Descriptive Essay: Summer Escape

 My family has always looked forward to leaving Florida during 
the torrid summer months. It is a tremendous relief to get out of 
the heated hustle and bustle of summer living in Florida. Each 
summer, we follow the yellow brick road to our hometown in 
upstate New York. 
As we drive through state after state, it becomes apparent that 
the world around us is changing. In South Carolina, we already 
begin to notice changes. The trees appear to be touchable, 
offering soft, plush leaves which sway in the breeze, and the 
grass actually invites us to share its place rather than scaring us 
away with mounds of intruding fire ants. As each state brings 
new surroundings, our anticipation builds, and home seems closer 
all the time.
Leaving the flatlands and entering an area where we are 
suddenly surrounded by hills of purple and blue are by far the 
most awakening moments. Virginia and Pennsylvania offer 
brilliant scenery with majestic hills and checkerboard 
farmlands. As we descend through the curves and winds of the 
northern region of the United States, home is now very close: we 
are almost there. Suddenly, we have driven from wide-open
flatlands to a narrow, winding road surrounded by hillsides of 
stone and trees. Around every curve, orange and black tiger 
lilies claim their place in the world as they push themselves 
out toward the car, waving hello and flashing their 
mysterious black spots toward us as we drive by.
The journey home is almost complete. As we begin our final 
descent through the state of Pennsylvania into upstate New 
York, the surroundings become comfortably familiar. Before 
long, we are welcomed by a sign that reads “Waverly, 18 miles”
and the familiar fields of grazing cattle. Through the last stretch 
of Pennsylvania, the bursting foliage seems to envelop us and 
carry us over the hills like a carriage created by nature.
It is at this point that our family, even the youngest member, 
knows that our vacation in New York is about to begin. Our 
eldest son has joked for years that he can “smell” Grandma’s 
apple pie already. Approximately fifteen minutes pass and as our 
vehicle takes us over the final crest, we see the smoke stack 
from the local factory as we cross the border of Pennsylvania 
and New York and are aware of our surroundings. A couple of 
turns later, we are there. We have reached our destination; we are 
home.