Yellow Shawl Research Paper

Why is being a fancy dancer such a big deal? This is the dance of the Native American Fancy Shawl. This dance interests a lot of people because many people do not believe that Natives exist, never have seen one dance, or even a fancy dancer dance before. “ This style of dance is the newest style of Native American dance there is.” In the early 1920’s,  Native American women started to dance the Fancy Shawl dance which was very uncommon. In the 1950’s, women became more aware of the Fancy Shawl dance and started to dance the dance more in the Southern Tribes (“The Evolving Beauty of the Fancy Shawl Dance”). Most of the dances that the Natives Americans dances started from the men, due to the women wanting to dance like the men did. When started

Yellowknife is 62° north it is really close to arctic circle it receives less energy from the sun which means it's cold there the temperature can go to -27°in with the and 17°< in summer Yellowknife is at the leeward side that's why it receives low precipitation and alot of sunshine the rain shadow from the western mountains Yellowknife has very cold winters and warm

“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

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

Imagine waking up with a steady tremor of your hands, an unpredictable pain in the head and

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 may as well snow,” she said, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “It’s too cold to do anything.” The only thing Charity like about the colder weather, was that she could cook things ahead of time and store them in the shed outside and they’d not ruin

She was eight years old, and it barely began getting crispy outside. Winter was right around the corner. She loved winter, the cold weather always made her all lubricous. Her favorite part of winter was eating cold food and wrapping herself around him while he was cold. She always thought cold items and food were the best in cold weather and having the air in front of her while it was cold just made it so fun. Unfortunately she wasn’t enjoying this upcoming winter without him.

Heading out the door, I try and leave the feeling of darkness and despair. Cool winds brushed against my skin and the feeling of freedom and escape filled my body. It reminded me of the time where I had no worries, when I was a kid, free of trouble and stress. Those were the days. I looked around and saw the beautiful vibrant colours of flaming orange and red spread across trees which only reminded me that the dreaded winter was coming. The fact that I had no cosy coats, warm blankets or heaters made me resent

To your surprise, it is custard filled. You give an embarrassing moan as you chew. It's amazing, just as you thought. You ate the whole thing within seconds after the first bite. You look around nervously seeing if anyone just saw your pig out, and to your relief you noticed no one. You wiped off your mouth with your sleeved arm and shove your hands in your pockets, trying to play it off anyway as if someone really was there. The cold consumes your face again and you shiver into the fluff of your hood. You have to admit, you hate the bitterness, but you adore winter. It's beautiful, magical and a comforting cold most of the time. THIS cold is just nonsense to you. You notice a park leading straight to Mt.Ebott that you haven't seen before. You always drove to work and never took any other route. You can assume though, so you shrug, a walk in the park as a shortcut seems nice to you. You slowly make your way across the street and onto the path. You take your time, moving at a slow pace and watching every tree you pass. Sure, it's cold but it's still beautiful. The color is still in the trees, deepened by the frost. You breathe out slowly, watching your breath come to life as you step on a stick you didn't notice. You felt it crack under your foot, but you heard no sound. You blinked, pausing for a second before continuing again. A few steps later you finally hear the crack of the stick, which made you jump. You turned around

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.

The effect of losing someone close to you can prolong your life physically and mentally. There is some individual who forgets about the past and moves on and there some who can't bury the hatch with the fact they lost someone close in personal. In the book “The Shawl” by Cynthia Ozick the protagonist Rosa suffered a massive blowout in her life. The story takes place during a devastating event in the history called Holocaust. Rosa just witnesses her child's death. She was a Jewish woman helplessly taking care of her daughter in the concentration camp, without letting anyone especially the Nazi’s about her baby. The people around her knew that she had a baby with her but never revealed the secret to any officer. Desperately holding her baby wrapped

The season of winter has begun. The sky was dark and the ground was bright. During this time of the season, we usually stay home and some people go out for hunting. When I woke up on the first day of winter morning I wore my skirt and cape that was made out of yellow cedar bark to keep myself warm. Afterward, I helped my mom prepare food for breakfast that was served on wooden platters and trays. The food we had for breakfast was dry fish that were caught from summer. After breakfast, I mostly spent the day making and repairing tools that will be used for the

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

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.