Bardeaux
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Jan 6, 2008
- Messages
- 15,066
I'm not sure if there is a similar thread to this already, I couldn't find one via the search engine.
I thought it would be a neat idea to have a thread for setting description. Whether it's your current environment as you're reading this, a fond memory, your favorite hang out spot, whatever.
I'll start:
I still remember those bitter mornings, springing from my bed and into the hot shower as quickly as I could. Sometimes the fire would die out overnight, leaving a frost on the mirror just minutes after stepping out of the warm serenity of my morning shower. When the fire remained radiant until dawn, the secure warmth and deep aroma coming from the stove was a true and genuine pleasure. Stacked beside the stove would be chunks of oak or pine, dried and aged from the previous summer. Late autumn is now upon us and the foresight to stock the house with firewood has been a godsend.
The house is quiet at six in the morning, so much so that the gentle breeze outside can be heard through the windows. Looking outside, the florescent light permeating the darkness is the only visible sight to be seen. Shadows of leaves blowing across the driveway, thin pines bending and swaying with the rhythm of the wind can also be seen with a peer from the kitchen window. The smell of brewing coffee softly compliments the warm aroma of the charring timber.
Daylight is an hour away, but isn’t welcomed here. The ambient sensory stimulation of the dark and tranquil dawn mustn’t be broken by the gradual awaking of life around this quiet little house in Michigan.
Peace, quiet and satisfaction overtake this quiet house on this ordinary November morning.
I thought it would be a neat idea to have a thread for setting description. Whether it's your current environment as you're reading this, a fond memory, your favorite hang out spot, whatever.
I'll start:
I still remember those bitter mornings, springing from my bed and into the hot shower as quickly as I could. Sometimes the fire would die out overnight, leaving a frost on the mirror just minutes after stepping out of the warm serenity of my morning shower. When the fire remained radiant until dawn, the secure warmth and deep aroma coming from the stove was a true and genuine pleasure. Stacked beside the stove would be chunks of oak or pine, dried and aged from the previous summer. Late autumn is now upon us and the foresight to stock the house with firewood has been a godsend.
The house is quiet at six in the morning, so much so that the gentle breeze outside can be heard through the windows. Looking outside, the florescent light permeating the darkness is the only visible sight to be seen. Shadows of leaves blowing across the driveway, thin pines bending and swaying with the rhythm of the wind can also be seen with a peer from the kitchen window. The smell of brewing coffee softly compliments the warm aroma of the charring timber.
Daylight is an hour away, but isn’t welcomed here. The ambient sensory stimulation of the dark and tranquil dawn mustn’t be broken by the gradual awaking of life around this quiet little house in Michigan.
Peace, quiet and satisfaction overtake this quiet house on this ordinary November morning.
