landscape - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The barn blossomed on the hill amid the grass and the meadow flowers, as if one day it sprung up from some precious seed. I guess what I'm saying is, it belonged there, and if it were absent the picture of that landscape would be missing something very special. So though the timbers were aged and the light that streamed in from the holey roof illuminated the dust like ethereal confetti - it was truly a great place, I loved it.
Rock arose from the ground as if it reached for the sky - the peaks of the Alps sculpted by the raindrops of eons. They were green at their base, the forests gathered by nature's wand. Then there were the roads that climbed the Alps, wending this way and that, making tight turns that felt for all the world as a fair ground ride.
The landscape was utterly alien yet made all the more heartbreaking by the familiar debris under our boots. What once was a city is now a wasteland, the twisted metal of the skyscrapers break the skyline like charred trees. I instantly want to return to the countryside, to where there is still life however difficult and monotonous. At least there my eyes can roam freely over the hills and ploughed fields. There I can hear the birds and smell freshness. But this is an expedition for raw materials, it is far easier to scavenge than mine and far better for our mother, the earth. Mostly I cope just fine, but there in the scorched rubble lies a chunk of half-melted plastic that bears just enough resemblance to a baby's car seat that I don't dare kick it over. Whatever is under it will have to stay uncollected, my sanity is more precious than that. It's just as well the graphite clouds block the sun today, it is easier by far to take this grey graveyard in this sombre gloom.
The landscape glowed orange under the burnt sky. It was a series of lakes with hilly crowns, like the hoof prints of some celestial horse. Each was fathoms deep and icy, Lila shuddered to think of what lay within them, in these days of bioengineered beasts you could never tell. Yesterday's fantasy was today's reality. But she did need water and so she edged forwards and slowly sank her canteen beneath the rippling surface. Only when she removed it from the water did she exhale, prematurely as things turned out. When she turned her back to retreat to the trees a great bubble broke the surface, and then another, until the lake appeared to boil. Lila stopped, turned around, then fled. This wasn't something she wanted to stick around for.
The landscape was every vivid colour, every one of them as fresh as a new painting straight from Rome. The brilliant greens banished every dark thought and the sky lifted the eye in a way that brought the villagers to admire the strands of drifting white cloud. The trees were deep with late spring foliage and the flowers rioted in the jubilant way that only the most divine of blooms can.
The landscape was the embodiment of boredom. It was as if the creator had run out all but yellow and blue after creating the forests just a district away. The golden waves of corn stretched in every direction to the horizon where it met the forget-me-not sky. Carmen's stomach rumbled. All this food and nothing to eat unless she pulled off the fat seeds and chewed on them. There wasn't a single landmark other than the sun in the daytime and the constellations at night, but Lila preferred to use her compass; it required less brain-power leaving her more time to think over the next task.
The hills lay charcoal under the sallow moon, feeble rays struggled to shine through the broken layer of cloud. On each peak was a fortress overlooking the valley below, each no more than a barely discernible silhouette against the inky sky. In the valleys would be only the dwellings of the expendables, but even they could be problematic. Freelancers have a great bounty on their heads by default, the kind of money that could change the life of one of those bottom feeders to one of comfort and power. Between here and the gates would be either an eventless journey where Lila's guile cloaked her from both the electronic scanners and opportunistic kidnapping, or she would end her days in these lazy mounds of dirt and rock. She gazed around, how was it this landscape could be so deceptively dull? Running such a guantlet should call for flames and cheering crowds, but moss doesn't applaud and neither do woodland trees. This should be a place of pristine boredom, not foes and danger.
Behind and over us towered Sheba's snowy breasts, and below, some five thousand feet beneath where we stood, lay league on league of the most beautiful champaign country. Here were dense patches of lofty forest, there a great river wound its silvery way. To the left stretched a vast expanse of rich, undulating veldt or grass land, on which we could just make out countless herds of game or cattle, at that distance we could not tell which.
The country was withering away. The landscape was sickly skin laid over bones with high peaking ribs that should've remained hidden. The soil we once farmed had been washed away by the rains that were no longer water alone. We never poured the pollutants into our skies, yet we bought the products from places that did. One planet, one atmosphere, one fate.
A few hundred yards to my right was the lip of the gorge, obscurred by a rise in the land, and rolling away to the left and ahead was the harsher landscape of the Causse, hard parched soil, sagebrush, telegraph poles. Just past the ruined farm, La Prunarede, I turned down a sandy track on the right, and five minutes later I was at the dolmen.
He slowed down to make the road last longer. He passed the big pines and left them behind. Where he walked now the scrub had closed in, walling in the road with dense sand pines, each one so thin it seemed to the boy it might make kindling by itself. The road went up an incline. At the top he stopped. The April sky was framed by the tawny sand and the pines.
urban monotony, drab streets, graffi on walls, dimly lit passageways, tram lines, double decker buses, subway stations, traffic jams, towering condo blocks, busy hum of city life, honking horns, smog, rows of boutique stores, corner grocery store, stalls full of produce spilling out of the green grocers onto the wide avenue,
spectacular, soaring beauty, canal, tow path, tunnel, meandering river, waterfall cascading over rocks, umbrella-like ferns, rough track, single track country lane lined with hedgerows, desolate country road,
The lookout revealed the watercolour blue mountains, still high up, and perching high upon the mountain. Behind the gossamer clouds they could see the silver roof of the hut they planned to be at that night.