Descriptive Writing Snow

A warm cocoon of thick afghan blankets is shed exposing my skin to the frigid air. The darkness has painted a black coat of paint over my eyes rendering them useless. Guided by the walls, I descend down my staircase; it creaks beneath my exposed feet. A sliver of light reaches my pupils, awakening them, and leads me closer to the source of illumination, red and green bulbs twinkling on our Christmas tree. My sister, wearing purple sweatpants with a copious amount of holes, is awake and sitting on the lazy boy recliner. My parents, lethargic and coffee in hand, sit down next to my sister. Like an eagle mercycily attacks its prey and wrapping paper is red with snowmen. The Christmas tree is shining brightly. I rip the package open quickly,

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls and Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson are both novels about people trying to get their lives in order. In these books there is at least one character that only appears for a short amount of time but has a major effect on the story. If the book is analyzed enough, these characters can be picked out. Ken Fink and Bob Gross both changed Suzanne Walls life, even though they were only in the story for about 2 chapters. Milholland in Snow Falling on Cedars was able to change the complete direction of who was guilty for murder, although he only appeared in one chapter.

We had not gone a rod when we found ourselves in a heap, in a heavy drift of snow. We took hold of each others’ hands, pulled ourselves out, got into the road, and the cold north wind blew us down the road a half mile south, where the Strelow boys and John Conrad had to go west a mile or more. When they reached a bridge in a ravine, the little fellows sheltered a while under the bridge, a wooden culvert, but Robert, the oldest, insisted that they push on thru the blinding storm for their homes. In the darkness they stumbled in, and by degrees their parents thawed them out, bathed their frozen hands, noses, ears and cheeks, while the boys cried in pain. “My brothers and I could not walk thru the deep snow in the road, so we took down the rows of corn stalks to keep from losing ourselves ’till we reached our pasture fence. Walter was too short to wade the deep snow in the field, so Henry and I dragged him over the top. For nearly a mile we followed the fence ’till we reached the corral and pens. In the howling storm, we could hear the pigs squeal as they were freezing in the mud and snow. Sister Ida had opened the gate and let the cows in from the field to the sheds, just as the cold wind struck and froze her skirts stiff around her like hoops. The barn and stables were drifted over when we reached there. The roaring wind and stifling snow blinded us so that we had to feel thru the yard to the door of our house. “The lamp was lighted. Mother was walking the floor, wringing her hands and calling for her boys. Pa was shaking the ice and snow from his coat and boots. He had gone out to meet us but was forced back by the storm. We stayed in the house all that night. It was so cold that many people froze.” Although most of the information that was collected or the stories that were told were in South Dakota, Nebraska, North Dakota the temperatures took

“Trees towered upwards with bending boughs holding the weight of the freshly fallen snow. A blanket of snow hid away all traces of animal life although you could hear the krawing of a murder of crows. Their hidden presence was foreboding to all men who passed through the forest. It was a signal of another starved beast returning to the earth. Even the most frivolous found the endless winter to be a burden.

“We received no food. We lived in snow; it took the place of bread. The days resembled the nights, and the nights left in our souls the dregs of their darkness. The train rolled slowly, often halted for a few hours, and continued. It never stopped snowing. We remained lying on the floor for days and nights, one on top of the other, never uttering a word. We were nothing but frozen

Snow gushed its way into the breeze, targeting the Washington cabin that you and your friends resided in. You were standing next to Beth -- one of the Washington siblings that own the cabin. You released an inaudible sigh before resting your elbows on the window sill, focusing on the leaves that were blanketed within the snowstorm. You could practically feel Beth squint as you applied more pressure on the wooden sill, making it creak with age.

As I finished packing my suitcase the night before we left for Churchill the excitement started to settle in; the next morning we were leaving to hunt my first snow goose season. For anyone who doesn't know snow goose are now considered a bit of a nuisance out on the tundra, the once endangered species is now one of the most abundant waterfowl on the continent. Snow geese can eat their way across the tundra very quickly, destroying their habitat as they migrate through not only for themselves, but for other animals that also depend on the vegetation. I have hunted waterfowl before, harvesting the odd snow that was mixed in with the flock of Canadas but this was the first time I had traveled to target the species. That night I could hardly sleep I was so anxious.

Edwin Fiske’s first memory of snow happened when he was a young boy, perhaps four or five-years-old. He was spending wintertime at his Grandma Cookie’s house with his mom in Springfield, Ohio. It was morning and everybody was awake, yet it was dark outside because the snow would pile high up and block out the windows. “Why is it dark?” a puzzled Edwin asked his grandmother. “Because it’s wintertime!” she responded. The snow towered over him as they all went outside to get into the car that was also buried in snow. My grandpa believes this memory stuck with him because it was his first impression of how deep, dark, and cold snow can be.

The ground beneath the stiff leaves lies frozen. I hear sound of leaves crackling underneath my thick boots which each step I take. As I wander aimlessly, the cold, brisk air invades my lungs. I exhale slowly, I see my shaky breath float away from me. The scenery is nothing special, black trees covered in moss, very few hills, rocks in no set trail, and above all else, endless layers of Texas snow (not really snow, just an ice layer maybe 1/3 of an inch).

This reflection is about Archibald Lampman’s poem called SNOW. Archibald Lampman was born on November 17, 1861 in Morpeth, Canada, and he passed away on February 10, 1899 in Ottawa, Canada (Encyclopedia Britannica). The event in the poem takes place in the late 1800’s in a rural area of canada, during the winter time. In the poem Archibald Lampman does an outstanding job of using the imagery of nature, and in particular snow to make us feel as if we are experiencing these sensations with him.. He describes the color of snow, the sound as snow hits the ground, and the feeling of being surrounded by snow.

The snow was sticking to the window beside me, each flurry as individual and distinctive as a human fingerprint. I focused on the gloomy skies rather than the hospital towering intimidatingly before me. I closed my eyes as my sister stepped out of the car, quietly apologizing to me as she ventured deep into the snowfall. I knew at that moment that I needed to shed my childish ways and step into my new adult skin.

This poem reminded me of the stories that my parents tell me of their experiences of snow, as I have never seen snow. My mother grew up in Michigan with her seven siblings and she has told me all about what it was like waking up to the thick layer of fresh snow encasing everything and how it was the children’s job to clear the drive and walk way before school. She always complains how she ended up being to one who did most of the work as her siblings tended to play around in the snow more than actually shoveling it. She moved to Florida when she was seventeen and sternly claims that she does not miss the snow one bit. My father, on the other hand, has always hated snow with a passion. He grew up moving around from state to state and he dreaded

The snow crunched softly under her warm boots. She brushed the pristine snow off the bench and sat down. The falling snow swirled around her, twinkling in the sunlight like a thousand diamonds. It created a fluffy white blanket on the ground, masking the sights and memories of the day before. She breathed in, inhaling the scent of the crisp mountain air, the wind kissing her face. This was truly a place for her to clear her mind, after all of that that had just happened. The serene blue skies, the fresh alpine air, the panoramic view. From the summit, she could see every crack and crevice in the mountains around her. She could name all of the chairlifts, gondolas, t-bars. She could recite all the statistics of each piste, the steepness, the difficulty, the length.

Haleigh Blaitman trudged through the snow-covered streets of New York, pulling her coat closer as the wind pushed and pulled against her body. She had just gotten off a particularly long shift at work and now had the strenuous task of walking home to complete. Winter had come fast and harsh this year; only yesterday had the cold come, but already the streets had a cover of pristine, white snow. Haleigh began to shiver and almost gave a cry of joy when she caught sight of her dingy apartment in the distance. That was when she heard the whimper; it was coming from the alley to the left. Who in their right of mind would be out in this storm? she thought to herself. Haleigh gave a glance back to her apartment before sighing resignedly

On a snowy and windy night, I was at Barnes & Noble in Green Bay with my friends, Alan and Karina. Christmas music played overhead, the smell of hot chocolate and freshly brewed coffee wafted over, the customers were kind and cheerful, and snow was beginning to blanket the parking lot outside. We were sitting near the cafe wrapping books to support their mom’s school fundraiser. I stared outside and remembered my mom’s warning of the large snowfall that was almost upon us. Around 7:15, the snowflakes were becoming larger and we could barely see outside the window.