The leaves were coated with a layer frost, while the grass was sprinkled with white flecks. The field behind me was of no good use to the farmer who owned it, the ground was hard, and the cold froze his machinery in the mud he left it in. Winter was coming. My shoes crunched the dying leaves, leaving a massacre of crushed carcasses engraved in the mud. The breeze that usually came was always there, but now it carried a chill that could inflict those weak of coldness. Thankfully, I was raised in a cold region, and the cold was nothing but a welcome to a coming spring. The raising sun finally decided to show itself, it stung my eyes. I pulled my hat down a bit further. Although the sun provided a slight amount of warmth, it appeared to have no effect to the frost that covered the trees around me. Looking up, my eyes reached the little house that I lived in. Time has effected it dearly, as the once lively yellow door, is now nothing but a dark mustard color. The bricks that hold the house together, had fought against countless array of storms from all seasons. The wooden porch was also in no good condition, it to suffered many beatings from the weather. The red roof was once bright, but as I continue looking forward, I see that it has faded. The only things that remained intact were the windows. It was a small house, in a forest where only the sun could find it. When I reached the porch, I turned around and looked back. The solum dirt road was coated with a dying layer of frost. The road would of been truly lonely if not the comforting trees that surrounded it. I squinted my eyes from the sun, and looked beyond the straight, dirt road.
