The Fondest Memories Of My Childhood

I made my way to my aunt’s house. Her home smelled of fresh cut pine, and she offered me a cup of coffee with a cinnamon stick in it. I accepted, and we went to the kitchen table and discussed our week. As she talked, I looked out her kitchen table. A small oak grew in the front yard. Snow capped the birdfeeder beside her bird bath.

A single beam of light shone thru the curtain. The specs of dust in the room danced between the rays, whisked into the air by the pleasant breeze tip toeing thru the screen door. I could feel the warmth on my cheek as I rose from the sheets, thoroughly rested. I briskly got ready, slipping on my tennis shoes, old and worn. Stepping outside, I was greeted by the painfully sweet aroma of sweet pea flowers, entranced by the blissful gleams of sunlight, and spellbound by the familiar screeching of parrots, flocking in clouds of bright vermilion.

As I drive up the slight slope of a hill, I stare in wonder at the fresh snowfall on the ground and trees. On the short walk to the lake, I look at all of the ice crystals glistening from the glares of the sun. Families surround me, and all I hear are kids giggling. As I get

My lungs were insatiable, not screaming but rather, begging good-naturedly for more. The balmy air was somehow more invigorating, knowing as I did that its vast expanse respected no boundaries in which it could grow stale and contaminated. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest and in my ears, rhythmically, so that my legs soon fell into stride. My bare shins graciously accepted lashings from the Timothy-grass and wild rye that had grown cavalier in the harrow’s

The air was crisp and clean, as it was a mild autumn day. Throughout the forest, the sounds of nature could be heard. Birds chirping, leaves falling off trees in the midday breeze. The calm sounds of the woods gave way to a new sound: the gentle humming of a young female wanderer, on a quest to visit her grandmother. She quite enjoyed the sounds and view of the forest, as it was her favorite thing to surround herself with as she was growing up in the village not far from the forest edge. As she strolled through the winding paths of the forest road, she thought of the wonderful experiences of the day ahead with her grandmother.

It was a summer day the sun was out, the ground was hot, the shade was dull, the sweet smell of the flowers, the icy water on the sprinkler, the perfect day to go outside and play. The birds were chirping, the trees and were green,

Meanwhile, mid-morning rain brought a unique smell of wetness an earthy odor of damp dirt that no flower has an aroma of. Sounds of guffawing, loquacious, bubbly, effervescent and vivacious folks echo in the park. Another, fantabulous mouthwatering sweet hickory aroma fills the air from neighboring barbecue grills. Consequently, the more you inhaled the pleasant vapor it made your stomach growl of hunger wanting the palatable cuisine. Fresh cut grass and sweet fragrance speak of a day full of possibilities and work that one could do. High and weak is the winter sun, giving mid light and even less warmth. Scent of fresh air, so undefinable, so deliciously crisp, breathes a new breath in the stale air of winter that hangs on, giving it health and a set of wings for new life. Friends gather on the porch for escapades, relaxation and chow time.

The condensed snow under my feet was crushed with every step. The snow was around four inches deep, my boots made a large enough indent, that I made a noticeable trail of holes with every step. The sun had vanished behind a mountain, the sky’s light had gone from an amiable orange, to a mellow blue. I could see outline of the moon between two clouds, and the air’s bite grew colder by the moment. I had taken a detour, past a thin slice of trees near to my neighborhood. Even for a forest, it was a cold, silent place. I used to come out to places like this as a kid, quiet places where I would sit and be alone for hours. I guess I forgot how often that was, but for the moment, I had something else to worry about.

It was not often that I had a few hours to slip away and return to that beloved spot under my favorite pair of trees. That day I had packed my hammock, a thermos full of jasmine tea, and the book that had been gathering dust on my shelf for months. I hopped in my car and drove the relaxing forty-seven minute journey (I had narrowed it down to the exact minute since I had driven there so many times). I stepped onto that familiar turf wearing my favorite jacket; it was a little more brisk than most would consider to be the perfect autumn afternoon, but I disagreed. The crisp, dry air was refreshing, cleansing. I needed to clear my head.

The moonlight illuminated a dripping figure that emerged from a shimmering lagoon, as if covered in liquid metals. Glitter rained down from his head as he ruffled his hair, the view of him walking back up the path to us was like a scene from a movie. The moon was the fullest I’d ever seen it, teetering on top of Silver Lake. Summer noise was my favorite thing, the crackling fire a few feet from me, leaves above me whispering to the sky, even the low rumble of

Once I arrived at the park, I breathed in the fresh air around me and took it all in. The air was cool and salty from the Atlantic ocean, and the trees were a stunning shade of orange this autumn. I could hear the waves crashing against the shore and leaves crunching beneath my feet. An ice cold wind whipped my hair, and I was glad I wore warm clothes. I made a beeline

The frozen silence of a winter’s dawn, dishevel brown pine needles peaking out of a powdery white carpet frosted trees sagging under the weight of last night’s snowfall. Large flakes fell from heaven as if the angels were having pillow fight and the goose down fell to our humble homes. Through beautiful the snow cold and sharp as it built at our fingers like a wolf bit at our fingers with its sharp teeth, as the wind blew through the quiet forest. On the ice, the whip slap the huskies, pulling the sleds into motion. They stopped in the forest to rest by a homeless cabin. Inside the cabin was a miracle! A great feast on the table (still fresh and sweet), a fireplace, a comfortable bunk bed, and six stalls for six huskies. All in simple perfection. They wanted to stay longer, but when the daughter of the family peeked outside at the window, the snow thicken.

Kids back then were pretty laid back, but full of so many adventures as well. When I was 11 in years old in 2011 I remember spending most of my life outdoors, playing hide and seek, bike riding, going to the park, walking through woods to discover new places with my cousins and neighbors or just doing crazy dumb things but they were always worth it because now once I think back they were mini adventures and great stories to tell. There was nothing better than being outdoors and enjoying the fresh air and freedom. Wherever you turned kids were always there despite the weather. During the summer they'd be scattered everywhere while in the fall, they’ll be jumping in the leaves. Then in the winter, making a snowman and angels. Later coming home to just simply watching the best shows on nickelodeon like Victorious, Shake it Up, Wizards Of a Waverly Place ext. The shows back then were the bomb! Nothing could ever compare to them. But that's all it was to the

It was the first day of summer, the grass was bright green, the bluebird sky was vivid, the trees and gardens flourished, and then a dog ran by. All I was doing was sitting under the big willow tree being miserable. D-O-G and Sadie bound over with shocked looks on their faces.

A ways away from a town that I call home, I found a happy place. I often find myself walking through the park by myself. The beautiful trees, the way the yellow and red leaves crumple under my feet every step I take. When the flowers bloom and how it's the most spectacular sight you could ever imagine seeing, all the different colors that appear. When you breathe in and you get this smell of purity, you feel free and alive. Sometimes I like to sit on the old wooden bench where the bench frame is a little rusted, and I get rid of my thoughts and my eyes search the sky. In the winter the icy breeze makes me shiver, and the cold air I take in, is like sitting in front of an air conditioner and breathing in. Some mornings the sun beams across the sky, which is not quite blue yet, but the sun has almost fully risen. When the wind blows, it grazes over the blades of grass. Some days I just stand and take a deep breath in and I can taste the spring. When summer comes around, and the bees are buzzing, and the hot sun beats on the back of my neck, I lay on the soft grass and listen, to the birds chirping a beautiful song, and the kids playing in the park. The sky is the bluest view in sight.