Essay 15

Maddy Neff

English 9

Mr. Salsich

February 14, 2010

The Cold Season:

An Essay about Winter

The woodstove begins to breathe its heat into the chilled rooms of the house. The pine trees sway and pop as the lonely wind races through their branches. The maple trees have given up their fiery dresses. The geese have fled the frosty edges of the swamp. It is cold. Winter is here.

Winter is my least favorite time of year. I prefer summer, when the sun is near and the air is thick and filled with the sounds of life: birds, shrieking children, cicadas in the trees. In the winter, life is gone, sleeping in the frozen soil. Everything seems dead, cold, and dry, drained of vitality. I could very easily get lost in all the darkness of the winter months, when I pine for warm summer days (subordinate clause), but luckily, I find some comfort in the small pieces of life that peek through in wintertime. A cardinal's crimson suit against the white snow, the brightness of the stars in the inky black sky on a cold, clear night, my dad's red hat with the cozy earflaps I always borrow, and hot soup and bread are the things that make me happy in winter (relative clause). Though I often wish I could live on a tropical island, I know that I would miss winter in New England. I would miss the strange freshness the day after a snowstorm, when everything is clean, covered in white. I would miss the winter trees, their spindly branches reaching up to the cobalt sky like bony hands. I would miss bundling up to go for a walk in the cold biting air, watching my breath rise in clouds, crunching through the frozen white covering the ground. Even though I prefer warmer times, these winter gifts make me so happy, and I realize that I am glad for winter.

When I think of winter, a memory always flashes in my mind. When I was younger, the frosty earth provided me with hours of fun. When winter arrived, and the ground became frozen, I would rush outside with a small shovel and start stabbing it enthusiastically into the ground. I was pretending to be a jewel miner. The frosted ground made ice crystals in the soil, and I was always very excited to go excavating for them. When the first frost comes each year, I think of this winter memory.

I know winter has arrived when my dad starts chopping wood, and the green pine needles are the only organic colors left outside, and the geese have trumpeted their way south. Even though winter is not the best time of the year for me, I did enjoy the prime ice jewel hunting as a child. These days, I can still find little treasures in the harsh winds and snowstorms, cold pearls tucked away in the sands of frozen soil. These hidden winter gems make winter worth the chill.

Self Assessment

1. One writing issue I am continuing to work on is adding some more special words. I think I could use the thesaurus more often to make the writing more interesting.

2. One possible strong point I see in this essay: Even though my topic, "Winter," was very broad, I think I still kept the essay unified, and I tried not to drawl on too much.

3. One possible weak point I see: This essay doesn't really have a purpose, other than to tell the reader about my own personal thoughts on winter. I could have written it in a different way so that the essay had a clearer message.