Reflection Of A Journey To The Lake Of The Woods

When I crossed by the snow covered sign that read “Welcome to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness National Park” and looked at what surrounded me, I was beside myself. I didn’t know that trees could ever be so beautiful. The towering trees were the perfect shade of dark emerald green, and the way the snow piled on them looked like painting. I thought I was living a fairytale. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever laid eyes on.

If you were forced to pick your paradise, where do you think your thoughts would take you? Would you go to the quaint wooden cabin in Michigan that has been in the family for years? Or would you think of your cozy apartment a top a skyscraper in your favorite concrete jungle? Without a second thought, my mind rushes to Pawley’s Island, South Carolina. As locals describe it best, the “elegantly shabby” beachside town 40 minutes from Charleston has been my chosen vacation spot since childhood. Between the hammock shops, crabbing in the creeks and ghost stories, there is always something to entertain you on the island. With only the best memories there, never did I think that there would be something to hold me back from indulging in the lazy

In Fly Away Peter, David Malouf uses the natural environment to highlight the cognitive journey to understanding the contrasts in, and value of, life. Malouf uses the sanctuary’s peaceful serenity to illustrate the blinded innocence of humanity, contrasting with Brisbane which begins to expose the darker side of humankind. This is then vigorously supported by the horrors of the trenches in the Western Front. The natural environment is also used at the beach to explore the emergent answers to the meaning of human life.

Take the time in the mornings to remember what it is that we are grateful for: a loving family, a roof over your head, even take time to thank the oven for working. It doesn’t matter, just the practice of being grateful for a few minutes can help jog your memory of the better things in life even if things are tough.

When I close my eyes and imagine, I can still clearly hear the gentle splash of the waves lapping the shoreline, and feel the slight ocean breeze whizz through my hair, sending it flying in every direction. During the frigid and dreary months of Missouri’s winter, there is one place in particular that my heart longs to be. Marco Island, Florida. When most people think of a luxurious vacation, they imagine crystal clear water, snowy white sands, and a miraculous five star hotel. Marco Island is no Bora Bora, but to me it’s the most enchanting small town that values simplicity and offers pure bliss to anyone coming to visit.

Saying these words out loud emphasized the stories I was sharing, making me even more grateful for the day I had just experienced. Being gracious has helped me see the beauty in everyday. I found beauty in not just big events, but the little moments I would experience throughout the day. During the past month, I have seen an even grater change as I began to write it down in my phone. While doing this activity, it has made me more aware of my grateful experiences throughout my day. I go about my day looking for grateful moments and when they occurred I hold onto them so I can remember to write them down. I fall asleep better at night with an optimistic state of mind. I even wake up in a better mood being that my last thoughts before I went to bed were positive. This has overall helped my mental health as I try to move forward and become a more grateful person. Even after completing this assignment, I am going to continue writing down three things I am grateful for each day. Instead of focusing on the negatives, I am going to focus on the moments in life I am grateful

When you enter this Guice home in West Linn, Oregon, the very first thing you might discover is color: huge, intense splashes of poppy-pink on umbrellas, chair cushions, blankets, seat covers, and toss pillows. However that's far from the only aesthetically wonderful aspect in this compact landscape by Oregon's Paradise Restored. There's far more to be appreciated right here: warm wood enhances deck and pathway, latticework personal privacy fence, and a partial-shade pergola. And the stonework? Merely art. It comprises walls of a welcoming fire pit, rough stones whose variegated surface areas reflect and shine color and light. It likewise comprises an outdoor patio with

The people of Blasket are shaped partially by their relationship with the land. With transportation to the mainland being difficult, they must live off what is grown on the island and the animals that inhabit it. Early in the memoir, O’Sullivan describes the beautiful landscape he sees when he first comes to Blasket, saying, “The beauty of the place filled my heart with delight” (22). There is a

As humans, we have a tendency to pinpoint and pick out the things that aren't "right." We complain and moan and find ourselves miserable. We may even consider ourselves victims of life. The thing is, though, is that each difficulty we find ourselves dealing with does in fact hold a gem of wisdom, and can, if we so choose, become an opportunity to practice gratitude.

I gazed up at the mountain now drenched in light red and squinted, trying to keep my eyes open, as the bright sharp light burnt into my eyes. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I finally closed them unable to the pain any longer; I wiped my watery eyes and thought where Samneric’s fire was? There was a rumble inside me, and I looked hopefully at the jungle wondering if I could find Samneric’s fire as well as something to eat. In the morning light the jungle seemed like an old and tattered rug chewed to bits by moths, yet despite this the jungle and the whole island was beautiful shining in the sun’s warmth. I kept on walking as the jungle beckoned me calling me with its beauty. As I passed between the trees, the canopy overhead plunged me into velvet darkness. The only source of light was from the small gaps in the shell of overlapping leaves, where the sun glistened through. Moss and lichen covered the ground in abundance, thriving in this humid atmosphere, and feeding on the eerie green light that managed to penetrate through the ceiling of emerald leaves. The strange green shade and the various knotted pillars made it impossible to see for great distances or to walk about freely.

In the dark woods, the rustling of leaves, loud rumbling of thunder, the pitter-patter of rain, the sound of sword and claw rings through the air. A werewolf girl is fighting for her life. For three days, her pursuer has tracked her through meadow and marsh. Now, in these very woods, is where it would end. She would have easily dispatched this man if he was ordinary, but he is a hunter and she was his prey. Along with the wound in her leg that he inflicted earlier from his crossbow bolt, she has been left weakened and her movements slowed. But now, she has the jump on him. For in the fury of battle, she has escaped to the treetops where she plans her ambush.

Completed in 1984, the house was designed as a family holiday retreat that replicated the camping experience that the family had enjoyed on the site for many years. The clients desire for the building to connect with nature and minimise intervention within the landscape aligns with Murcutt’s design ethos and formed the basis of a productive working relationship. Murcutt’s understanding of the client’s needs is beautifully expressed with the plan, accommodating the parents need for retreat from children and guests through the creation of two separate social zones connected by a communal space that brings the occupants together.

My Wooded World Sheila Visingardi tells a story about how nature plays a huge part in her life. As a child she would sit in the beautiful, relaxing, woods and let her mind wander. It was as if the branches would call to her. (Lines 2-4) As the speaker grows older the woods have become an escape for her. The woods represent a sanctuary. This is where she feels inspired and creative, and also safe and at home. It is “a world full of imagination, creativity, resourcefulness, as well as inspiration.” (Lines 7-8)

I am sitting in the passenger side as my dad is driving, and we are on our way to my grandpa's land which is located about 25 minutes east of Dubuque. First thing we do when we get there is to finish putting on our coats, and then to grab our bows out of the back, then I close my door softly. Walking through the open field I have dead weeds and tall grass crunching under my boots, and at the end of the field we reach a barbed wire fence that we crawl under. Then we cross under a bunch of pine trees and go about 30 yards into the woods to where my tree stand sits. Then my dad tells me good luck and he heads down into the gully where his stand is located. So I then climb the 12 foot ladder and sit on the seat and put on my safety belt and

Along the way, the sunrise outside the tiny window seemed to expect my visit. The feeling of gladness inside my stomach leapt in excitement, just as I gazed down at the island beneath me. Spacious, forest green fields coated the isle; calm, tranquil waves showered the rocks beside them; and nothing came across as extraordinary, rather, the physical features complemented each other, as if they were pen and ink.