Descriptive Essay On The House

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.

Everyone has a “dream house”, they just rely on your opinions and beliefs. You can have a modern dream house, or maybe a vintage dream house. You can also either live in the woods, in the city, or even right by the beach! You can be by yourself, or you can have lots and lots of roommates. You can have lots of neighbors, or maybe even none at all! You could live off of a mountain, or maybe on a paved street.

Another issue I have to reflect on is tax deductions on mortgage interest rates. I think such a deduction would hinder the benefits of owning a home. If tax deduction on mortgage interest was to be removed then the after-tax cost would increase which would reduce housing prices.  The removal of such a tax might entice me to buy a bigger home and then borrow beyond my means. This tax cut could discourage me from becoming a homeowner as well. As I mentioned earlier in this paper, incentives may encourage me to reevaluate my decisions. When a government offers tax credits it can be considered a benefit that will out-weigh the cost.

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.

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!

It was 1973. No just kidding. It is 2017 At my old house, there was a playground in my backyard. We made it all by our selves, 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.

The nipping cold hits my face as I stroll through the woods looking for the cabin that I grew up in. When I trudge through the crunchy snow it makes a sound like it is October with the crisp fallen leaves underneath my feet. Up ahead I soon spot the cabin made out of walnut wood. It looks so magnificent sitting up on top of the hill with the sun beaming its glistening rays from behind on each side. As I enter through the wooden gate surrounding the house I recall all the memories of Christmases before that were made in this house. I remember the good smells and sounds from years past and hope that they come back this year.

It was a fresh afternoon when I accompanied my best friend to visit my grandparents in countryside – Ben Tre, where is well-known as a tranquil place. Those days, I live with my beloved cousin; she was a girl of tender-hearted, tolerant and lenient aspects. At her will, she ushered me and my friend to observe how developed our countryside is.

When I was walking home from school I saw a house. This was no ordinary house I said to my friend. He agreed because the house was so eerie. When we walked by it something moved and a box fell. When we saw that, we booked it and ran down the street to my house. When we got inside we decided to go have a look inside. When we asked my mom if we could she said NO. We were still planning on going inside anyways. So the next day we are going to go inside and stay the night there. We told my mom that I was staying the Night at Hunters house. Hunter told his Dad that he was staying the night at my house.

The back door of the moving truck slammed shut, making me slightly jump gasping in surprise. I turned in my seat and look at the house, I've lived my whole life in. Gloomily I stare remembering all the happy and sad times I've had here.

Once there was a man named Jordan was looking for a big house to move in. He wants move in a big house so he can live in the house with his five dogs. The dogs are all boy dogs. There names are Jojo, Max, Toby, Mike, and coco. So he looks very good so he can move in the perfect house, and he did find the perfect house. But as perfect the house looks he doesn’t know what other bad things are coming his way. He is so happy to move in this perfect house with an amazing view and a big backyard so his dogs can run all they want. But also there is a creepy forest where no one can hear you scream for your life. Jordan does have neighbors but they are miles away. He liked that because he could have his own privacy and a big place to

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.

All five of us kids stand impatiently, surrounding the dirty, white side door attached to the garage of Grandma and Grandpa Pinegar’s home in Orem, Utah. An automatic lock is screwed to the door. We all take turns punching in the code into the lock. The buttons have an orange glow to them, but is only visible in the dark. Little black numbers were once printed on the circular buttons, but have now peeled away as a result of the constant rubbing and pressing on them. The door has always been a pain to get open. The lock constantly jams itself, which requires the code to be entered multiple times. As we sit and wait for Mom to open the door, I admire the familiar place. Grandma and Grandpa’s three story house is layered in red, rough bricks. Five white columns hold up a lengthy carpeted deck, as well as the extended roof. Windows can be seen in all stories of the house, giving the house a wide open feel. The neatly cut grass, planted in the front lawn, is parted by a sidewalk that leads up to a couple of stairs and then to a dark brown door. A flagpole is surrounded by a flower bed in the front lawn. Our handprints mark the cement where the flagpole stands. Finally, Mom gets the door unlocked, it groans - sounding like an old blowhorn - as rusty gears turn inside to unfasten. Sara, my younger sister, takes hold of the scratched up metal doorknob, twists it to the side, pushes the door open, and runs in. Leading the rest of us with her.

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.