No place in my fifth-teen years have compared to it. The wonderful sound of the rippling water that is reflecting sunlight into my eyes on a warm day can’t be beat. Sitting on the deck balcony that could overlook the lake, the cool breeze could always enhance my mood. I could see and hear anything from here like the subtle buzz of the jet ski down in the lake. The jet ski created ripples of water behind it which created a v-shape. Branson, MO is a unique and meaningful place to me and my entire family.
The lengthy and boring car ride to Branson was always worth it. The moment my eyes gained a glimpse of the Branson Strip, I was instantly filled with joy. Bright lit up shops and signs were everywhere. Driving down, you could see all the tail lights glisten into your eyes. The streets were densely packed. It felt like you were driving in slow motion. High in the sky lied the steel go-kart tracked that winded up and declined down a slope. Driving pasted it you could hear the loud engines rumble pass you. When they reached the top of the ramp and begin to go down, the sound of the rubber tires against the steel tracked got extremely loud and squeaky. Passing the wooden sign reading Rock Lane Resort, the quest to our resorts is getting close to an end as we head down the dark streets into the dense forest. After
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Here is where my family meets up every year. In the morning, the water was subtle and peaceful. The dock moved up slightly and down slightly. The occasional boat would sail by giving the dock a sudden jerk, but soon after becoming calm. The cool breeze and the warm sun complimented each other perfectly. Jumping into the water gave you a sudden change from hot to cold which was surprisingly very satisfying. In the water your legs hang down loose with no restraints. Trees by the water swung back and forth by the gush of wind. Branson gives me an atmosphere where I am always
As I looked out the window of the restaurant, I could see the sun bouncing off the sparkling water below. Boats and other water craft scatter the water as well as people on water-skis and inner tubes. The picturesque view makes life seem so much better and just looking at the river makes a person calmer. The scene just described is the view from the window of a restaurant called Sophia in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and the corresponding river is the mighty Mississippi. Although Minnesota is the land of 10,000 lakes, this scene could be found right here in the valley of Phoenix. The way this is possible is through the Rio Salado Project.
Each person has a place that calls to them, a house, plot of land, town, a place that one can call home. It fundamentally changes a person, becoming a part of who they are. The old summer cabins, the bedroom that was always comfortable, the library that always had a good book ready. The places that inspire a sense of nostalgic happiness, a place where nothing can go wrong.
The cool water felt very refreshing on a warm spring day; however, anything over 50 degrees felt warm to our family who had traveled from the icy Idaho weather. My dad and we five kids waded out to where the water reached my belly button. My mom stayed on the beach. Those of us in the water splashed each other, at moments sucking in some of the salt water. To me, it tasted as if someone had poured gallons of table
The drive to cross the Kentucky border had taken hours and hours of strenuous patience to finally arrive in another state. The view was by far country like as hints of cow manure could be smelled far from a distance. We drive through small towns, half the size of our hometown of Glen Ellyn had been the biggest town we've seen if not smaller. The scenery had overwhelmed us, as lumps of Earth from a great distance turned to perfectly molded hills, but as we got closer and closer to our destination the hills no longer were hills anymore, instead the hills had transformed to massive mountains of various sizes. These mountains surrounded our every view as if we had sunken into a great big deep hole of green pastures. Our path of direction was seen, as the trails of our road that had followed for numerous hours ended up winding up the mountainous mountains in a corkscrew dizzy-like matter.
Growing up in Virginia was great. The house I lived in for the entirety of my life there, was right on the water. With this location, of course we had it all; boats, jet
Firstly, Ocean City boasts an awe-inspiring appeal to our senses through its grace. I begin each visit standing stagnant; stunned by the beauty the city entails. Each time, I soak up the sensation of the grain beneath my feet, the way it appeared as though the waves
One day when I was five years old I recall my grandfather asking "Steve, why don't, you go with us to Minnesota next week?" My grandfather was a very important person to me, until he died in 1986. I spent every possible moment of my life either with him or thinking about him. Everything he loved, I loved, and vice-versa. Being bored with my present lifestyle in Peoria and excited about traveling with my grandfather, I took up his offer. After a day long car ride with my father, uncle, and grandparents, I arrived at the location that would forever influence and inspire my life: Lost Lake, Minnesota.
As I walk towards the ocean with the sand warm beneath my feet, the waves lap at my ankles, seeming as if they want to pull me out to sea. The sun rises over the horizon, reflecting off the waves and shimmering like gold. The salt air smells tangy as it stings my nose with the smell I crave while I am away from the ocean. The Outer Banks in North Carolina has been my favorite place to go from my first memories. I look forward to going there every summer because there at the ocean I feel at home. It is a place where I can forget every stress in my life and be totally at peace. It is a place where my family can spend time together, not like at home where we all have activities and places to be. The Outer Banks is not a beach where the ocean is forgotten; there is no partying and no boardwalks, nothing but nature to fill your days there. The beach is not crowded to the point where it is hard to even walk to the beach ,and looking for shells is not even an option. This beach is a very peaceful and surreal place. The noises of people do not overwhelm you at this beach; all you can hear are the sea gulls and the waves.
Going threw the thick creek gave an adventurous and intense feeling that I could never forget. In the creek you get the feeling that someone is watching or the feeling that you are lost in the middle of the woods, this was the reason we explored. Getting lost in the woods was something that actually made the day more exciting
Driving there was scenic, if only for the beautiful architecture and shrubbery of multi-million dollar homes. Unfortunately, the ambiance drew curtain after we arrived at the canoe rental stand. Located in the park, which is not untrue, but deceiving so, as the canoe booth is located underneath the Old Mill Subway16. It was also an odd feeling, if wanting the bathroom, since there was none, one had to travel to the prestigious Old Mill Inn, hiking clothes and all. We forced the canoe, dragging it along a beaten path; down along a slop carved in the side of the bank by years of desperate paddlers wrestling it into the water.
There is something about driving through Minneapolis and seeing those tall buildings bigger than you have ever dreamed of. The multi hued sky, shades of orange and pink, counteract perfectly. The echoing lights glisten from the glass windows as the sun sets. I crave walking the streets I have never been. Hearing the chaos and being surrounded by flocks of well dressed people.
I slowly trudged up the road towards the farm. The country road was dusty, and quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle. Only the clear, burbling sound of a wren’s birdsong sporadically broke the boredom. A faded sign flapped lethargically against the gate. On it, a big black and white cow stood over the words “Bent Rail Farm”. The sign needed fresh paint, and one of its hinges was broken. Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine shattered the stillness of that Friday afternoon. Big tires speeding over gravel pelted small stones in all directions. The truck stopped in front of the red-brick farmhouse with the green door and shutters. It was the large milking truck that stopped by every Friday afternoon. I leisurely passed by fields of corn, wheat, barley, and strawberries. The fields stretched from the gradient hills to the snowy mountains. The blasting wind blew like a bellowing blizzard. A river cut through the hilly panorama. The river ubiquitously flowed from tranquil to tempestuous water. Raging river rapids rushed recklessly into rocks ricocheting and rebounding relentlessly through this rigorous river. Leaves danced with the wind as I looked around the valley. The sun was trapped by smoky, and soggy clouds.
What did I love most about the summer down in Providence, this is a question of rather difficult nature, because what I loved most was not a thing but a feeling. The feeling of strolling leisurely down the roads of campus, the feeling of fall haunting you way earlier than one would expect it. Providence, what a wonderful town. Small, old, english houses, with beautiful white window cills and lovely red brick exposed towards the street. It seemed like someone had painted the town and then forgot about it.
Have you ever visited a place so beautiful and serene that you couldn’t imagine a more stunning place? For me, it is the shimmering and flowing waters of the ocean. The way that the deep blue waters meet the gritty beige sand leaves me in such awe. The water is like a soft blanket, comforting and inviting. The unique wildlife and vegetation that exists on the beach is something I’ve never seen anywhere else. There is no place more beautiful and thrilling than the beach.
I have not had many meaningful moments with nature, even though I have many encounters with it. But the encounter that is the most prevalent in my mind is my vacation at Willow Lake, Minnesota. Here I had encounters with nature on the water, out bike riding, and watching a storm come in the distance.