Noelle Wentworth doesn’t mind getting away from St. Augustine to fill in at her ailing aunt’s candle shop. A few weeks in Snowing Rock will help her get past the humiliating memory lapse that ruined an important piano concert—and, ultimately, her marriage to her overbearing duet partner. She’s mentally rehearsing for her comeback performance when the bus she’s riding in slides off an icy mountain road. And one deep, calming voice emerges from the confusion to slow her racing heart—right before his ruggedly handsome face kicks it back into allegro. Gabe Waters is usually prepared for anything—as a professional stuntman, his life depends on it—but nothing prepared him for Noelle, the unattainable high school crush whose bravery saved him from
“No matter who we are, no matter how successful, no matter what our situation, compassion is something we need to receive and give,” author Catherine Pulsifer said. Patricia McKissack wanted to show this theme in her short story, “The Woman in the Snow” by using her character, a black mother named Eula Mae Daniels. In the beginning of the story, a racist bus driver spots her struggling through the snow, holding her sick baby and begging him to give her a ride, even offering him her wedding ring. He refuses and drives off without her because she does not have money to pay for the ride. As the story progresses, she is found dead the next morning and begins to haunt the route, killing the bus driver in a crash, continuing to haunt the route until all drivers refuse to take it. This theme begins to develop when Ray Hammond, the first black metro driver, sees Eula Mae on the route and offers a ride for free instead of denying her one, so she thanked him and gave him a smile before disappearing into the swirling snow. Compassion is always important.
Why would anyone propose to use millions of gallons of water a day to desecrate sacred Indian land, in a State that is going through a drought? Well, the Arizona SnowBowl has proposed to do just that; make artificial snow on their ski resort. The proposal is for their own economical benefit with no respect for the holy San Francisco Peaks, where the Ski resort is located.
Joseph Mallord William Turner’s art piece named “Snow Storm: Steamboat off a Harbor’s Mouth” is a very original landscape with a limited amount of bright colors. The landscape shows a ship that appears to be surrounded by a very dark storm. The color scheme the painter used was for the most part neutral,dark, pale colors that gave the art piece an additional darker tone, however he also decided to add an intense white color in the middle, where the ship happened to be located.
After a careful overview of the story, the readers understands that the author point is that in some situations, people should do the nice thing and sacrifice themselves to help others. In the story, “What Happened During the Ice storm” the author uses a mysterious, bittersweet tone, “They stood over the pheasants, turning their own heads, looking at each other each expecting the other to do something” (Heynen 1). The author uses this line to show that any other person would not even stop to think; that any other person would immediately attack. However, putting these lines in the story makes the reader notice how the boys took the time to stop and think
For my performance, the short story I presented was “Snow” by Ann Beattie this short story was beautifully written. (Simpson and Henderson 143) Before I performed I did my research on Ann Beattie, so then I can have a better understanding that is Ann Beattie, and why did she write this specific short story? In addition to that Ann Beattie states, “ I was only a child. It is often true of only children that they become watchers because they belong to small families and re tightly bounded to those Units… I am continually squirreling away situations that I don’t conscious realizing are registering. ”(WWW.
It was a dark, gloomy day in the Lamar Valley. Sleet, trotting along slowly, came across the fence marking the exit of Yellowstone Park. He immediately backed away from it and started the way from which he came. All his life he was told to stay away from the fence. The wolves feared the fence for the fence showed the unknown. It was the fact that beyond the fence was unknown that they feared. Sleet, being a reddish, blackish wolf, was very curious about this fence. For there were stories of wolves who traveled beyond the fence, and never returned. They figured the wolves had been killed. But something about these stories confused him. How would they know that they never returned because they were killed? They could have still been alive and stayed past the fence because there was good! He erased this thought from his mind and continued on his way. Sleet was walking along slowly when he came across a fresh trail that sent his hair on his back bristling. He crouched low to the ground and showed his teeth. He was being watched. He saw gleaming eyes through the bushes surrounding him. He was trapped. Sleet growled menacingly. The wolf pack around him drew closer. He now knew that he was in danger. He submissively rolled onto his back with feet up above him in the air. This was embarrassing for him. He came from a bloodline of strong wolves who let nothing get in their way and who instead of gaining fear, they inflicted it upon others. Sleet, now rolling back onto his 4 feet,
A poem is an experience, not a thought. It is an experience both the author and the reader share with one another. Authors of poems use tones, keywords, hidden messages, irony, and diction to create their work. They use these tactics so the reader thinks about what they are reading and try evaluating what the message is that the reader wants to get across. In the poem “Snow” by Louis MacNeice, he uses these same characteristics to get the readers mind active in the words. Let’s examine the poem “Snow” and see what the meaning behind this poem is.
She picked up a cigarette, lighted it and blew out some smoke. Then she said suddenly gay and laughing, " You know Toby, you have a new approach, ice water. Even Don Juan never tried that; did he?" Toby sighed with relief, for he had been very much upset. "I don't know who Don Juan was", he said, much relieved, "I'm awfully glad you can laugh about a thing like this,
David Sedaris’ essay, “Let It Snow” is a reflection of Sedaris’ past. A single day from his childhood in North Carolina where Sedaris and his siblings were home due to school being closed for few days because of bad weather. The story reflects solely on the relationship that Sedaris’ mother had with him and his sisters, and how it was affected by her drinking problem. Although the story revolved around the children the mother was the main character.
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
One statement that can never be deliberated as possibly being an opinion, would have to be that everybody makes mistakes. Obviously, some of the smartest people you could ever possibly meet have most definitely made mistakes in their lives, some may be more significant than others. Nonetheless, they are all mistakes made by human beings, this is what we do, especially the younger generations. Whenever a group of teenagers get together to have some "fun," nothing ever any good is going to come out of it. It is almost a given, that mistakes are going to be made in the process, but it is what we do after these mistakes that make us who we are. There was one time that my friends and I went out on an eerie night looking for a good time,
Beep! Beep! Beep! I wake up to an alarm screaming in my ear. I smack the alarm to shut the yelling off. It was a January day, in the middle of the cold, brutal winter. I finally got up after sitting in bed for what felt like hours, and looked outside like I do every morning. I noticed that there was no sign of grass to be seen. All that could be seen was white, frozen blanket of thick snow. I started to get ready for the school day and I just prayed that school was going to be canceled. As soon as I was fully ready I stepped outside and my food sunk down a foot and a half below the snow! I could not believe it that school was still open. As soon as I got to my car that was completely covered in snow, my mother comes out and yells that school was closed. I felt a huge wave as release and I ran back inside and went right back to sleep.
I couldn't believe that we had missed the one turn were told to take. It was -5 degrees on Sunday River, one of the largest ski resorts in Maine, The website seid that most of the snow was covered with ice, not the best conditions but by all means not the worst.
The time was midnight and the weather was unbearable. The dirt roads had become frozen shadows of the night, making it hard for anyone to see anything. Nay one was out, most were either sleeping or stuffed into the tavern, drinking, and gambling. Nay one 's dumb enough to be outside during this night, nay one but me. From a distance, I hear a piano being played inside the tavern, just barely audible due to the sounds o ' the snow storm. I eased closer to the tavern, desperate to get some warmth and perchance a meal that doesn 't taste like crap. Nay one noticed as I entered, they were too busy drinking and gambling or both. Always too busy to notice.
It was a normal winter morning. I woke up freezing my butt off. The night before we