Winter Writing

This week we have been focussing on writing vivid, interesting descriptions. We are trying really hard to show not tell the reader. We have been using our five senses to help us form ideas. Check out some of the pieces below. They really paint a picture in our mind with words.


"The morning coldness of fog crept through the tight gap in the fogged up window. I step outside and see valleys of pure white. The crisp, fluffy snow crunches under my numb feet. The puddles of glistening ice crackles as I lay a foot on it. The very shallow puddles are violently slippery. The cool airy feeling is swirling around me. It's too cold to be hanging out in the soft powder. I step back inside and the smokey, blazing fire is cracking away. As I take a sip of my boiling hot chocolate my throat feels like needles are stabbing me."
By Zak

"A powdery white blanket surrouds me. Snowflakes are falling on every tree in town. Every step I take I hear a crunch like someone crunching a hard lolly. My toes go numb each time my teeth chatter. Sad trees drooping with all the sparkly snow flakes that it can carry. Snowmen are everywhere. People throw snowballs at each other."
By Ella

"Snowflakes were drifting down on the white glistening street as I step outside onto the blanket of fluffy snow. Crunch, crunch, crunch under my boots. The snow-ice crushes under me. I breath in cold air, a shiver runs down my spine. Naked trees are reaching over me as I walk on the dark, gloomy street. I walk home to have a hot chocolate with marshmallows and sit next to a crackling fire."
By Kate

"The cold, blizzardy snow glitters like crystals being formed in a crystal cave. The icy air fills my body with happiness. The cold powder flies around like fairies jumping with joy. Everyday I see the soft, fluffy snow waiting for me. The sullen wind is leaving. I go home to sit by the fire."
By Kit

"The bitter feeling is dreadful as I hurdle down the mountain. My cheeks are as red as roses and the powder is waist high. A powdery, glittery snow day with deep footprints. Skiiers whizz down slopes as fast as rockets. As my hand digs into the powder it feels like needles stabbing into my hand."
By Jack