winters day - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I was cold, even with my sweater and my coat, but it didn't matter. The day was illuminated with that special cold, pale light only winter's Sun could give, and the rain from last night made everything glow with a really slippery ice. It was clear that if it rained that night again, it would fall snow instead of water from the sky. It was the perfect day for staying home, but I had to exit from my house.
With that revitalizing cold and the soft air, I was stupidly afraid that my tears might freeze as they were falling over my face, but they only kept going down and making my cheeks feel even colder than the rest of my body.
Leaving aside my broken, frozen heart, of course.
The trees stand starkly in the winter morning like x-rays of their summer selves, only in reverse; black on white. They look so forlorn in the frigid early evening, with already the short winter daylight fading. I attempt to lean on the bus stop like I can in summer, but on these winter days it's icy and the metal quickly soaks up the body heat from my shoulder leaving me as cold as those trees. I shiver and stamp my feet, peering into the encroaching gloom, watching for the right headlights, bus headlights. My breath rises before me, puffs of moisture from my lungs and I think of how I don't really notice I'm breathing in the warmer seasons. Then as the steely clouds make good on their promise and begin to sleet I spy the headlights and my heart leaps. Now I can think of home, dinner, warm socks and thick soup. I'm going to sit by the fire with a book and a hot drink, then I'll soak in a lavender bath.
I had wished for snow but all that came was driving freezing rain. On the street there was nothing crisp, pretty or clean, just some old snow that had become dark grey with the pollution belched out by the passing trucks and cars. The near gale wind made an umbrella impossible and so the best that could be done was to wear a full length raincoat and tighten the hood around my face. Even then the cold was bitter and after only minutes my skin felt raw and the pants between the edge of my jacket and the boots was soaked through. Sunlight struggled through the dense grey cloud above, but the morning was as overcast as a late afternoon.
Frosted air forced it's way into her lungs and stung her eyes. She wrapped her scarf twice around her neck so that it overlapped her bluing lips, hoping that her own exhaled air would be trapped around them in a microcosm of warmth. Yet even then the chill seeped in and her teeth began to chatter. She tensed her muscles, bringing her limbs in closer, and bent her head to the oncoming wind. The loose snow from the ground became tiny missiles in the gust and she began to squint to retain any vision at all. This is the day that winter would claim the Graddoux for the season.
I watched each footfall sink into the crystalline snow as I made my way to the sidewalk, then like I was still five I turned around to see my path laid out behind me in the otherwise pristine white. Just before my head flicked back around I spied the icicles hanging from the stair rail and regretted not snapping one off. I could have licked it, but I guess it's just water. Glancing upward it's easy to tell that were it not for this brilliant blanket at my feet the day would seem overcast and dim, for the sky is a blanket of dark cloud. Somehow I think that those footprints I made will be wiped out before I return.
The street was decorated like a birthday cake, frosting everywhere! And how fitting, to Jenny the start of winter was like a gift. She sucked in the cold air and felt it enter like a tonic. There were long days on the slopes ahead, skiing, snowboarding and making snow angels. Sure the street was slippery, but that was just part of winter. As she made her way down the street she was warmer than she had been in summer time; she strode with confidence and smiled delicately under the morning sun.
The ice melts just a little under my hand, enough for my fingers and palm to be wet. It's deep though, there's no way I can get through it that way. Already the skin feels as chilled as it does when I rearrange the freezer at home. I open and close it to get the blood flowing again and stick it back in my pocket to warm up. I stare at the little catch, such a small piece of metal, but it's enough to keep the gate firmly shut. Climbing over isn't much of an option either, the stairs on the other side are more treacherous than I've seen this winter. I take a step back. It's a longer way around the roads to get there, but arriving in one piece is more important. I give the ice one final stare as if my anger can melt it before stalking off in a pointless huff.
Yesterday's water was now an unbroken sheet of dark ice. The surface was glass-like and with as much give as concrete. Zen heaved the sack of rock salt and tipped until his tupperware was full. He put an exploratory toe on the surface. It was more slippery than a freshly waxed floor; moving forwards he spread the salt like chicken feed. With each step he felt his foot move in an unpredictable way, but he'd done this every winter since they moved up north. It was just part of life here, and in a way he kinda liked it. They had thick coats, warm boots and snow tires...
Lily held out cherry-red hands wide for a hug, her mittened hands looking so sweet and comical. The extra-thick wool and elaborate stitching made them look so much larger than usual, but that was Uncle Bill, always showing his love through knitwear.