a glance out the window
suprise, smiles, and a scramble for boots
first flakes seen all winter

I was 11-years-old and in my dreamplace, Disneyworld. Today happened to be Epcot day and I was excited about this because of my fascination with seeing the silver ball up close. Little did I know that I would become all too familiar witht hat ball. We had been walking around for about and hour, the highlight being the shooting waterfalls, when my already wet feet bacame wetter. Huge raindrops were falling and within 10 minutes the ominous sky told us that our day was cancelled. But how to get to the car? We were stuck in a sweriouis downpour. So like many of the other park-goers we decided to take shelter under the Epcot ball. Let me tell you how excited I was to be standing under a big metal ball at this moment in my life! As I 'snapped' on my pancho, the tears of fright began to fall. I had never been so frightened and with each calp of thunder, my heart pounded faster. My epcot euphoria evaporated.

giant sized golf ball
the thunder roars
shelter or sianar?

childhood dreams
mickey mouse on my clothes
mickey drowns along with my dream.

I was thinking of my family vacations to Wisconsin every summer. We always had the cabin by the lake. This one to two week vacation was so relaxing. I can remember when my baby sister was born on June 23, 2000; so on our vacation that year she was only a month and a half old, a new born. And I remember my dad holding her in his arms while annah slept. And when she awoke she would move her tiny arms and hands. So these next 3 haikus are about my memories of our Wisconsin vacations.

the quiet lake
laughter in the distance
full moon high above

Editing Suggestions: word “quiet” not very powerful image, perhaps replace with a visual image that would imply the same sense of quiet…for example, “the still lake”

“laughter in the distance” seems perhaps a little wordy…cutting out extraneous words, the author could maybe simply it to “distant laughter”

“high above” also not too powerful of an image. When people picture the moon, they already picture it above them…perhaps the author could present his or her readers with more detail about the visual image after taking out “high above”

I might also suggest a reordering of the haiku in order to separate the visual and sound images in order to create a more clear image.

Edited:

moonlight reflects
on the still water
distant laughter

a table of cards
the old woman reaches for pennies
white zinfandel swirls the glass

marshmellows over a fire
water hits the shore
the baby sleeps soundly

I had a backyard that was completely surrounded by bushes. At dusk my neighbor, my sister, and I would go out and play after dinner. We played anything from tag to catching fireflies. I however was afraid to touch the fireflies. They always caught more than me because I was the youngest.

My parents would sit inside the house and watch TV. When it was time to go in they would come to the door and call us. At that time we let the fireflies go and watched my neighbor leave through the hole in the bushes. They were always warm nights. If we stayed out too late I would get scared. I was afraid of animals coming out of the bushes and chasing us.

Every night we would do the same thing. The routine was set and no one wanted to change it. It seemed that the sun would set later and later as the summer went on. Reality was that by our fun we made the days seem longer.

the sun
it seemed as if
the days never ended

Editing Suggestions: The last two lines of this Haiku can be simplified into the phrase “endless days,” which would then leave the haiku open to the inclusion of a clearer image
“the sun” does not create a very powerful image, because nothing has been mentioned in this poem of what kind of day it is…is the sun warm? Bright? Blinding? Perhaps the author could even talk about the sun beams as a descriptive part of the memory, rather than just mentioning the sun. Doing so would create more of an interactive image between the person in the poem and the sun, itself.

I would even suggest that the term “endless days be moved to the beginning of the haiku, which would then set the tone for the poem.

Edited:

endless days
the sunbeam mingles
with the warmth of evening

night
time has flown by
the animals come out

last place
the little girl
gets the least

Every summer, my dad and I have gone on an annual fishing trip. Each summer we would go to Jim's (a friend of my dad) house on the river. He also had a pond near his house. When we started 12 years ago, Jake (Jim's son) was 4 when we started. Although the pond is mentioned in the haiku, I am reminded of the trips we took down the river in canoes. Typically, my dad and I would leave for Jim's house on a Friday.

As soon as we arrived, we took off for the water. We would start floating down the river with all the fishing and camping supplies we would need until Sunday. We would just float down the river with the occasional cast into the water. As soon as the sun went down, we would find a place on the side of the river to set up tents and cook dinner. At night we would chat about different world events, or even personal stories from the past year.

The next day we would get up as soon as the sun rose. We take down the tent, and clean up the area. Then, we are back on the river. During the day we occasionally stop to have snacks or make a sandwich. The next night would be very similar to the night before, but with different conversation. In the morning, we clean up and float down to where Jim's wife has parked the truck. Only one year to our next trip.

canoe
i am at the back
for the first time

splashing water
friends run in the river
chasing minnows into the net

dad speaks with an old friend
trying to hear
over campfire sounds

Almost 2 years ago my niece was born. She was born on a bright spring day in April and I had rushed home from school to meet her for the first time. As I walked into the hospital room my sister-in-law and brother were in with the rest of my family, my jaw dropped as I was finally looking at my baby niece. I remember she was wrapped up pretty tight in her blankets, but as any concerned family member would do at first, I started making sure she was ok physically. The first thing I saw move was her chest from breathing, then I looked down and one of her feet had halfway slipped out of her blanket. As I examined it and counted it's toes she stretched and her toes spread as wide as they could go. It was absolutely beautiful. I rememeber the mediciny smell of the hospital, the off-white and serene look of the walls and furniture in the room, the sun shining brilliantly through the window, and most of all a brand new feeling of closeness between my immediate family and my brother's in-laws. We had become one family. And the only thing in the world that seemed to matter was the day old girl sleeping in my sister-in-law's arms.

off-white walls
through white tears
happy birthday

or

off-white walls
through tears
happy birthday

pink blanket
engulfs her
first yawn

or

first yawn
her pink blanket
engulfs her

smiling down—
cradled on the pillow
her eyes open

I remember going to school one morning, only a month after I started 6th grade. I had heard on the radio that a kid in my class had accidently hung himself while playing with a noose. He and his sister were outside their home and he had found the noose in their garage. They decided to take it outside and play pretend with it. He hung it from a low branch and proceeded to step up onto a bucket. He placed the noose around his neck and just as he did this, he lost his footing. His sister tried to help but with no luck. She ran to get some help from inside the house. By the time they had returned, it was too late.

The radio said that boy was thirteen so I secretly hoped that perhaps there was more than one person with the same name and that it wasn't the boy in my class. It was a sort of false hope, I guess. As I arrived at school that day, his desk was indeed empty next to me. The next day it had disappeared. One desk short.

in a moment's time
a friend vanishes from sight
his life remembered

leaf dangling loosely
clinging tightly to false hope
falling in the end

another school day
children play before class starts
one boy is missing

or

another school day
children play before class
one boy missing

I think this Haiku is too wordy. I think it would sound better if the words “starts” and “is” should be omitted. —Miranda B

Summer evenings I would go out into the backyard with my family to relax, and my sister and I would chase “lightening bugs” or fireflies around are yard. I would often times capture the firefly in my jar that I would have with me, because I thought it would be cool to have it in a jar…not knowing I would be killing it. I can remember the greenish light that the fireflies give off, and how amazed I was at seeing that creature in action.

empty
closets
memories abound

or

empty
closet
memories abound

spiky, green
it stands tall
wide

back yard
summer night
captured

or

glowing glass jar
captured memories
of summer nights

I remember being at my great grandmother's funeral. I was just a little kid when my great grandma passed away, but I can still remember my parents telling me and my brother and sister that she had died. I didn't really know my great grandma very well. I was young, and I had only seen her several times, but she was the first person that I knew that had died. I remember going to the wake and seeing all of my relatives there. Everyone was dressed in black, and there were people crying. I remember walking up to the open casket and seeing my dead great grandmother lying there. I didn't think it was she, at first, because she looked so much thinner. It was really eerie, because this was the first dead body that I had ever seen. This is probably why I still remember all of this.

After the wake, my parents drove to the cemetery. When we got there, it was raining. I walked up to the gravesite where everyone was gathered around the grave. Everyone looked so sad, and I could hear the pastor speaking. I looked down at the ground, and I saw a brown snake slither through the wet grass. I am afraid of snakes, but for some reason it fascinated me, so I followed it through the cemetery.

rain and tears
a snake leads me
past the dead

laid to rest
into the wet earth
a serpent slithers

I remember a time in my childhood while living in Asheville N.C. I used to just take walks or journeys through the woods in the mountains near my house. I can vividly remember waking up one morning and taking a hike with some family friends. We hiked up the mountain and then started into the woods soaking up the sounds and smells and colors of nature all around us. As we walked through the woods we would stop and taste the honeysuckle and just savor the flavor and the moment that we had. The next steps we took were toward a small creek that flowed down the mountain. We stopped and sat on some rocks for a while and took a break then back to home for lunch.

After lunch we all swam in our pool, splashing around and wearing ourselves down. Next thing it was getting dark and we all wanted to stay outside because it was so nice out.

So we had dinner outside on our very large porch, and watched the firefiles dance all around us. My friends Molly and Maggie and I decided to catch some fireflies, so my mother went and got us some jelly jars that were just perfect to use for a firefly castle. We just chased them all night until we couldn’t catch anymore. I remembered their beautiful lights just glowing in the jelly jars. We had a sleepover that night and we all brought our firefly castles to bed with us. We wanted to watch them glow all night until they didn’t glow anymore. I fell asleep to that glow and will never forget it.

trickling water
over rocks
long hike

or

long hike over rocks
finally water
flowing and clear

glass castles
fireflies
glowing until dawn

childhood adventure
in wooded mountain
bell rings

or

bell ringing
up the mountain
the adventure continues

or

trees in a maze
at the foot of the mountain
child's laughter echoes

My grandmother taught my mother to sew, and then many years later, my mother taught me to sew. Sewing may seem as unnecessary like a past time such as hunting or fishing, but the bonding that occurs between individuals during that time is monumental. No matter how many arguments my grandmother, mother, and I have engaged in we can always unite and gossip over sewing.

It is tradition in our family for the mothers to teach their daughters how to sew. So far, my mother has been the only daughter of four to learn how to sew while I have been the only grandchild to take up sewing as even a hobby. For me, reading Lyles' poem about sewing and her description of winding back thread from half a life ago alludes to the transition from mother to daughter. I associate the sewing in the poem more specifically to quilting. As a form of art, quilting is one of the ways that women have been able to express themselves and speak out about issues directly involving women socially and historically.

fresh white linen
sewn with three hairs
one heart

steadying my daughter's hand
the sounds of the scissors
my mother's memory

plants move
beneath the pond's dark surface
scattered stars

Peggy Lyles, THTR, p. 74

This haiku made me think about my childhood. When I was little my Grandparent's owned a lake lot in a nearby town. Every summer, my family would spend every weekend at the lake. We would get there early in the afternoon and we would not leave until dark. I can remember sitting along the cement wall staring at the water, seeing the reflection of the moon and stars. When I would sit there, I would daydream about who I would become in the future and what it was going to be like to be an adult. Like every other little girl, I would dream about the man that I would marry, the person who I would be able to bring to the lake to make new lake memories. I could not wait to be in high school like my other cousins. My older cousins always would bring their boyfriends to the lake. However, when I was in high school, I rarely brought my boyfriend to the lake. In fact, I barely went to the lake myself. The only time I would go was for the Fourth of July. The lake would always have a fireworks show off the island. I loved watching the fireworks reflect off of the lake. Even though, my grandparents sold the lake lot, I am still very fond of the memories.

sitting on the cement wall
moon reflecting on the lake
daydreaming of “Mr. Right”

or

perched on my cement wall
daydreaming
of "Mr. Right"

About four years ago now, I was a senior in high school and had been accepted to Millikin. We received in the mail an invitation to a local Millikin student family's house to learn more about the university and ask any questions we had before deciding to attend. The family's house was in a well-to-do neighborhood and designed in a way that was supposed to be aesthetically pleasing to those who have money. I was one of about four potential students and their parents that attended the event. One that I recall was a jazz musician with long, curly hair and a similarly quirky father. Another was a slightly overweight blond girl whose mother did most of the excited talking. The meeting itself was unbearably boring and undeviatingly dull, much like the owners of the house, who did not really seem to know much about Millikin at all. Likewise, their son did not seem to know answers to the most mundane of questions, such as how laundry was done. He remained in his room for the majority of the time, cementing my impression that it was, in fact, the parents who were the Millikin fans.

At one point during that painful afternoon I happened to glance up at the ceiling. There, in the midst of all the formality and false impressions, was a large tan water mark hovering above our heads. After spotting it, I could not help to return to it again. My eyes were drawn to the mark above as much as I was repelled by the family I was visiting. My interest was captured even more when someone upstairs used the bathroom, and the water began rushing loudly through the pipes above our heads. The water coursed from a full-throated gurgle to a barely audible trickle as I gazed at the stain. I don't know if it was my imagination or an actuality, but the couple themselves seemed to be thrown off a bit by the water rushing above and squirmed in their seats each time the toilet was flushed, further cracking their shellac of formality.

house on the hill
he sits on the antique couch
dirt on sock bottoms

or

the house on a hill
filled with antiques
I don't belong

spring wind in the trees
inside the sound is of voices
I jiggle my foot

or

spring wind in the trees
inside, voices sound
I jiggle my foot

hors d'oeuvres on silver tray
the muffled flush of a toilet
coming from above

or

hours d'oeuvres
placed on a silver tray
muffled flush of the toilet

glide of the kayak
ripples overlapping
water lilies

Peggy Lyles, To Hear the Rain, p.104

This poem recreates for me, a memory that is from my childhood. You see, for about 8 years--from when I was 7 till I was about 15--I would go with my family up to Eagle River, Wisconsin. We would rent a cabin in the woods, right on the lake and just spend a week doing nothing but reading, sleeping, conversing, eating, and fishing. It was great, my mom, dad, brother, grandma and grandpa would all go up there and just enjoy nature at its finest. My dad would wake up at 4 am every morning, get the coffee going, come in and wake me up and we would hit the lake to fish. Then we would come in after 3 or 4 hours and make breakfast for the rest of the family, who was just now, at that point, waking up. We would repeat this pattern for the next 6 days until we had to go back home. It was great. Well, during the afternoon, when I wanted to get away and just be alone to think about life, I would throw on my life vest, get in the kayak and just go out on the lake. I would paddle around aimlessly for hours, just thinking, watching nature, and just living.

Well, this poem really captures my trips out on the lake. But more importantly it captures memories from eight, week-long vacations. It is amazing how three fragmented lines can recreate that many memories, how thinking back on my kayaking on the lake can trigger so many other memories. This is a good poem. With this in mind, I am going to attempt to recreate a few of those memories for you in hopes that you might connect to them the way I connected to this one.

crackling wood
hot fire burns
night sky shines

or

cracking wood burns
hot fire grows
night sky shines

I really like the way this one became much more descriptive with my changes, and really put me in the campground, or backyard. —MK

conversation crescendos
roaring laughter fills the house
family

a wedge
makes the pie half full
knowledge

small deer
gently prancing in a field
tranquility for all

processional
cold wind lifts one corner
of the pall

Lyles, THTR, 94

This haiku makes me sad, but it seems to be taken straight from my memory. Just weeks ago my boyfriend's grandma died. I was close to her so it was sad for me too. My boyfriend was a pall barer, so the first line, processional, all alone like that, makes me think of him.

At the ceremony I wanted to be next to him so we didn't have to go through the ceremony alone, but the processional kept us apart. The 2nd line makes the memory more real because it was very cold the day of the burial. The wind was especially cold and I remember it lifting the corners of our coats as well. But the cold wind seemed very appropriate for our feelings. I felt very cold inside regardless of the temperature.

This haiku easily captures the moment through the senses and the heart. Although it is a sad haiku for me, it's good to remember and I also know that my boyfriend's grandma is happy now with her husband who died just four months earlier.

one last look
before she's gone
funeral

or

funeral
one last look
before she's gone

I felt that moving the location or setting made the picture easier to crate in the reader's head. —MK

sweet smell of flowers
catches in my throat
whispered goodbyes

or

sweet smell of flowers
caught in my throat
whispered goodbyes

I felt that caught simply sounded more grammatically correct and also conveyed more of a sense of how the smell was in her taken in and would not go away. —MK

or

sweet smell of flowers
catches in my throat
unsponken goodbyes

wind and rain
the hand I reach for
in the dark

Peggy Lyles, To Hear the Rain, page 96

I picture a young girl and an older person together. They are on their way home, and suddenly the wind starts blowing and the rain starts falling. Since it is dark, they are reaching for each other, for comfort and direction. As the wind and rain start to pick up, they are starting to feel scared, but they know that they will be ok because they have each other. This haiku gives me a sense of accomplishment in overcoming something.

While reading this haiku, I was brought back to a time where I felt this same sense of overcoming something. When I was younger, I lived on a farm outside of a small town. It was summer, and it was just my babysitter, Tracy, my 9 month-old sister, and myself. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and it seemed to be a perfect day. The sun was shining, and Tracy and I were outside enjoying the day. I remember Tracy commenting that it was becoming very still all of a sudden, but I did not pay attention. I was playing and enjoying this summer day. I didn't have to worry about anything else, so why should I? Soon after Tracy had noticed it was very still, the wind started to pick up and the sky grew very dark. Tracy told me to hurry inside. She was going upstairs to wake my sister, and she wanted me to meet her in the living room by the TV. I didn't really know what was going on, but I really didn't care. All I wanted to do was be outside. After Tracy woke my sister and didn't find me in the living room, she raced outside. By now the sky was pitch black and you were fighting the wind to walk straight. She grabbed my by the hand and headed toward the door. I remember feeling a little scared, but it was more of a lost feeling. I didn't know what was going on, but I trusted Tracy. She was my sense of comfort and direction, and I would do whatever she said.

We made it to the house after a struggle. We picked up my sister and headed for the basement. I remember that I hated going to the basement. It was cold, dark, and musty. But, the worst part was that it was crawling with bugs. I hated spiders and crickets, and I would do anything not to go in the basement. But, I had to do it. Tracy stuck us in the corner and she told us to be brave and stick together. I still had no idea what was going on, but I just did what she said. Within about two minutes all I could hear was crashing, and all I could feel was shaking. During this time, Tracy told me that there was a tornado outside causing this ruckus. She was very calm about it, so in turn, I remained calm. Soon the storm subsided, and we were able to leave the basement. There was ungodly damage done to our yard and the surroundings, but thankfully, no damage done to our house. Reading this haiku gave me the same feelings that I had during my childhood. I felt comfort being in the basement with Tracy. I knew that as long as she was there, we could overcome the storm.

driving to Florida
dividing the car space
family vacations

walking home from school
recalling the long day
Grandma Martin's cookies

or

school bus
passes me
Grandma Martin's cookies

or

school is over
today's memories
cookies and milk

or

cookies and milk
telling Grandma
my day of school

or

home from school
recalling the long day
over Grandma’s cookies

skinned knees
sand in my hair
playing in the park

or

sandy hair
playing in the park
with skinned knees

amber light
creased in a roadmap
a place we've been

Peggy Lyles, THTR, pg. 111

This haiku stirred up memories of both my childhood and of this past summer. When I first read it, I was brought back to this summer. My boyfriend and I took off work and set out one Friday afternoon for Lake Geneva. We barely knew how to get there, had no hotel reservation, and no clue what we were going to do. It was going to be an adventure. We ended up having an awesome time but this poem reminds me of the drive up there.

I can see the amber light on the maps we were trying to decipher. The heat was making me tired and I remember gazing out the window as we drove past little towns, lakes and open fields. We literally ran away for the weekend and when I read this haiku that sense of peace and freedom along with adventure fills up inside of me. It almost makes me sad. I wish I could go back and relive that weekend again and again. The last line, a place we've been makes me feel sadness too. I'm reminded of not only the drive there, but of the drive home. Looking at the maps, trying to find our way back home, back to reality. Our escape was over.

Similar feelings about childhood road trips with my family are also relived through this haiku. When I was young, my family and I use to go to my great uncles house on the lake in Michigan. It was fun, but as a kid, it was a long drive, especially with your two sisters in the backseat with you! I loved going up there and was always sad to leave. Yet on the way home knowing that I could go back to my own house and my own bedroom, a sense of relief usually did pass over me.

steamy car
forehead on the window
watching

or

steamy car
watching
with my forehead on the window

backseat
can't move—
are we there yet?

one tan arm out the window of the passenger seat

cartoons on tv
a sunny spring morn
all lost in mere moments

a dash down the street
to the neighbor's house we ran
safe from the fierce blaze

wrapped in a blanket
protected from the elements
safe from harm's way

a young child
confused and disoriented
what happened to her home?

fried mushrooms
a favorite in the Spring
constant reminder of disaster

Indian summer
a turtle on a turtle
on a rock

Peggy Lyles, THTR, 115

I chose this one to do a longer memory response because of the image it immediately invoked in my head. A few years ago, actually during the summer between my sophomore and junior years, which was the best summer of my life, I went to Minnesota. It was cool there--the days rarely got over 75 for a hi. However, one day, the temperature did reach 90, and as my uncle, cousin, and I were paddling through one of the clear, cool lakes of Northern Minnesota, we saw a group of turtles basking on some rocks and old fallen logs near the shore. Turtles really do climb on top of one another on rocks, and this haiku brought back this memory and all of the memories associated with Minnesota. I caught my first walleye there--it had been on my line for a long time by the time I reeled it in--and it was the first time that I had to confront the reality that I was eating something I had captured. I've never eaten a fish I've caught since.

Another related memory was the joy of picking wild blueberries. Wild blueberries are incredibly tiny, and they are a lighter, more dusky blue that still is bright, instead of the darker blues of domesticated blueberries. There is something earthy, something primal of finding your meal, of gathering that which you will subside on. Granted, we only picked them to make the muffins (and the pancakes).

wild blueberries
skipping with a basket
looking for muffins

or

skipping with a basket
wild blueberries
for perfect muffins

blueberry pancakes
another day
canoeing

A final memory: there is a lovely plant that grows in Minnesota called Labrador Tea. It is a fuzzy-leaved plant that has been used for tea and medicinal purposes, and as I recall, the tea tastes delicious. It grows in rocky outcroppings and in the understory beneath the tall paper birches and aspens of Minnesota. My trip to Minnesota was one of the first where the plants were all new to me, and being an amateur botanist and highly interested in plants, this plant was a favorite of mine. It only grows in climates that are cooler, in soils more acidic, and it will not grow around here very easily.

paper birches
the scribe writes
a prayer

or

paper birches
the scribe writes
a simple prayer

birch bark
he paddles a canoe
in words

No change, I liked this one a lot!! —Liz H

During Christmas time when we constantly have a fire going in our fireplace. The strong draft in Peggy Lyle's haiku, reminds me of the feeling I get when I walk from the upstairs to the downstairs and feel the cool breeze from our sliding glass door being cracked open. As I'm walking down the steps, I feel that cool breeze, but I can also smell the exquisite aroma of the burning fire. I can hear the people talking and laughing while music is playing and the fire is crackling. As I finish down the steps and enter the room, I can see the wood glowing now that it's settled down from the large flaming fire it once was. I then sit down next to the fire and begin to join in the conversation, all while enjoying the contrast of the cool outside breeze and the warm fire.My haiku from the response:

soothing melodies
I see the glow
and nothing else

cousins screaming
I hear nothing
as the logs burn

mother's scarf
slides from my shoulder
wild violets

Peggy Lyles, To Hear the Rain, p. 102

This reminds me of playing dress up with my mother's hats, gloves, and scarfs. I can see a little girl twirling around a sun lit room with her mother's flowered scarf around her shoulder.

This last haiku reminded me of my mother in the back yard with this huge wide-brimmed sun hats.

her big straw hat
arms glisten in the sun
watering the lawn

I would go out with a jar and catch as many fireflies as possible before I had to come in for the night. I'd put the jar next to my bed before I went to sleep. I'd watch then for hours before I'd finally sleep. This really takes be back the process of catching the fireflies in the back yard of my house at sundown. I also started thinking of how my room was arranged years ago and about my “Transformers” pajamas. Childish, I know.

a firefly lit sky
trying to catch the stars
that light a child's curiousity

We used to have a fireplace in our living room. I remember on some cold winter nights, my father would start a fire in the living room and it would seem to last forever. The most prevalent memory is on Christmas Eve, when we always had a fire going while we celebrate the holiday. The entire family would come over and you could just smell the scent of the fire as you walked into the room with the fire. The embers would glow endlessly while we enjoyed the family gathering together. It was always a pleasant feeling to see the fire started and smell the scent of the fire as well.

the big game
pumpkin pie
Thanksgiving day

or

the big game
Thanksgiving day
pumpkin pie

or

grandma's house
on Thanksgiving day
warm pumpkin pie

There was something about this haiku that just did not flow very well, if that makes any sense at all. In fact I found all three of these to seem rather choppy, they just did not work well together. I felt as though they where generalizing rather than focusing in on a specific memory or image. However, I did like them, it is just that I am having a hard time feeling anything towards them because they are not creating any sort of image. My suggestion would be to make it more personal like "grandma's house." —Chrissy H

frigid weather
snowed in
no school

bad wreck
many friends upset
confusing moments