Show, Don’t Tell Practice Write

I hike nearly a mile down Northshore Lane until the tar-and-chip road dwindles down to a narrow dirt trail at an impassable dead end that cuts through the forest. Only locals and conservation officers know what exists beyond that point. I make my way through the bushy entrance and venture into the verdant wilderness of lush foliage in shades of nut brown and green flourishing in full bloom. I saunter down the winding path around the thick trunks of ancient trees that occupy this natural environment, proceeding with care as I traverse over their massive roots before me to avoid tumbling headfirst onto the mud-caked earth. Dead leaves crunch and twigs snap beneath my sneakers with each step I take. The rich scent of pine and wildflowers mingles through the fresh country air. All around me, I can hear the sounds of wildlife chirping and croaking echo

reverberating into the distance. I round the final curve of the trail, then head towards the light where a small opening overlooks a tranquil lake that's surrounded by a shoreline of nothing but tress. I get a breathtaking view of the sky ablaze in a vivid array of oranges. The dying sun is only minutes away from descending below the horizon, still glistening off the water, adding to the mesmerizing beauty that's left to offer. I pull gaze out at the horizon until I there's nothing left to see and the twilight takes over. As much as I'd love to stick around and immerse myself into nature, I know that every last bit of daylight is crumbling and I'm left with no vision to see my way out of these game lands. Another splendid day has run its course as nightfall sets in. Another splendid day has run its course.