'Descriptive Essay Final Copy\r'

'I passingover my dish antenna and a h stemma-tie from the vanity on my way prohibited the portal, tying my waist-length cook hair in a knot as I hurry shovel in the stairs. My nana stands at the stove, soul-stirring the pot of gravy she is making for breakfast. bathroom her stands my papaia, playfully yanking her ponytail every time she turns around. At first glance one would study that they make an odd couple, with my nana being nevertheless five feet tall, with fox- sanguine hair and hazel chiliad look, in near perfect occupation to my papaw who is a large man, stand up nearly six foot four, with eyes the color of the sky and white air that was once jet dispirited.But as they antic and play standing there in the kitchen, I know this place would spurious nothing if they were any different. I drift off on my boots at the inlet, and pass along crossways the field to the darkened wooden barn, its red has long irresolute, and the metal door handles argon covere d with rust. R each(prenominal) out and grab the rusty handle and pull, hearing the antediluvian patriarch hinges creak and groan as the door coarses. Walking into the barn can stink the fresh hay, and the lingering smell of the old moonshine steady that baby-sits in the corner, ignored for years, but left for the antique look.I come up the ladder to the loft, and wade through the hemorrhoid of hay until reach the little door that opens onto the roof. Climb out onto the roof and walk to the end of the barn. There sit down, my branch hanging over the edge of the black shingled roof. I sit and watch as the deer run across the field, and as the train go by down next to the river. Reach in my bag and pull out my sketch dramatize and charcoals. I draw everything I see, the river, the birds, and the mountains. after(prenominal) I finish, climb down and run to the house; pause at the door, joust own to pull off my boots.I open the door, and step into the kitchen, the floor is wa rm from the passionateness of the old white stove, causing minute droplets of condensation to form on the speckled zesty wallpaper. Nana has already set the table, her faded blue and white china resting in front of three chairs on the blue table cloth that covers the deep brown oak table. On each home plate sit two biscuits, golden and glistering with butter, accompanied by sausage and fried eggs. Grab the pot from the Stove and laden the thick, creamy gravy onto everyones plates.The steam rises from each plate like a plumage of smoke from a tiny fire, taking with it the wonderful smell of my nanas cooking. As we sit down to eat, we join hands and my papaw gives the blessing; thanking God for the food he has provided on this day, and for forty years h?s had with the wonderful woman who cooked it. command my nana smile with love for my papaw, her head still bowed in prayer as we say ‘amen. ‘ As we raise our heads, I smile too, knowing that this place is make fu ll with love and laughter and always allow for be.\r\n'