On Top of the World
This winter wonderland called Austria is full of small villages surrounded by snow capped mountains that look like someone has come along with some icing sugar and generously topped each one. Mountain after Mountain clustered together, with pine trees placed here and there that are dappled with snow. A real life picture post card with chocolate box wooden houses and roof tops covered in crisp clean snow. Pretty balconies with people sat enjoying a glass or two of the local Gluevine which tastes of hot red wine with a hint on cinnamon that warms your very soul. People sat inside the houses in front of raging log fires cosily wrapped in thick warm blankets with a huge mug of hot chocolate covered with a generous topping of grated chocolate.
Going up the mountain in the lift with the mountains leering over you like a huge dragon ready to pounce and the tiny houses below getting smaller and smaller as they disappear, passing through fluffy white cotton wool like clouds you must remember to hold on tight as the lift comes to a sudden abrupt jolt just before it reaches its destination at nearly the top of the mountain.
Walking around up here, high above the madness of the world below you find peace within yourself, you feel you are catching up on lost time spent rushing around at home.
Stopping and taking a moment to close my eyes and breath in the fresh clean spring like air then slowly opening them to the wonder of the view around me I feel I’m making the most of life.
Standing here with a whimsical look on my face, life feels magnificent, and it feels good to be alive watching the children playing in the snow with glowing red tipped noses and rosy cheeks there smiles telling a story of happiness and freedom to just be children unrestricted by the rules of the world below. Adults free of the troubles of everyday life with huge smiles enjoying the local culinary specialities like large bowls of hot delicious soup with great chunks of fresh bread.
How wrong I was to feel so daunted at the thought of my first winter holiday being on top of an artic slushy snow laden mountain freezing to death for a whole week didn’t exactly fill me with excitement and wonder. Before me is the most incredible view I’ve ever seen, I always believed that good old Blighty was the prettiest place on earth with its countryside of rolling hills and lush green landscape.
Mary Oliver uses the vivid descriptions to show how she saw the first snow. Oliver accounts for every scene of the beauty she encountered. In this poem, she shares many different images, all which have very intense and powerful meanings. She used words such as smolder, glitter, and shining to show an intense way to describe snow. For example “the broad fields/ smolder with light” (Oliver 645, 24-25), which means the fields glisten mildly. Also “Trees/ glitter li...
When Nick Carraway describes the west, his west, he portrays it with a sense of calm and jubilation. When he and the train carriage which he is in pulls into a station in the Midwest, he says the following, “When we pulled out into the winter night… the snow… began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights… a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air”. In this quote, there is a sense of happiness and welcoming, as the snow is described as stretching out toward Nick Carraway and the people he’s travelling with, and twinkling against the windows. This shows welcoming, as something reaching out to someone is a rather welcoming feeling. Snow is sometimes characterized as something which makes one happy; therefore, it must be a source of happiness to Nick Carraway and the people he’s travell...
5) Ramond, M. Observations on the Glaciers. From website by Miall, David. Romantic Travellers. Course Home Page. January 2005-May 2005. Dept. of English, University of Alberta. March 26, 2005. http://www.ualberta.ca/~dmiall/Travel/Glaciers.htm
On a tiny snowflake floating through the air, exists the town of Who-ville, home of the Whos. The town is joyously preparing for the coming of Christmas. The opening scene is full of noise and excitement with the townspeople hustling and bustling about shopping for gifts. Cheerful Christmas music plays in the background while the countdown until Christmas Day is announced over the town’s loudspeaker. Bright colors combined with unusual hairstyles are seen on the people of Who-ville. The town itself is covered with a multitude of lights, decorated trees, and wreaths.
A familiar sound, yet somehow different. Blinding rays of sun pound on any bare skin that it can find. Out of breath, yet every time a breath is taken it tastes somehow more fresh than those that were taken just hours ago. Water has never tasted as good as it does now. Not a single tree blocks my sight of the vast landscape surrounding. As far as the human eye can register are planes and smaller mountains that seem like nothing compared to Humphrey’s peak; appearing almost as if they could be devoured in a single bite if wanting a light snack. The mountains dissipate into the far land; the decreased visibility makes the far land around me seem like a ghostly
Robert Frost’s poem Desert Places (1936) begins to stimulate the reader’s visual senses in the first stanza. The poem begins, “Snow falling
“Blackfish” has had people thinking about the tragic events happening at SeaWorld and the reasons behind it. SeaWorld tried to cover up the deaths of trainers, but the truth will always be set free. The trainers who have been killed, even one of the well known trainers, Dawn Brancheau, were blamed for the incidents caused by the killer whales even though they had no control over how the animals lashed out. The trainers knew that keeping any animal locked up could not be good. The documentary questions if keeping the whales in captivity was the best idea. SeaWorld’s most popular whale, Tilikum, killed his trainer Brancheau, and there are many theories on why he
Millions of people visit Sea World each year (The Fate). They crowd into Shamu Stadium to be entertained by the killer whales as they perform. Their eyes widen, and they sit in awe, as these enormous creatures effortlessly propel themselves out of the water. The children in the audience squeal with delight as the orca’s giant tail sends a wave of ice water over the crowd. But these fast-paced, high-spirited shows hide a darker reality. They are designed to mask the reality of the bare, cold concrete walls that the Orcas are forced to call home. It’s time for people to realize the plight of these mammals. Keeping Orcas in captivity is both harmful and cruel.
As a child growing up in a rural county, I didn’t have soccer practice or dance recitals; no play dates or playgrounds. I had trees to climb, woods to explore, bikes to ride and adventures to be had. I had bare feet in the grass, wincing on the gravel driveway, rocks digging into my soles. I had walnuts to crush, plums to eat, flowers to pick, bugs to catch. I had my little brothers to bug me, my mom to take care of me, my dad to laugh with me and my grandparents to hold me. I had books to read, worlds of words to get lost in. I had Saturday morning cartoons, Sunday morning church, and fireflies to catch every night.
The crisp New Hampshire air chilled the private school students with its sickly cold fingers as it would rage by with a fury that would disappear as soon as it came. The grey skies which hovered above stole away the sun so that the warring world around them seemed all the more dismal and depressing. Despite the hanging feeling of dread the weather and World War seemed to influence, the boys themselves were almost giddy with the merry thoughts that plagued their juvenile minds. It was almost the end of the day which would give way to a freezing night where most people would prefer to sleep or stay indoors; however, that was not the case with these merry men of the winter session as they hastily prepared the scenery around them with the promise of prizes, the guarantee of games, and the silhouettes of snow statues.
In Issa’s poem the transition from the image of melting snow to that of children falling on the village is abrupt and jarring. In Muldoon’s poem, the transition is smoo...
In the distance, the ringing of a phone can be heard as fog drifts over the playground. Through the mist and fog, a boy can be seen climbing onto a roof, collecting his ball. He climbs as sure-footed as a cat and ignores the warnings from his peers. Hurried scampering is seen, as students scurry into the building hoping for warmth and shelter. There are some, though, who brave the conditions and continue to go about their business like warriors.
captive by a sheath of frost, as were the glacial branches that scraped at my windows, begging to get in. It is indeed the coldest year I can remember, with winds like barbs that caught and pulled at my skin. People ceaselessly searched for warmth, but my family found that this year, the warmth was searching for us.
“The Snow Man,” by Wallace Stevens, dramatizes a metaphorical “mind of winter”, and introduces the idea that one must have a certain mindset in order to correctly perceive reality. The poet, or rather the Snow Man, is an interpreter of simple and ordinary things; “A cold wind, without interpretation, has no misery” (Poetry Genius). Through the use of imageries and metaphors relating to both wintery landscapes and the Snow Man itself, Stevens illustrates different ideas of human objectivity and the abstract concept of true nothingness. Looking through the eyes of the Snow Man, the readers are given an opportunity to perceive a reality that is free from objectivity; The Snow Man makes it clear that winter can possess qualities of beauty and also emptiness: both “natural wonder, and human misery”. He implies that winter can also be nothing at all: “just a bunch of solid water, dormant plants, and moving air.” (The Wondering Minstrels). “One must
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...