Descriptive Essay On My Dream House

Imagine you are driving down the road through the country, and you turn off to the right onto a dirt road. You follow the dirt road through a wooded area, and you see a light at the other end, similar to being in a tunnel. When you arrive at the end of the woods, the dirt road comes out into an open field. As you look around the property, there is a large two-story house, beautiful built, with a wooden swing on the porch. You look up and behind this house is the base of a mountain. You cannot see the top for being in the car. You stop the car and look around and wonder whose property this is…

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.

First of all, my house would be in the woods, away from everyone else. I would also live in a modern looking log cabin. It has always been a dream of mine to live in a log cabin. I also want to live in a modern house, so if you mix the two together, that would just be perfect for me. I think that if you live in the woods, which is secluded from everyone else, with a few friends, life would be perfect. My house would be a two story, modern looking log cabin with lights all around the outside so it would look beautiful at night.

Joker jogged around to the back of the large home, keeping an eye on the windows for movement. He was still surprised that they hadn 't greeted in some manner after landing. A garage door, accessed by the sloping driveway, was set in the basement wall. A quick

When I open the formal front door I am immediately greeted by open sight line from the living room, through to the kitchen, and

The yard was nicely mowed and a small tree, when we walked in the house there was stairs within about 5 feet from the door and to the left there was the living room and to the right there was a hallway with a bathroom and storage space under the stairs, at the end of the hallway was the kitchen.

The old house was losing part of its skin producing tiny, white flakes arranged around the yard, and the shingles on top of the roof were trying to hang on the best they could. I took my first step towards the front door walking up the sturdy, metal bicycle ramp, noticing the tiny slots that allowed you to view what was beneath you. When I raised my head I realized the front door had not changed at all, the orange paint was still faded and was starting to show more white but not much. It was as if someone took orange watercolor to a piece of paper. The polished door knob twisted as I opened the door releasing a familiar,

As humans, we associate the word isolation with negative feelings. And being told I was moving to a foreign island across the world that I had never previously heard of had me chalking up isolation negatively as well. The island is very small and doesn’t have all the resources that can be found here in America and you have to take a plane just to get to mainland Japan. My experiences with this isolation over four years altered Okinawa into what I now consider to be my home. My home is a secluded island that shaped me as a person by providing me with the tools and distance to educate different aspects of not only my life, but others as well.

Home, the place one spends more time in their life and share special moments with family. Where one expects to live permanently carefree, feel protected under the roof of their house. One day I want to have a home that makes me feel well and where I can be safe and happy. The purpose of this essay is to discuss and fine structural decisions I made about designing my dream house.

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.

As I draw near to the island on which my dream house awaits, I catch a quick glance of it out of the corner of my eye. It is humongous, and is the most noticeable building in the area. My private steel, elegant jet lands on the octagonal air strip next to the house. I get out of the jet the wind was whistling and blowing my hair back as I started my journey through a heavily wooded path leading to my dream house. I walk with anxiety toward the house at which I will spend the rest of my life. All around me lay the most beautiful gigantic trees and yellow miniature plants I have ever seen. It is peaceful but I can hear the sounds of birds chirping and small forest creatures frolicking in the underbrush. As I continue to walk along the

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.

As I am walking home from school I take the time to look around my surroundings. Leaves a variety of reds, oranges and yellows descend from the trees and encase the ground like a blanket. The wind begins to pick up, building miniature vortexes with the leaves and dropping them off to their new locations. There is not much to Stowe, Vermont: a couple of convenience stores, a few diners scattered, parks and widely spaces houses that stretch down for a few miles. Extravagant would not be the leading word to describe this town, but I love it nonetheless.

Now that i’m actually thinking about the entirety of my childhood, it seems kind of crazy that i’m at the point where i’m at now. I remember when I was about nine years old, I thought to myself, “It will feel like forever until I start driving.” It’s crazy to think now that I’m only less than a month away from getting my license. And it feels like only yesterday that I was nine years old. Time seems like it really does fly sometimes.

flower print shirts with black dress pants. She has hair that is as thick as a mop but yet still black and silky, with beautiful hazel brown eyes.