The autumn passed by slowly, almost unnoticed dragging heavy and chilly days of coming winter. The year of 2012 was the year when the white queen crept sluggishly into our warm home, as her icy, freezing hands tightly embraced the Olovo, the small town in central Bosnia. While sitting in a warm home and looking out on the mist enveloping the town, my dad thought how it is a perfect time of a year to spend on the mountain and enjoy all the beauty the winter has to offer. Without any questions my brother and me started packing our ski equipment and clothes knowing that this is going to be one great weekend and a nice family reunion. I just came home from the United States for the Christmas break, and well, one could not ask for a better gift than to spend a part of its winter break on the mountain with its family. We go to the mountain every year; it is our little tradition, but for the past two years I did not come home over the winter, and thus I was so happy to relive the experience in the cozy, wooden cottage in the hearth of the mountain with my family, which defines me. As the white ships sailed the sky and gentle, white snowflakes like divine ballerinas danced falling gracefully on the streets and rooftops on the nippy morning, my family was already in the car driving towards the mountain …show more content…
The waiter offered us a wide selection of drinks and tasty dishes from the local cuisine, and suggested honey Rakija, the Bosnian liquor, as the special drink of the house. Without second thought I ordered the Rakija, golden color liqueur with bitter sweet taste; sweet at the beginning, but very bitter as it went down my throat. It is our traditional, homemade drink that we usually drink in special occasions such as this one was. As I was drinking Rakija, waiter approached me and made a joke, telling me that after drinking few of these I would be just fine going outside and skiing even in a
The freezing wind had chilled my hand to the bone. Even as I walked into my cabin, I shivered as if there was an invisible man shaking me. My ears, fingers, toes, and noes had turned into a pale purple, only starting to change color once I had made a fire and bundled myself in blankets like ancient Egyptians would do to their deceased Pharaohs. The once powdered snow on my head had solidified into a thin layer of ice. I changed out of the soaking wet clothes I was wearing and put on new dry ones. With each layer I became more excited to go out and start snowboarding. I headed for the lift with my board and my hand. Each step was a struggle with the thick suit of snow gear I was armored in.
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
“Winter Dreams.” Short Stories for Students. Ed. Carol Ullmann. Vol. 15. Detroit: Gale, 2002. N. pag. Gale Virtual Reference Library. Web. 23 Mar. 2011.
muttering of tepees, the blowing snow, the white air of the horses' nostril . . .
They woke up and trudged on, through the deep and treacherous snow. “Roar”, all of them stopped in their tracks, they looked around but saw nothing except for the thick blanket of pure white snow.
Several years ago, it was an early Christmas morning at my Grandparents house. The sun was pouring through the windows and the smell of breakfast still hung in the air. The setting was optimal for a great day of happy memories that would only be recalled in short term. What was to follow was anything but a short term memory. Sledding at Indian Hill had been a family tradition. This menacing hill seemed to slope straight down and I can remember standing at the bottom and feeling like I was about to embark a three day hike up a mountain. Looking back on it now, I am not even sure that it was that steep. But at seven, this monstrous hill was like a mortal enemy.
We set out to our hunting spot early in the morning. An early morning frost sparkled in the morning light like a young child's eyes on Christmas morning. The cold lashed at my skin. It was so cold that we decided to hunt out of the truck. Dad’s truck was an old, blue Toyota, which was usually
I stepped out of the chilly November air and into the warmth of my home. The first snowfall of the year had hit early in the morning, and the soft, powdery snow provided entertainment for hours. As I laid my furry mittens and warm hat on the bench to dry, I was immediately greeted with the rich scent of sweet apple pie, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and the twenty-pound turkey my mother was preparing for our Thanksgiving feast.
It was an average weeknight in December. A light snow fell as my family and I drove through the brisk evening air. We were motoring
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.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
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 that was predicted to be several inches by the end of the weekend quickly piled up to around eight inches by that evening. At times, the snow was falling so heavily you could hardly see the streetlights that glistened like beacons in a sea of snow. With the landscape draped in white, the trees hangi...
Ever since I could remember, I have spent Christmas at my grandmother’s house, a house which is full of comfort, warmth, and happiness. At Christmas, I have always been able to escape the cold and dark real world allowing myself to truly enjoy just several moments in time. These moments have left impressionable memories from my childhood making Christmas a holiday that is special to me and my family. It is a time for my family to get together, share stories, laugh, and even cry.
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.