Descriptive Essay Example

Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.

this water to survive, and our loved ones at home worried sick wondering if we are even still alive. Then again the view a had while doing this wasn’t all that bad. Most likely a better view than what I would have originally had at the resort we were heading to.

The storm I witnessed was Hurricane Sandy. When I first heard of the hurricane I thought it wouldn't be as bad as some people were prediciting, but as the storm approached I certainly changed my mind. As we sat in the house it became very real how bad the storm was going to be. It was scary to hear the wind howling; blowing the trees around, hearing branches falling and the windows rattling. Hurricane Sandy left a lot of desvesation and distruction not only in New Jersey but in the Tri- State and surrounding areas. the storm left many

The morning air seeped through the open window as the newly rising sun glowed on the barren rock landscape dome. It wasn’t so barren though, there was small house that laid nestled in the rocks. The house was more like a small shackled shed than an actually house. The house was small and simple, made out of wood equipped with a chicken coop and garden. The house was had one room. In the room was a fireplace, coal burning stove, table for two, and a twin sized bed shoved in the corner. The bed was unmade and a man stood at the stove making his morning breakfast of eggs.

Christopher’s interpretation of the picturesque stone house being encroached on by the mass of trees surrounding the perimeter shows his interaction with nature and reinforces his paranoid feelings towards

Through the use of juxtaposition, the author attempts to represent the complexity of the human mind. The story takes place at an old mansion in a secluded part of town, surrounded by a “delicious garden” (Perkins 130). The narrator describes the home to have been “long untenanted” (Perkins 129) and have a haunted appearance, which leads to create the image of a shabby-looking establishment. Such juxtaposing qualities of the setting could be said to represent the narrator’s own mind; the garden symbolizing freedom and happiness and the house symbolizing her neglected mental

A black sedan pulled down the rainy, one-lane country avenue and up the circular drive to the foreboding home. It was a large house, not large enough to be considered a manor, but still, with its three stories, it was an impressive, albeit faded, display of period architecture. The house sat upon a hillock where the car came to a stop, and the driver’s door opened.

It is mine. The golden sun that shines and kisses the tops of my shoulders. The wisps of white clouds traveling within a baby blue sky. The gentle breeze that coils itself around my arms providing relief from the warming sun. The sapphire sea and its serene waves rolling gently out to shore onto the finely grained sand. It is all mine.

Noke took the Woodside Road exit from the highway and drove through a lovely neighborhood with tree lined streets and single story, cottage style homes with front lawns and established gardens. Ellen and I had never lived in a house before, I was excited at the prospect of living in a dwelling where we could walk out the front door and not have to walk down flights of stairs before reaching the outside. Eventually, Noke pulled into a driveway along a home with an open gate leading to lavender hydrangeas blooming in a garden with an inviting front porch and, as he shut off the engine of the car, he announced, “We are here. You are home!”

Speeding around the corner, I see the dilapidated house has taken one more step toward total ruin, the cemetery has a few new headstones, and Mamaw’s house looks exactly the same. The single story white brick house sits alone on the right side of Miller Road and the yard is alive with flowers, trees, and invisible-from-a-distance fire ant-piles. I pull in the driveway and park to the side of the house under the shade of the massive pecan tree. The crunch of squirrel-cracked shells sounds beneath my feet. I smile at the familiarity of it all as the storm door thunks shut behind me. My nose is assaulted by the smell of fresh biscuits and starched laundry. Bright light floods into the empty family room from the porch, and I know I am home.

It was a cool November morning when I arrived at my new home. The wind was blowing the birds were chirping and the trees were dancing in the cool autumn breeze. Many things have happened to and in this house and this is an account of these events.

My most vivid memories of the house are during the bitter months of winter, but they are the warmest memories I have. I see it like a Christmas postcard in my mind: a large yet cozy brick house blanketed in a layer of pure white snow, candles radiating a warm glow from the windowsills. Rustic sconces illuminate the front door, adorned with a wreath that shouts Christmas. Through the window, a humble but lovely Christmas tree can be standing as a proclamation to the impending festivities. As I approach the house, the smells of home engulf me: the crisp

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.

As I approached the front porch, to the right of the porch was a small garden, which was located below a window, and both the front porch and the garden were covered by a big, pointy fence. To my left the garage door would stand, which I’ve never seen open. Finally in between the garden and the garage stood a door. The door lead to my excitement, so I rushed up to the front porch, opening the gate and walking up 2 big steps, to awaiting my grandmother standing by the door, waiting to greed me. My grandparents’ home was the most important thing in my life, this place is all I recognize from the time I lived in Peru.

It feels like I have just walked out of a movie theatre in mid-day as my eyes try to adjust to the bright rays of the sun. As my sight returns I see an abundance of trees and bushes. Their leaves turned gold, red, and orange form the chilling weather. To the left a garden grows, full of fruits and vegetables. On the right a trellis stands with grape vines entangled in its frame. From the trellis a trial will lead you to a small stone well. With each stone a different size and the little tin roof tilted just slightly, you can tell it was built by unknowing hands. The house is a small log cabin sitting just one story high. There are colorful flowers covering the window seals giving life to the dull brown of the cabin. A chimney sits towards the back right of the house with a stream of smoke drifting from inside. We begin to walk a small gravel path, each rock stings my feet with their shape edges. The sides of the path are decorated with solar light sticking