The Snowman It was a frigid day in December. I wore so many clothes that I looked like a penguin. Every breath I took makes a small cloud and scattered. The gloves I worn seemed to be mildness like paws. The buildings behind me were covered by the thick snow. The wall became more brick-red because of the spotless white snow. Some snowflakes drift down on my hair gently. The snow was heavy, but not much wind. My friends bounced from worm house and laughed to me. “We should build a snowman. The snow is heavy enough.” One of my friends advised. We all cheered and started to pile the snow together.
It’s not a hard job for us to build a lovely snowman. I splashed some water on snowman’s body, the water congealed to the ice speedily. The outside
As the frost crept up my window, each snowflake was perfectly plastered in front of me. They seemed as if they were putting on a show just for me, and I couldn’t help but imagine that there were tiny people living in each one. The soft hum of my mother’s CD’s played in the background as my little brother was fast asleep to my right. I brushed my fingers through my dolls knotted hair, feeling the itchy yarn envelope each finger. Looking out the window again all I saw were cars speeding past us, all rushing to get to their own winter plans.
A lone candle burns into the senseless night. Its wax trickling down its side. I stare at the clock and it is barely half past nine, yet time seems to stand still. I stare at the window and investigate the nasty mesmerizing blizzard falling outside my window. I could not grasp anything other than the snow. All I can do is moan as each passing second this bloody snow lingers and destroys my vision of a perfect Christmas, in which Santa would come and visit me in my sleep. At the time I was only four but I treasured Christmas and the snow surrounding it. Little did I know the damage that it would entail into my life.
"Do you ever see yourself, fantasizing, about snow?" She asked, unaware of the ignorance, that seemed to protrude, across her face. "We live in Texas, obviously." I snickered, as she shot me a look of annoyance, "I know." She began as she rolled her eyes, "To better explain it, have you forgotten the feeling of snow, not your mind, but your body, the feeling of it laying in your hands."
The fountain is frozen and icicles hang from the rooftop. The grass is bright white, covered in ice crystals. The sidewalks are frozen and the cars look like monstrous marshmallows. The entire family gathers for breakfast in the Mess Hall, which is an enormous room with a table shaped like a horseshoe and over two dozen chairs. Mounted deer hang on the wall, too numerous to count. A chandelier made of antlers hangs down in the center of the room. People gather around the burning fireplace for warmth. I hear pots and pans clanking together; I can smell the bacon and biscuits cooking to perfection. The smell of the brewing coffee engulfs the room. After breakfast, the kids go to our cabins and find the warmest clothes we can. We walk out the Mess Hall and everything we see is frozen. These polar temperatures are just like the ones when our family went skiing. We drove eighteen hours up to Wintergreen, Virginia for a ski trip with our cousins from North Carolina. Since it was our first time skiing, it took some practice and falling on our faces before we got the hang of it. Every night after the slopes closed, my cousins, my two sisters, and I brought sleds onto the slope and slid down part of the mountain. I can feel the arctic temperatures blowing on my face. My ears and nose turn shades of red and blue. My vision is blinded by snowflakes falling in my face. I cannot see where I am going until I hit a fence face first. I suddenly feel
While I knew that a good snowman is hard to build I didn’t realize that it was an activity also enjoyed by monsters. In this charming puzzle title the process also involves a bit more thought than lumping together as much snow as you can find and then sticking a carrot and scarf on it. On the plus side there is no risk of frostbite and the activity isn’t dependent on the weather.
This will occur when the snow has fallen at a warmer temperature. Another part of preparing is finding a nice place to build the snowman. Make sure the ground is at least somewhat level to get the best outcome of your snowman.
If you’ve never built a snowman, it’s something you might like to try. This is an activity that every child or adult should be able to enjoy once in their life. In order to build a snowman, you must live in a climate suitable for snow, and in order to follow these directions, you must be able to comprehend simple instructions. If you follow these steps, you’ll be able to build your own snowman and teach others how to create them as well.
It was December and the day was arctic. The wind blew rapidly and incoherently as the village folk worked on the crops and attend to their many cattle. Then, something commenced falling from the empyrean...it was snowing. Customarily this
Once I finished my fort I started to make snowballs. I made so many snowballs they filled a quarter of the fort, “ Oh my gosh, there are so many snowballs, this is unbelievable.” I said shocked. I received a text message from one of my friends, a seventh grader, saying “ We are getting close to the park. The seventh graders are ready to beat you guys.”
Repeat step 1 to create a medium sized ball of snow to be the torso, and then a small ball of snow to be the head.
Slip, crunch, I fell on to my knees braking the crisp surface of the snow, the wind picks up and I gasp after the cold dry air, as the cold bit me like a dog, I get back up towards the endless horizon trying to find our fishing honey hole, the rope eats my thick glove with its many splinters and spurs as we pull the dark blue fish house, all we can hear is the wind hollering like a cat in water, and the hard plastic undercarriage of the fish house sliding across the sparkling snow like a hot knife through butter.
One of my clearest memories as a child was receiving a snowglobe for my fifth birthday. This wasn’t just any snow globe, this was a special snow globe that I had asked my parents for on a family vacation. It was made of real glass that was as transparent and crystal clear as water. The base was made of porcelain, carefully carved with a pattern of white pure flowers and pale green leaves sat atop a pretty pink delicately painted as the background. I was amazed that my parents trusted me to take care of such a breakable object.
Making a snowman can be quite simple if you follow these quick steps. First, you must have a flat piece of land covered in snow. If the land is not icy the snowman will melt, and if the land is not flat the snowman will roll away. Considering the icy land you must have there should be plenty of snow on the ground to provide for the snowman’s body. To begin creating a snowman you must collect a chunk of snow, and roll it into a large sized ball. This chunk will be the base of the snowman. For the body and head of the snowman you will use the same strategy you used to make the bottom. So, roll out two more balls of snow. However, the body should be slightly smaller than the base, and the head should be slightly smaller than the body.
It was a cold day, so cold that your arms start to sting as if a needle is impaling the surface of your skin. The wind applies a force which feels as if your face is oozing with thick crimson red blood. The gray puffy clouds covered the sky and dropped small snowflakes onto the road’s surface. A man stood there, freezing, clearing the coat of thick white snow from the concrete road. His nose runs with a river of snot that floods out when the cold wind strikes. His sense of smell is heavily clogged by the slimy snot, but he can still smell the scent of the steamy hot chocolate which sits on the top of his snow covered car. His feet start to numb because of the cold flood which soaks through his boots to his white, silky socks. His feet feel as if he stepped into the freezing cold ocean. As if he fell through ice and he was stuck standing there. The vast pile of the ice white snow feels almost like a quicksand around his black rubber boot. Foggy figures of people shovel the big piles of snow off the sidewalks. They scrape and pick at the glossy white ice which sticks to the sidewalk like a little boy clinging to his mother's side. His feet still sting as if he was stepping on pins and needles. His hands are damp with sweat from grasping the curved metal shaft attached to a socket which holds the blade. The blade cuts holes into the thick powdered snow which is removed from the endless pile. The jet black shovel is filled with slushy snow and crystal shards of ice. The end of
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.