My Grandparents’ house looked quiet and serene, surrounded by its own garden. The front door of the house was connected with the gate of the garden by a short stone path which was smooth to step on. There was a set of concrete steps immediately before the front door. Along both sides of the path barrenly grew some weeds, as if a baldhead were showing off his funny crown. The garden was bordered by a circle of low bamboo hedge, wherein was planted some unknown brushwood shading the path, the steps and the bottom of the house if it was fine. I remember that I always spent the whole afternoon enjoying the coziness and happiness there almost at every sunny weekend.
The rusty brass number plate of the house, nailed tightly atop the front door, had lost the function of reminding us of the house number since it had been ruined by the green rust. But the rusty plate and the blurred figures looked quite harmonious with the aged dark wooden floor of the hallway. Stepping on the loose floor boards, I was always inevitably startled by the sudden sounds they made.
The floor of the living room was much lighter in color than that of the hallway. What impressed me most was a couple of old-fashioned padauk chairs, the arms of which had been naturally polished quite a bit, just like the surface of a mirror. They were placed abreast, with a padauk tea table in between, also outmoded. On the wall above hung an impressionist oil painting which was created by Grandpa, facing a much larger one on the opposite wall. I believed that they must be two of the most satisfactory works of my Grandpa. The dining room was on the left hand of the living room. Actually it was just a part of the living room. But for the smoked wall and the oval table in middle, I could hardly view it as a real dining room.
I often wondered --- and still do --- why the kitchen and the bath were designed adjacent to each other. The kitchen always smelled of hot and wild pepper, which reminded me of Sichuan, my Grandma’s hometown. And now Sichuan cuisines have become my favorite food. What I rejected most was to take a shower in the bath, the aged wall and stained bathtub giving me the creeps, although they were not really dirty but were just the result of years. On the left hand of the bath was the wooden stairs to the second floor, each step a bit sunk in through years of stepping.
Grandpa’s study was half occupied by an extremely unwieldy bookshelf, which had once been neat but was later chaotic. I was quite confused how Grandpa could easily find what he and others needed from the shelf. To put it bluntly, the rest space of the study was also in a mess, with paintings and albums stacking, brushes and scrolls crossing, and floor and walls randomly colored. When dealing with the mess, the housekeeper usually could not help complaining. And Grandpa always smiled and explained that it was just the efficiency for artistic creation. Despite the mess there, the treasures, as Grandpa called, on the shelf, also developed my interest in ancient Chinese literature.
It was quite a job for me to distinguish Grandpa’s bedroom from his study, the bed being the only remark. The two nightstands on the both sides of the bed had worked as two simple equipped bookshelves for quite a few years. When struck by the spirit, Grandpa usually could not wait to move to the study but began his work just in the bedroom. No wonder the two rooms resembled each other so much.
The only clear memory of my Grandma’s bedroom was a slightly musty and twist-cornered picture of Buddha hung on the south-facing wall and a gold-plating sculpture of Buddha placed on the middle of the chest of drawers. Drinking, smoking, or even making noise there were big taboos and were permanently forbidden, since they were symbols of disrespect towards Buddha. The devout Grandma always warned that we were bound to be punished if we disturbed or violated the sacred Buddha.
My Grandparents’ house is somewhere nostalgic, valuable, and touching, with the memories of years. It also provides a literary and artistic atmosphere for almost every child and grandchild. The shaded garden path, the rusty brass number plate, the smooth chair arms, the fantastic oil paintings, the stout bookshelf, and the aged Buddha picture, … all these compose an enthralling scene which is perpetually valued in my deep memory.
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Wow, such a description makes me shiver.
What do you mean, maj? I want to improve my writing skill, and this is one of my assignments of writing course. Your advices will be welcomed and appreciated.
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I think it is an excellent piece of writing. It is just that it makes us feel as if we had been to the house. I am sure most people will agree.
Thank you so much, maj! Your words are really kind and encouraging.
Your welcome.Emotion: smile
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excellent grace
you've done it very well indeed..
i feel like i want to describe my grandpa's house too..
i can do it Emotion: stick out tongue
Thank you, Julie. And I believe you can make it.
Beautifully written. Was he a painter? A couple of mistakes should you want them pointed out.
You really have an excellent command of the English language. Recently read a book on China which mentions the two beauties.
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