Descriptive Essay On The House

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.

One place that I see every day but don’t put much attention to is my house. The house that I live in is near by a park and a gas station. My house is small and cozy is made of steel frames, the anterior part of the house has a beige and pink color that combine a beautiful shade. The inside of my house has many portraits of family members and drawings. I have a total of two bathrooms and four rooms a kitchen and two living rooms. We have a living room that’s used for grown-ups and the other one is used for the children. The kitchen table and chairs are made of wood, in the ceiling there is big chandelier. The walls of my house are painted in different colors that are green, beige and pink. I like that every room has its own different color, it’s not boring it brings life and shade.

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.

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.

The barn has always been my home. When I look back on my childhood, I have trouble remembering anything other than those long days and nights spent at the barn. My mother, a retired professional dressage, long distance, and show jumping rider was never able to shake that part of her. That instinct was so strong that she even rode while pregnant with both my older sister and me. I was on a horse before I could walk, and ride before I could recite the alphabet. But, as I grew older I developed allergies to horses. So bad that my eyes would swell shut and air could barely squeeze to my lungs. So I left the love of horses to my mom and pursued my own passion...goats. It might sound funny but for the past eleven years, I have shown goats at county fairs and helped the family I lease from take care of the goats and their farm. It takes a special kind of person to care for 30 head of dairy goats. They get milked twice a day and eat a lot.

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 turned around, looking back at my old room. The paint on the wall is peeling off, the ceiling was falling apart, and the floor was cracking open. This was the house I have been living for thirteen years, and now I need to leave. Mom and dad bought this house from an old man, then thirteen years past, this is 2004. yes, it is already 2004, how fast is it! I stood there, staring at the empty room with only a little furniture. I can’t feel home, where is my home? I don’t know this weird feeling. Happy and sad at the same time. However, if I left, is it going to be an enjoyable life, or it is going to be another way that leads me to my doom? I kept repeating in my mind.

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 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.

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.

The first thing I noticed when looking at the house built at the end of the cul-de-sac on Calle Redonda, was it’s large stones. Ninety percent of the house was covered with them. I stood at the beginning of the driveway and  caught sight of little sprouts of weeds bursting through the cracks between each stone. The further I walked up the driveway closer to the garage, the more pink and sparkly toys I passed by. Pieces of pink chalk, size four children's fluffy shoes, sometimes even princess dresses were all left in the driveway. When I reached the garage door I noticed the weathering on the wood from the sunny days of summer. I could distinguish discoloring on the two metal handles on the sides of the garage doors.

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.

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.