I close the car door and step onto the snow covered pavement. The dogs bark inside of my aunt’s house, and my family and I walk in. I am greeted by my aunts, uncles, and grandma on my dad’s side. My cousins, who are much older than me, sit in the living room enjoying the store bought peanuts, popcorn, and trail mix. I make my way past the crowded kitchen and settle on the stained couch. “Yeti”, the classic Christmas SYFY movie, plays on the TV. Unique ornaments cover the Christmas tree, while the dim Christmas lights reveal the dust that lingers on the worn out wooden floor. Before I know it, Lena and Hanse, my aunt’s two boxers, jump on my lap. They lick, drool, and nibble on me with excitement. I pet the dogs, but gently push them onto my sister. Brianne rolls her eyes, and nudges the dogs onto the floor. My grandma rests on the old rocking chair, laughing at the chaos. My aunt Bev sits on the couch beside my grandma. Both are dressed in Christmas sweaters, and have freshly permed hair. It is hard to keep a conversation with them because they both struggle with hearing. Trying to pay attention to the predictable show, my stomach growls; however, the smells that drift into the living room from the kitchen are not appetizing. Therefore, I take a small bowl of popcorn and trail mix.
My grandma says grace before we eat lunch. The food consists of chicken legs, ham, cheesy potatoes, and a veggie tray. I fill half of my plate with my mom’s cheesy potatoes and vegetables, the
As I draw near to the island on which my dream house awaits, I catch a quick glance of it out of the corner of my eye. It is humongous, and is the most noticeable building in the area. My private steel, elegant jet lands on the octagonal air strip next to the house. I get out of the jet the wind was whistling and blowing my hair back as I started my journey through a heavily wooded path leading to my dream house. I walk with anxiety toward the house at which I will spend the rest of my life. All around me lay the most beautiful gigantic trees and yellow miniature plants I have ever seen. It is peaceful but I can hear the sounds of birds chirping and small forest creatures frolicking in the underbrush. As I continue to walk along the
The familiar smell of soft cookies and homemade cooking are common thoughts when people think about their grandma's house. Great feasts and family gatherings play a part in everyone's grandmother's home. But when I really think about my grandma's house only one word comes to my mind: fun.
Every household has its own individual characteristics that make it functional, while portraying the family. For the private residential space, I decided to focus on my aunt’s house. The space has a slight rustic theme throughout and utilizes natural products in every room. I choose to focus on the kitchen/dining room of this home because it is the center of this household where everyone tends to congregate.
One place that I see every day but don’t put much attention to is my house. The house that I live in is near by a park and a gas station. My house is small and cozy is made of steel frames, the anterior part of the house has a beige and pink color that combine a beautiful shade. The inside of my house has many portraits of family members and drawings. I have a total of two bathrooms and four rooms a kitchen and two living rooms. We have a living room that’s used for grown-ups and the other one is used for the children. The kitchen table and chairs are made of wood, in the ceiling there is big chandelier. The walls of my house are painted in different colors that are green, beige and pink. I like that every room has its own different color, it’s not boring it brings life and shade.
The day was definitely not perfect. The trees stood up tall, but with no leaves. The day was cold, with clouds and no sun. And of course, there was a van, parked in my driveway, waiting for me to hop in and take me to a new home.
When you step into my room, the first thing you will notice is the golden afternoon sunlight fluttering in and dancing around because of the large sycamore trees outside my window. The window is fairly large, as my house is a Cape Cod style home. The reason for the window being so large is that it is one of the primary dormer windows on the second floor that front the street. The window is also set in alcove that is approximately two feet deep, and is framed with white wooden shutters on both sides. I have always been a very optimistic and happy person, and this large window letting in the golden light of nature is a fantastic representation of my personality.
My grandmother’s house has a very special place in my heart. As the family has gotten older and we have all had our own children we do not visit as we should. I visited with my grandmother many times when I was little. Her house always seemed to have something about it that set it apart from all the rest. As you walk into the back door of her house you would notice a long, narrow kitchen that led into the main living and dining room of her house. The smell of food home cooked food was quite evident. Grandmother cooked every day and always cooked big meals on holidays for the family.
Everyone has a “dream house”, they just rely on your opinions and beliefs. You can have a modern dream house, or maybe a vintage dream house. You can also either live in the woods, in the city, or even right by the beach! You can be by yourself, or you can have lots and lots of roommates. You can have lots of neighbors, or maybe even none at all! You could live off of a mountain, or maybe on a paved street.
As I am walking home from school I take the time to look around my surroundings. Leaves a variety of reds, oranges and yellows descend from the trees and encase the ground like a blanket. The wind begins to pick up, building miniature vortexes with the leaves and dropping them off to their new locations. There is not much to Stowe, Vermont: a couple of convenience stores, a few diners scattered, parks and widely spaces houses that stretch down for a few miles. Extravagant would not be the leading word to describe this town, but I love it nonetheless.
The back door of the moving truck slammed shut, making me slightly jump gasping in surprise. I turned in my seat and look at the house, I've lived my whole life in. Gloomily I stare remembering all the happy and sad times I've had here.
Beep beep beep. My eyes fluttered open as I reached to turn off my alarm. The clock read 5:30 AM. Slowly I made my way to the bathroom to get ready. The floor felt cold under my feet as I tried to miss the certain spots I knew would wake up the household. As I stood in front of the mirror, my eyes still crusted with sleep, I told myself to be strong. Cold water dripped down my neck and shirt as I massaged the lather into my skin. I noticed the droplets that had formed at the ends of my eyelashes, trying with all their might to hold onto the slick strands. Waltzing to my closet I tried to push aside my swaying thoughts. I slid on my favorite skirt and twirled in front of the mirror. I loved how it flew, the way it moved up and down like a carousel ride. I admired the fabric with its tangle of flowers interweaving through the vines. The flowers seemed a little droopy today. I brushed my hair until it was as soft as a kitten’s coat. I began to apply my makeup, with more effort than usual. The soft brushes tickled my cheeks as they concealed my imperfections. The droplets on my eyelashes had vanished and I coated the strands in thick layers of my best mascara. I wanted to look perfect.
Pebbles fly as my Jeep takes a corner too fast, my body lurching to the left at the sudden force of the turn. I’m finally on Green, a quiet dirt road that stretches from Bennett Lake to Parshallville, a scenic detour I ride down that lets me clear my head. I’ve only lived in the area for two years, but those two years gave me something timeless--a home. My home isn’t some conventional house in the suburbs, although I did live in such a house, but it is the roads and the fields that webbed their way throughout and past my city, and the memories I make with others while on them. I glance at my sister Ken next to me; her right arm stretching lazily out of the window, the other scrolling the radio’s knob, attempting to find a worthy song to play. She’s only nineteen, with hair shorter and blonder than my own. Her presence soothes me, as if every pleasant memory we grew up making together was somehow brought back through each of her smiles. She is my closest friend; she not only provides the part of my home that allows me to be heard by someone who understands, but also the knowledge that we cherish the same home. I pull my attention away from her, watching the fields and houses quickly slip by. The few farmhouses we pass begin to fade until all that borders the road are giant trees, each tipping over us to create a canopy of leaves.
There is one thing that is common in most small, rural Southern towns; appliances on the porch. From deep-freezers to washing machines, if there’s not room in the house you can guarantee there is room on the porch and an extension cord long enough to plug it in. No one thinks it’s unusual as everyone in the neighborhood does it. That’s especially true for the humble, one-stop-light town I was brought up in. The house I lived in my entire childhood had a deep-freezer on the back porch; my second cousin, who lived next door, had a wringer washing machine on her front porch. That washing machine would lead to an incident involving a shotgun, scissors, a trip to the ER and a lifetime of jokes.
Living in a city can make you forget the outside world. You forget about the green grass, the trees, the chirping birds, the animals, and so many other things the world has to offer. We also forget the people who came before us, who did so much for us, who built everything we have today. We’re so busy doing stuff that is unimportant, that we forget about the stuff that is. Getting a house in Connecticut, made me realize all these things. It made me more in touch with nature and history. I got my country house about 8 years ago, and I think it changed me for the better.
On a dry hot day in the middle of August, I was awaken to mother’s happy voice saying, “We ‘re here guys!” My excited family and I had just arrived at our two-story brick house at a beautiful resort called “Ding Ding Castle” in Orlando, Florida. My mom, Aunt Wanda, Uncle TJ, cousin Cameron, friend Ronald, Grandmother Doris, Granddad Carlton, sister Kenzie, cousin Kaylan, and I were all planning on staying one long week together. When I got out of the car, I immediately smelled the fresh air and smoke from someone having a barbeque nearby and could taste the fresh grass that had just been finely cut. The bright yellow sun was beaming down on us, making me sweat instantly. I looked around and saw the rows of houses next to each other and noticed that each one had its own personal swimming pool in the back. There were tall palm trees in each yard and every house had new and shiny cars in the driveway. Our house was two stories high and was made of bright red bricks that made it stand out from all of the other houses. The house was surrounded with light green grass and had a porch with dark blue chairs sitting in a row. It was definitely one of the biggest and prettiest houses I had ever seen