The Hills

The glacial erratics represent the beginning of human population of the America’s and the beginning of traditional culture, and the rocks carry with them the essence of the spirit of all those years. In honour of the truth and reconciliation act, this essay has an ode to healing by walking the land and, more specifically, reconnecting with Mother earth. I am not a religious person. I am not a spiritual person even in my own mind. And I do not even know if I believe if there is or is not a god. But

“Well, clean up and get ready for bed” She replied, washing vegetables in the basin and lighting a fire under the soup. After hearing that scream come from the house on the hill, Al was too scared to venture far for quite a while. He would however, often pear into the distance and try to see the house, perched atop that hill. All this was when Al was only 8 years old. Now, being 13 and in seventh grade, he got brave enough to wander over near to that house again. This time, it was different. The

The door creaked open as the young boy stepped out but was quickly slammed shut by the viscous wind the noise echoed through the hills disturbing some pigeons roosting in the near by trees. The moon was illuminating the night sky with a milky glow which illuminated all land creating large disturbing shadows. The trees bent in submission to the howling wind which forced their branches to brush along the ground sweeping the dust away from the track. The solitary building

“They promote esprit de corps, exercise, fitness and team building. I participated with two other Joint Task Force members as the bike competitor.” Taking off from Ferry Landing, some struggling more than others, bikers battled the first of many hills. Those with road bikes have a greater advantage, as they switched gears allowing them to grab more traction as they pedaled with already straining legs. Coming to Sherman Avenue, they made a right heading toward the turnaround point at Cable

Living in Colorado means that skiing and snowboarding is a big part of their culture, especially since we are lucky enough to live so close to the Rocky Mountains. Surprisingly enough, I never had the opportunity to snowboard or ski in my entire life. I did not have the chance since I was raised in a Peruvian household that was never formally introduced to any snow activities. Peru does not get much snow which exempts their culture from activities such as skiing and snowboarding. When I was searching

Throughout the novel, Esperanza dreams of moving into a new house, a house on the hill because “people who live on hills sleep so close to the stars that they forget about [those] who live on earth” (86). The house on the hill is a metaphor for those who are higher up in the social class. Those who live on the hills live their live their entire lives so easily and “[do not] look down at all except to be content to live on the hills” (86). Esperanza critiques that the higher class are happy with their own

Though the green state of Virginia, I hear my sister yell “Look at the hills!” Confused, I follow my sister’s eyes, spotting a beautiful line of hills full of trees in front of us. After finding out that we’ll be passing through the hills for our journey, I feel filled with joy because I’ve always been fond of mountains and hills. As my dad navigates us high up into the hills, we spot to the side of the road to take in the magnificent view in front of us. I see the cars below

Makuyu with a valley between them through which flows Honia river,the soul of the two ridges. Kameno is inhabited by the tribe whose blood and bones speake the language of the hills and which has kept itsu magic and rituals pure and intact. Makuyu,on the other hand ;is occupied by the language of the hills and the ways of the land. Mr.Livinstone and Joshua

Sitting on top of the highest peak for miles, I feel the winter air whipping my face. The bitter cold makes my skin prickle and my breath, rapid and heavy after climbing to the top, freeze into my hair in beautiful, intricate flakes. They melt against my hot skin, leaving tear like drops spilling down my face. The cold feels wonderful, comforting even, after the strenuous climb. In this moment, I think of nothing but the air moving in and out of my body, like a river flowing quickly through a shallow

The dirt path led me downward into secluded valleys and over open hills. Two miles into this delightful experience, a small Adirondack named the Stan Murray shelter, stood as a resting point for weary hikers. The Adirondack, a three-sided shack like structure, blended into the surrounding brown of the trees and surprised