Snow House Descriptive Writing

When I woke up again from my deep sleep, I got re-dressed and headed out to my car. The snow was still deep as ever, the wind was still bitter, dry, and freezing cold. I warmed my car before I headed out and I headed back inside for a little while to wait for the car to heat. As I sat inside the warm and cozy house my mother warmed me to watch out for the thick spots of snow and ice because I could slide and crash into something. As I continued to sit in the warm house, I started to remember things my parents would tell me about people sliding off the road and going off the road. Of course I had the thought in my head that it would

The first snowfall of the year had finally arrived one late November night, blanketing the small cabin and surrounding forest with fresh, powdery snow. The wind howled through the leafless trees, often relieving the weighed down branches of their snowy burden. The smooth and unblemished snow coated everything, leaving the road to the cabin indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain.

As I stepped out of the airport, followed by my family, I was unprepared for the snowfall and icy pavement that is so commonplace in January in Michigan. If I had thought enough about it, I would have worn winter boots on the plane and maybe brought my puffy white coat to block the wind. Instead, I stood shivering in brand new, pink ballet-flat shoes, while snowflakes filled my eyelashes.

As winter continues, Haskell examines the newly fallen snow during the early moments of sunrise. While most people find beauty in the large blanket of snow that

I took my suit jacket off and hastily shoved it into my backpack. I smiled as the air hit my body and started to dry the sweat that had gathered from wearing the suit jacket for three hours. Looking outside I saw what I expected. The grey lifeless clouds of the English winter hung over us and the almost freezing temperatures,

I pulled my sweater tighter trying to lock out the cold weather; I should have listened to my mom about this. “Wear your jacket, Farah, It’s going to be a cold one!” Her words echoed in the back of my head like an endless loop; I knew something like this would happen. I started power walking in attempt to get to my warm, cozy bed as fast as I could, almost there.

"Do you ever see yourself, fantasizing, about snow?" She asked, unaware of the ignorance, that seemed to protrude, across her face. "We live in Texas, obviously." I snickered, as she shot me a look of annoyance, "I know." She began as she rolled her eyes, "To better explain it, have you forgotten the feeling of snow, not your mind, but your body, the feeling of it laying in your hands."

We are headed to Pine Log, my great-uncle's hunting camp. Three hours and many windy roads later, we finally arrive. It is a bitterly cold and foggy day. I step out the car, and look out at the wilderness. The 850 acre property seems to go on forever. I look to my left and see seventeen of my cousins racing towards us. They embrace us with the warmest hugs they could give. The warmth brings

Chandler shivered as the icy wind picked up causing my curls to swirl around my face like ribbons trapped in the gust. My eyes were slightly watering and my fingers were tightly tucked under my armpits to keep them from freezing off. Don't get me wrong I love the cold seasons but not so much when all on was wearing was a worn and faded black ACDC t-shirt, some blue jeans, converses, and one of Chandler's thin dark grey jackets. My mom finally pulls up looking straight at the gloomy skies ahead. Her face lacked any emotion and her eyes were dull as she patiently waited for me to inter the truck. Of course since I'm only 5' 3" and wielding 12 stitches in my left side Chandler gently helped me into the truck.

I covered every inch of myself, so now I could only see thru the misshapen opening of my hood. I slowly waded thru the slush of snow. I shoved my hand into the pockets of my coat, desperately trying to keep them warm. Ever since I was a kid, I feared hypothermia. I was so afraid of losing my fingers and toes to the point where I rather just lose the whole arm, instead of just one finger.

It was early spring in New Conway, yet there was snow. We aren’t used to snow as much in Missouri, but out there in New Conway, it was a winter wonderland every single day. The small grains of snow sparkled in the bright, gleaming sun. My family, laced up their laces and clomped out the doors with their enormous long and somewhat heavy feet.

heard that it was possible for us to get a snow day but before I went to bed I saw it wasn't even snowing so I figured we wouldn't have one. I looked out my window and saw it was super windy and snowing very hard. I got super excited since I couldn't even seen my neighbors house. Usually if we couldn't see that it meant we had a snow day. I pulled the news on my phone to check if we had a snow. First thing I saw was that over a hundred schools had one! Surely we would be one of them. I scrolled down to the bottom since Zeeland is always at the bottom. “What” I yelled inside my head. “How on earth do we not have a snow day” I thought to myself.

I woke up to a loud-wailing scream of sirens. The sirens of the police cars and ambulance always wakes me up in the morning; it’s a tradition. Instead of getting out of bed I just lay there knowing that if I get up I’ll have to face the reality of life. I got up anyway knowing I would have to get up sooner or later. The dark wood floors were freezing. I felt like it was winter and I had just got stuck in the snow. I ran over to my drawers and quickly took out one pair of fluffy socks. I put them on at the same rate I took them out and let out a sigh of relief once I was

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

We thanked her and pulled on our coats and mittens. I grabbed my white chocolate mocha before heading out into the thick snow. Karina and Alan argued over who was going to drive through the storm on the way home and eventually Alan conceded. As he scraped snow off the car, Karina jokingly warned me that it was going to be a rough trip home. I figured she was just exaggerating since she loved to make fun of Alan. Then, Alan hopped in and insisted Karina played Christmas music.