The Most Peaceful Place I Have Been In my seventeen years on this earth, I have traveled to some unique places. I would say that I have experienced a wide variety of peaceful places. However, my most peaceful took place on a trip with my parents, Kelsey, and Lexia Nichols. I endured an eighteen hour long car ride to Keystone, Colorado. Even though the car ride itself was hectic, our destination was by far the most peaceful place I have ever been. Lake Dillon stood out to me to be the most peaceful place by the way one could sit on the banks and be surrounded by the snow capped mountains, calmness of the lake, and smell of the fresh trees. Seated on the bank of Lake Dillon, I looked at the snow capped mountains and felt as though I was looking
The lake itself left me in awe. The water happened to be very calm so that it appeared as if it were glass. I was so intrigued by how calm it was that I begged for my parents to give Lexia and I permission to kayak across the lake. They ended up saying yes, so that I would quit bothering them. As we kayaked, our paddles would cut through the water like a knife cuts through butter. Doing this action repeatedly was mesmerizing. The times when we stopped and dipped our feet into the lake, Lexia and I were able to look down at the water and see a good ways down. Although both the mountains and the lake itself brought me so much peace and tranquility, the scent of the Aspen and Pine trees still linger in my
Although all these things contributed to making Lake Dillon the most peaceful place I have ever been, it would not be peaceful if God had not created it. How the mountains look, or how the waters move, or even how the different trees let off unique scents. He leaves me in awe daily, and seeing Him through nature reminds me of how powerful He is. The amazing God who created everything knows my name, and wants a personal relationship with me. Lake Dillon brought me peace and reminded me of very important things. Such as, God is in control and is the Creator of all the universe. I still yearn for the day where I can revisit Lake Dillon, and maybe the second time will be even
The lake itself plays a major role throughout the story, as it mirrors the characters almost exactly. For example, the lake is described as being “fetid and murky, the mud banks glittering with broken glass and strewn with beer cans” (125). The characters are also described as being “greasy” or “dangerous” several times, which ties the lake and the characters together through their similarities. The narrator explains, “We were bad. At night we went up to Greasy Lake” (124). This demonstrates the importance that the surroundings in which the main characters’ choose to be in is extremely important to the image that they reflect. At the beginning of the story, these characters’ images and specifically being “bad” is essentially all that mattered to them. “We wore torn up leather jackets…drank gin and grape juice…sniffed glue and ether and what somebody claimed was cocaine” (124). They went out of their ...
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.
In the essay “Once More to the Lake,” E.B. White, uses diction and syntax to reveal the main character’s attitude towards the lake in Maine. He has an uncertain attitude towards the lake throughout the essay because he is unsure of who he is between him and his son. On the ride there White, pondering, remembering old memories, keeps wondering if the lake is going to be the same warm place as it was when he was a kid. The lake is not just an ordinary lake to White, it’s a holy spot, a spot where he grew up every summer. “I wondered how time would have marred this unique, this holy spot-the coves and streams, the hills that the sun set behind, the camps and the paths behind the camps” (29). White’s diction and syntax
"Once More to the Lake," by E.B. White is a short story in which White recalls his annual summer vacations to the lake, and in turn develops a conflict within himself regarding the static and dynamic characteristics of this lake, and their relation to the changes that White himself is experiencing as he is growing older. When White takes his son to the lake, he comes to the sharp realization that certain aspects of both the lake and himself are different, and with a sense of reminiscence, White takes us from the time his father first took him to the lake, and tells the new story of his most recent visit when he is no longer a boy, but a father, showing his son this "holy place" for the very first time. Throughout the story, White comments on how many of the elements of the lake have changed, and how other things have stayed constant with the passage of time.
There are innumerable examples of Montana's good qualities, far too many to name all of them, but several of these examples are the recreation, history and beauty of Montana. Recreation in Montana includes sports like biking, skiing, hiking, and a many more outdoor recreational activities. The wide open areas create almost endless possibilities for outdoor recreation, and the relatively small population decreases the clutter along lakes, trails, streams, and other venues for recreation. Also, the small population and large open spaces have a preserving effect on Montana's historical buildings, monuments, and other objects of historical significance and interest. Montana is able to keep these historical sites safe because demand for these sites both for industrialization and by the general population is not too great. The small population and large open areas also allow for a broad range of wildlife habitation, which is excellent for both recreational activities like hunting and fishing and for wildlife viewing. Montana's beautiful and varied landscapes are also remarkable to view. The towering, craggy mountains; vast, spectacular forests; massive, grassy plains; and numerous lakes, rivers, and streams, many of which are very sparsely populated, are magnificent to behold. All these pleasurable aspects of Montana are direct results of its generally rural environment and would not be possible without this characteristic. It is evident that those who love Montana are most likely in love with its rural setting.
Greasy Lake was once beautiful and clear until the actions of humanity changed it to something that was filled with chaos and destruction. The Native Americans used to call Greasy lake Wakan, which was a reference to its clear waters (Boyle 570). The narrator says that, “Now it was fetid and murky, the mud banks glittering with broken glass and strewn with beer cans and the charred remains of the bonfires” (Boyle 570). The lake acts a symbol because this was where the youth went to party and have the times of their lives. These characters went to Greasy Lake because to them, this was “nature” (Boyle 570). Moreover, the desolate lake could have been a representation of the people who went there in search of fun. The “bad” characters who visited Greasy Lake were associated with the transfiguration of the lake. This once beautiful lake was now a party site which, “…is associated with decay and destruction…”
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
There is no better feeling in this world than to be outdoors with nature, especially when there are numerous activities to dabble in. Often times people take for granted the sentimental value that they can experience by simply walking through a park. God created the Earth to be beautiful and peaceful, and people need to keep it that way. I have always shared a love of the outdoors with my dad and my brother. We have gone on numerous camping, hiking, fishing, and star-gazing trips ever since I can remember. It was no surprise to me when my dad decided to buy a lake house on Hyco Lake, right outside of Roxboro. We got a really good deal on the house, so my dad decided that Hyco Lake was the perfect spot.
First, White uses imagery throughout his essay to create an effective visual of his experiences at the lake. To start his essay, White reflects on his childhood memories of the lake when he and his family visited every summer: “I remembered clearest of all the early morning, when the lake was cool and motionless, remembered how the bedroom smelled of the lumber it was made of and the wet woods whose scent entered the screen.” This passage enhances
I was the first person to ski off of the chairlift that day; arriving at the summit of the Blackcomb Mountain, nestled in the heart of Whistler, Canada. It was the type of day when the clouds seemed to blanket the sky, leaving no clue that the sun, with its powerful light, even existed anymore. It was not snowing, but judging by the moist, musty, stale scent in the air, I realized it would be only a short time before the white flakes overtook the mountain. As I prepared myself to make the first run, I took a moment to appreciate my surroundings. Somehow things seemed much different up here. The wind, nonexistent at the bottom, began to gust. Its cold bite found my nose and froze my toes. Its quick and sudden swirling movement kicked loose snow into my face, forcing me to zip my jacket over my chin. It is strange how the gray clouds, which seemed so far above me at the bottom, really did not appear that high anymore. As I gazed out over the landscape, the city below seemed unrecognizable. The enormous buildings which I had driven past earlier looked like dollhouses a child migh...
the camping and hiking trips I went on as a child and I feel at peace. But
The grass was soft and green, reserved for those who wanted to lie down or sit. A sweet aroma of flowers overflowed near by like s shinning light, but was hidden by the untrimmed bushes and wildly growing trees. Up above me was the beautiful, high noon blue sky spotted with fluffy, white clouds and airplanes flying by. I emerged into the parking lot and stopped happily as a squirrel under a tree. Hesitating to proceed anywhere further I took a few minutes to treasure the moment of silence and peace. As my girlfriend and I got out of the car to get ready for the picnic, she happened to be distracted by the water; a rhythmic ongoing resemblance of rhythm in her heart. The water was clam and beautiful in every aspect. To me she was like a wave, never stooping to catch attention or go unnoticed. Before doing anything else, we began setting up the picnic. By the time we ware done, her temptation was unbearable and was finally unable to overcome it, consequently she eagerly ran towards the water pulling me right behind her. Each step was like an imprint in my heart, a fossil that would always remain the same and special inside me forever.
The familiarity of the woods, the natural urges my body has to be outside and be active in the setting that most people in today’s society only truly see in movies, if that, reminds me of other ventures into the woods, the citrusy smell of pine mixed with the smells of wild grasses and various flowers create an unmatched bombardment of scents. These scents stimulate the mind in a calming way unlike any medication or music ever could. The aroma of the forest sends chills down my spine, causing you to get the urge to explore and to absorb yourself in to the natural wonders the human body
This area of the world is so foreign to my Oklahoma life; it infuses me with awe, and with an eerie feeling of being strongly enclosed by huge mountains, and the mass of tall trees. However, when my foot first steps onto the dusty trail it feels crazily magical. The clean, crisp air, the new smell of evergreen trees and freshly fallen rain is mixed with fragrances I can only guess at. It is like the world has just taken a steroid of enchantment! I take it all in, and embrace this new place before it leaves like a dream and reality robs the moment. As I turn and look at my family, I was caught by my reflection in their impressions. The hair raising mischief in the car was forgotten and now it was time to be caught up in this newness of life. It was as if the whole world around us had changed and everyone was ready to engulf themselves in it. The trickling of water somewhere in the distance and the faint noise of animals all brought the mountains to
I wandered around the path near the lake because it was always peaceful and quiet there in the morning and the trees that hung over the wide walkway only drew me in more. The cool wind blew continuously, and some of the leaves that barely hung on to the branches were pulled along with it. They floated while dropping slowly, and one of the leaves chose my head as a landing spot. I brushed my hair with my hand, not caring if doing so messes up my hair, since the wind already accomplished that job the second I took a step outside my house.