripping from the roof to land in a gravel pit instead of allowing rain to erode the surface of the driveway. It has some weeds growing along the edges that sometimes invade bits of the driveway sprouting up in almost random locations nowhere near the grass.
In my lifetime, I have lived in 4 different homes. None of them can even compare to the very first home I lived in, in my hometown of Allentown, Pennsylvania. It was a quaint duplex home that was on a tranquil street underneath a towering maple tree. Nothing will ever be able to replace its permanent spot in my heart.
It was an unusual quiet evening at my favorite diner. I always loved meeting my beautiful wife here after a long day of work to get some of Chicago’s best coffee. Upon opening the front door, the welcoming smell of freshly ground coffee fills my nostrils as I take a deep breath, but at the same time, I lose my breath as I spot my stunning wife waiting for me. She was wearing a vibrant red dress, as she knows that it’s my favorite, while her hair shimmered in the light.
You can improve your unattractive driveway by careful landscape sculpting and selecting right materials and plants. You can start on the driveway’s center by making slightly elevated island of lawn. Then, plant annuals, roses, and perennials behind the low boxwood hedge. But see to it that it is higher than the hedge. Blend it with variety of heights, textures, and colors for astonishing
occupied by shooting water-balloons over the house. Like a skillful mortar crew, we first scouted out a suitable target. Then, after careful calculations and tedious positioning, we proceeded to send a projectile lofting over the roof toward the street, where it would subsequently crash down onto the roof of my neighbor’s Pontiac Bonneville, the hollow, metallic thud letting us know we had hit our mark. However, after about twenty minutes of this, when we had perfected the technique to our satisfaction, we struck upon another brilliant idea. You see, my backyard culminates in a massive hill that was formed when Interstate 255 was built. The highway service road, Kinswood Lane, sits directly atop the hill, and just over its crest is the highway.
Set on a ridge overlooking the beautiful Olympic mountains -you will truly love this unique home. A blend of Japanese and northwestern architecture gives the house a perfect feel for a relaxing yoga retreat or any vacation. With its traditional Tatami room and spectacular Japanese blue tile roof this spacious home will give you the sublime rest and rejuvenation that you deserve!
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.
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.
As I opened the way to the dreadful old frequented house on my road, I began to surmise that perhaps this wasn't such a smart thought. I admonished myself for needing to turn back, and reluctantly ventured inside to investigate. My darker hair and dim dark colored eyes made me for all intents and purposes cover in the wood-framed anteroom, aside from my old dim hooded sweatshirt and agreeable red sweat pants. I was normal tallness for eleven, however I was all the while must admire check for spider webs. I needed to clean my glasses since so much tidy had gathered on them. My hair required washed as of now since so much tidy has gathered on it. As I strolled through the entryway on my right side, I understood this must be the formal fining room. An old, Victorian style table with eight rich seats was clearly the point of convergence of the room, laying on an excellent green, gold, and red conditioned cover. The hardwood flooring around it composed immaculately with the covering, which came roughly 33% of the path up the exquisite gold-painted divider. The tremendous picture window was confined by a custom bureau with a smorgasbord coming to simply beneath the windowsill. My heart was beating, and the room noticed dusty, smelly, and faintly of roses. On the table there was a substantial bunch of red roses, and eight green, red, and gold place mats. Another red rose, each in a thin vase, sat at each place. I chose to look through the bureau by the window to check whether
One hundred miles could take me a long ways from home. I could end up in the big city down south, or I could choose to head north to the heartland of Minnesota. If I go just the right direction, one hundred miles will take me right back home. How could that be? There is a small place just south of Grand Rapids, Minnesota, that I consider to be my second home. I call it Bear Camp. It consists of a very rough and bumpy driveway that leads to a small opening in the woods. There is a small fire pit in the center of the campsite that has been overflowing with ashes for years. My family and I usually go there, along with some family friends, to get away. An outsider would think that it is just an open, overgrown prairie, but when we all visit, this place becomes our home.
On Sindall Road, in Cheshire, Connecticut there is a blue house with white shudders, it stands partly on a hill, and was built many years ago. The living room has huge wooden beams that lay across the ceiling. The bedrooms are not big, but not small, as appropriate to the time period that the house was built. The ceilings are very low, and the stairways are very steep. The house has different pieces of furniture that are from different time periods. There is a brook running by and on the other side is a river. I saw the house for the first time after buying it. We drove up in the gravel driveway, and got out of the car, it was one day before my birthday, so I guess you could say that it was an early birthday present. The first thing I said after looking around a bit was, “I think I’ll need a GPS to find my way around this house!” My parents laughed, and I was able to find my way…eventually. As I explored I
There is one thing that is common in most small, rural Southern towns; appliances on the porch. From deep-freezers to washing machines, if there’s not room in the house you can guarantee there is room on the porch and an extension cord long enough to plug it in. No one thinks it’s unusual as everyone in the neighborhood does it. That’s especially true for the humble, one-stop-light town I was brought up in. The house I lived in my entire childhood had a deep-freezer on the back porch; my second cousin, who lived next door, had a wringer washing machine on her front porch. That washing machine would lead to an incident involving a shotgun, scissors, a trip to the ER and a lifetime of jokes.
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.
It was 1973. No just kidding. It is 2017 I have just moved into a new house. At my old house, there was a playground in my backyard. We made it all by ourselves, from scratch. We had to leave it at the house because of two things, the buyers wanted it and it wouldn't fit in the moving truck. Also at my old house we had 3 rooms, and my mom and dad had to sleep in the garage. The house was a simple house. It has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen,and a garage, that doesn't open but it. Still works as a bedroom.
Linda Bennett once said “Our homes represent more than our financial assets; they have a deep and unique emotional meaning. Our earliest memories of home are often connected to our childhood.” To me home is where my family is, it’s where I was raised. No matter how far away you move from your home, it will always mean as much to you now as it did back then. Everyone’s home is the building block of the foundation of their future development as a person.
According to Dictionary.com, a house is a building in which people live, but a house is not that simple. Each room in a house serves a unique purpose, and that purpose can vary from household to household. A family’s use of their home can shape personalities and form the aspirations of its members. For me, my home is a place where I have made so many memories and built strong relationships with my family.