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Best Descriptive Writing Sites Describing the beauty of nature

Best descriptive sentences: rivers, mountains, beaches, waterfalls, forests, lakes and the 4 seasons. 24 comments

Best descriptive sentences:

rivers, mountains, beaches, waterfalls, forests, lakes, spring, summer, autumn and winter.

This is a collection of sentences from the first 10 chapters of ‘Writing with Stardust’, the ultimate descriptive guide for students, teachers and writers. It contains 3 levels of ability, from the beginner to the more advanced. The book itself contains 5 levels of ability.

I hope you enjoy the post and that it benefits you in some way. You can get more information on my books by clicking on any of the book images at the end of this post. It will take you to the Amazon website where you can discover more about ‘Writing with Stardust’ for yourself.



1. I saw a jewel-blue stream in the forest. COLOUR

2. It was splashing as it moved through the trees. SOUND

3. It curved gently through the forest. SHAPE

4. It hopped over the rocks happily. ACTION

5. My friend told me that rivers are the roads of the forest. METAPHOR

6. This one was flickering like glitter on the surface. SIMILE

7. I could see a family of ducks paddling on the water. OTHER IMAGES

8. I took a drink. It was very refreshing. SENSATION

9. The aroma of the forest was great. SMELL

10. It drew me to a berry bush. I ate one and it tasted rich. TASTE


I spied a gem-blue stream in the forest. It was seeping and dribbling as it swerved through the trees. It jumped for joy over the timeworn rocks. I heard once that rivers are the arteries of the forest. This one was sparkling like tinsel. The fluttering butterflies drifted over it lazily. I bent my head down to drink from it. It was very stimulating. The aroma of the forest was very powerful. I plucked a few berries and they were lush and fruity to the tongue.


A turquoise-blue stream wound its merry way through the forest. Babbling and burbling, it sprung over the limestone rocks in its way. Pebbles whisked about in the under wash like pieces of glitter. Streams are the liquid soul of the forest, and this one was glowing. Chords of soft light speared down from above, bathing its surface in gold. It was glinting with little sparkles, like a thousand diamonds blessed with an inner fire. A galaxy of dragonflies fizzed through the beams of light, wings a-glitter in the sun. The hedgerows were pregnant with berries and we tasted some. They energized us with their pleasant waft. The delicious taste stayed with us all the way home.



1. The mountains were bone-white. COLOUR

2. A wall of snow came crashing down. SOUND

3. The mountains were crinkled at the top. SHAPE

4. They were sky-piercing. ACTION

5. The foot of one mountain was covered in mist. PATHETIC FALLACY

6. The mountain peaks were like a row of arrow tips. SIMILE

7. We could see some deer clattering across a mountain. OTHER IMAGES

8. The air felt ice cold. SENSATION

9. We could smell stewed mutton coming from a camp. SMELL

10. We tasted some and it was astral. TASTE


The mountains were vampire-white. A wave of white snow went rumbling down the sides. They were all crumpled at the base. They were sky-stabbing at the top. The legs of the mountains were very wide. The peaks of the mountains were like harpoon tips. They were shrouded in ghost-grey mist. The air was chilling and numbing. We could smell a pot roast being cooked. We tasted some and it was stellar.


The serrated mountains loomed in the distance. We made our way towards them as we had to make base camp by nightfall. They were flour-white and brooded over the land. Just as we approached, a chute of snow detached itself and went trundling down one of the mountains. It slid over the knotted edge and then went crashing into the chasm below. The silence that followed was spine chilling. It froze our marrow to think that we would be climbing in those conditions tomorrow.

The heaven-touching apex of the mountain was drenched in brilliant light. Spikes of thin light impaled the snow in a bristling, moving line. We assumed that the heat had displaced the snow from the hip of the time chiselled mountain. All across our line of sight, the tips of the mountain range stuck up like a row of thorns. Swaddled around them were necklaces of powdery snow. The air became arctic cold as we came closer to base camp. The unmistakable whiff of chargrilled lamb wafted to our noses. Dinner that night was cosmic.



1. The beach was flax-gold. COLOUR

2. We heard the snoozy sea lap gently. SOUND

3. We walked on a bow of beach. SHAPE

4. Cylinders of light moved across the sea. METAPHORS

5. The other tourists were leather-brown. TANS

6. The neon-blue sky was threaded with silver. KNITTING TERMS FOR THE SKY

7. Children were squealing on the beach. OTHER IMAGES

8. The sun toasted our skin. SENSATION

9. The sea air smelled of chlorine. SMELL

10. The spicy sauces in the burger burned our tongues. TASTE


The beach we walked on was moon glow-gold. The sea looked dozy as it rested in the afternoon glow. We were walking on a horseshoe of beach. Towers of radiant light soaked the sea with their beauty. The holiday makers we saw all had coconut-brown faces. Clown-hatted donkeys were braying loudly as children pulled their tails. The burning sun roasted us like nuts in an oven. The sea sky seemed threaded with silver. A warm, tangy odour came from the sea as we walked towards a hot dog stand. The sulfurous mustard burned us nearly as much as the sun.


It’s not often you get to see a sunrise-gold beach. That was our privilege as we gazed out at the slothful sea. Ebbing ever so gently, it looked at peace in its jade-green gown. It felt like we were walking on a carpet of candy floss, such was its softness. The golden sand swept around in a scythe of beach, hemmed in by towering dunes. Far out to sea, rivers of pulsing light saturated the sea with gold. Only the occasional tourist walked past us. There was an absence of sun-blasted bodies in this Babylon of beaches.

The horizon seemed to be stitched with a silver line. The seagulls were squawking over our heads and squabbling for morsels from the hotel kitchen. As the sun scorched our bodies to a crisp, a funfair of barbecued aromas drifted towards us. The saline tang of the sea mingled with the cuisine, adding salt to its appeal. We decided to obey our rumbling stomachs and eat. Lobster on a bed of watercress was our fare that afternoon. It tasted tender and briny and the shell food sauce had a hint of bouquet to it.



1. The waterfall was aquarium-blue. COLOUR

2. It was drizzling onto the rocks. SOFT SOUNDS

3. The larger waterfall was pounding the rocks. LOUD SOUNDS

4. It tumbled down the mountain. ACTION

5. The bliss-pool at the bottom was varnish clear. A DIVINITY-POOL

6. It looked like a wall of blue satin threaded with silver. TEXTURE

7. The flowers next to it were nodding gently. OTHER IMAGES

8. It was freezing and we were shaking with the cold. SENSATION

9. The flowers growing nearby had a honey sweet smell. SMELL

10. We ate an ice cream cone on the bank and it was divine. TASTE


The waterfall was Atlantis-blue. It was gushing over the rocks. At its widest point, it was surging and plunging down the mountain. It had a beautiful serenity-pool at the bottom. It was veneer clear. The waterfall flowed as smoothly as syrup. The frogs croaking nearby added to the wonderful sounds. We threw ourselves under the waterfall. It was so cold that we started shuddering. We collapsed on the bank and let the nougat sweet smell of flowers wash over us. Later we had some ham sandwiches and they were Godly.


The waterfall was Mediterranean-blue and magical. It was swishing over the rocks joyfully. It was thundering down into the pool like a gigantic water spout. When it toppled into the ecstasy-pool, it foamed it at the bottom. The rest of the pool was as clear as cellophane, enabling us to see down into the rocky bottom. Fronds of forest-green plants waved gently in the depths. The waterfall looked like a sheet of blue velour as it swished down. Its edges were hemmed with whipped-white lines.

We could see a gaggle of geese grazing by the bank and the scene was picture perfect. A group of Amazonian ferns, edged with saw’s teeth and statue still, added a tropical flavour. We stood under the waterfall to cool down, but it was catacomb cold. It gave us goose bumps immediately. We ended up quivering and shivering on the bank. The nectar sweet smell of the spring flowers perked up our spirits. We had a cup of chocolate and it was Godlike after our moment of madness.



    1. The forest was nut-brown. COLOUR
    2. The twigs were crunching under my feet. SOUND
    3. The trees were the towers of the forest.METAPHOR
    4. I heard a wildcat slinking away. ANIMAL SOUNDS
    5. The morning stars shone like silver petals. THE STARS
    6. Nuts were scattered on the floor of the forest. FOREST EDIBLES
    7. We took the leaf-carpeted path home. OTHER IMAGES
    8. The beauty of the forest comforted our hearts. SENSATION
    9. The smell of the forest was pulpy. SMELL
    10. We picked some berries and they tasted orchard sweet. TASTE


    The forest was tannin-brown. The grass was crispy under our feet. We looked up and the trees were skyscraper tall. Hares were scampering away from us up ahead. The morning stars were shining like silver snowflakes. Wood sorrel flecked the blanket of grass. We walked in and out of shady glades. The peace of the morning was soul soothing. The forest’s smell was fresh and organic. We picked some wild pears and they were meadow sweet.


    The forest we entered was oak-brown and primitive. The grasses we stepped on were crackly beneath our feet because of the recent dry spell. We were in awe of the size and majesty of the trees. Their knotted arms rose ever upwards, as far as my head could lift. They were hoary fortresses and stood proudly. The orchestra of birdsong we could hear from them suddenly stopped. A pair of jays was screeching high up in the canopy of the trees. Jays are the scavengers of the bird world. Their cruel, corvid eyes are always on the lookout for a feathered meal. In the winter, they raid squirrel stores for their nuts, often damning them to starvation. They drifted across our vision in a flash of flesh-pink and warlock-black, trying to size us up. That was the last we saw of them, as they are a furtive bird, full of suspicion.

    The morning stars peeped down at us like silver asters, glinting and shimmering. They looked happy in their solar-silver isolation. We could see wild basil growing freely on the clumpy, mossy mattress of the floor. The simpering wind carried a fragrance with it. It was spirit refreshing to smell the mulchy mix of the forest’s perfume. We ate a few windfall apples and they were mead sweet with a bitter twist. It was only after we got the stomach cramps that we regretted it.



    1. The lake was skyline-silver. COLOUR

    2. It lay in the middle of a cave quiet valley. THE QUIET VALLEY

    3. It was window clear. THE CLEAR LAKE

    4. It was peaceful and statue still. THE STILL LAKE

    5. Trout were dive bombing in the lake. SOUND

    6. A mob of flies rose into the air. THE FLY ARMY

    7. I had a ‘zap’ moment because it was so beautiful. A MOMENT OF CLARITY

    8. The itching grass snapped me out of it. SENSATIONS OF PAIN

    9. A sap sweet smell hung in the air. SMELL

    10. The water I drank was sharp but pleasant. TASTE


    The lake was as silver as diamond flame and the atmosphere was convent quiet. Even the depths were vodka clear. It was soothing and yogi still. Freckled trout were leaping for flies and thunking on its surface. The rising sun caused a division of armed flies to swarm into the air. The scene was so glorious that I had a lightning bolt moment. The thistles pricking my leg broke my train of thought. The damp grass smelled utopian. I took a sip of water from a stream. It tasted like a sweet medicine, a potion for the spirit.


    The lake appeared as if by magic as we crested the ridge. It was in teardrop-silver in colour and it was shaped like a perfectly flat disc of metal. No sound rang out from the shimmering emptiness of space around it. Monastery quiet, it was lined with pine trees and the whiff of mint wafted up to us. We decided to make our way to its decanter clear shore. The idyllic scene took our breath away. Unruffled by wind or rain, it was vault still and restful. The only sounds were the bumbling of bees and the heavy echo of a raven crawking.

    Out on the lake, flopping trout were slapping the surface. They were hoping to catch one of the squadron of flies that buzzed about. The heaven-leaking light added a golden tint to the face of the lake and it was paradise. A startling eureka moment came unbidden, which involved the beauty of the natural world. I kept it to myself. The nipping midges didn’t take away from the pleasure of that day. I can still see the rain-pearled grass in my mind’s eye. I remember the saccharine sweet smell of that grass. I remember that the water tasted like the nectar of the gods. Most of all, I remember how it felt to be young on that special day.



    1. The fields were parsley-green. COLOUR

    2. Lonely calves were lowing in the fields. SOUND

    3. The moon was like a ghostly-silver disc in the sky. SIMILES FOR THE MOON

    4. A carnival of scents blew in the air. THE MOVEMENT OF SCENTS

    5. A host of daisies scattered the meadow. SPRING FLOWERS

    6. Strands of thin light came from the sky. METAPHORS FOR LIGHT

    7. The milk-splashed calves brayed for company. OTHER IMAGES

    8. The scene was spirit-lifting. SENSATION

    9. There was a cream fresh smell. SMELL

    10. The spring foods had a candy floss sweet taste. TASTE


    The fields were glade-green. The sound of chirping chicks filled the air. The moon was like a phantom-silver orb. A pageant of smells floated in the spring air and a horde of dandelions littered the meadow. Staffs of slim light spilled from the sky. Proud-breasted pigeons strutted across the meadow. The scene was spirit-refreshing and pastoral. The meadow smelled pear fresh. There was a blossom sweet taste to the food we ate.


    The malachite-green fields seemed to be covered in a bright sheen under the dawn moon. We could hear yipping fox cubs breaking the quiet of the world. Clouds shaped like tufty pillows glided slowly across the sky. They carried an airy, warm, drizzling rain with them. It cleansed the land and banished the strangling coldness and stunned silence of winter. Plinking and pattering off the leaves, then fading into memory, the rain energized the flora. It left behind a world baptized and rebirthed by its liquid grace. Song thrushes trilled as the spectre-silver moon began to wane and the fog of flowers in the meadow slowly revealed itself. We could smell their aromas hovering in the air.

    Versace-purple crocuses seemed to glow before our eyes. Jewel-green grasshoppers bounced atop the grass like leggy trampolines. In the stony verges, Rafael-red valerian sprouted from between coral-black cracks. Spears of dawn light suddenly drenched the farthest corners with their golden magic. A pair of misty-eyed cubs yelped as they saw us and darted to safety. A murmuration of starlings wheeled and banked overhead like wind-tossed gunpowder. The rustic scene was spirit-renewing and we let the menu of melon fresh scents wash over us. We ate our hamper of food under the leafy umbrella of a great oak and it tasted molasses sweet.



    1. The night sky was heather-purple. COLOUR

    2. Humming bees darted through the air. BEE MUSIC

    3. The stars were glittering like scattered space dust. METAPHORS FOR THE SUN

    4. The beaked chorus of birds filled the air. THE DAWN CHORUS

    5. The edible ceps looked like shiny penny buns. EDIBLE FOODS

    6. Clouds were latched to the unending sky. THE SWEEP OF SKY

    7. The afternoon sky was cocktail-blue. THE BRIGHTEST BLUES

    8. The grass was downy soft. SENSATION

    9. A stew of smells filled the air. SMELL

    10. The summer food was gelatin sweet. TASTE


    The night sky was juniper-purple. The sound of intoning bees filled the air. The stars were glowing like beacons for the lost souls of the world. A feathered medley echoed through the trees. The garlic smell of ramsons drifted through the air. The clouds were bracketed to the eternal, summer sky. It was like a dome of solar blue. The grass was silk soft. A broth of smells swirled around me. The food we ate was honeysuckle sweet.


    An amethyst-purple tint invades the late summer skies. The world is changing and autumn is approaching. Soon the land will be a-fire in the warm glow of tree-flame. Pagan rituals such as Hallowe’en will bring back long dead memories of trolls, spooks and hobgoblins.

    For now, however, the fields are still Elysium-green. Bees are still murmuring in that strange cult hum exclusive to them. They flit from flower to flower, surfing the short spaces as they go. The stars are summer stars, flickering like pulsing lodestars. A sol-fa of song erupts as they fade away, the ancient alchemy of the dawn chorus.

    Bilberries and chanterelles adorn the forest floor, questing for sunlight. The perpetual skies of summer are buckled with clouds and they flare up in a luminous, neon-blue when the mood takes them. Summer is nature’s treasure trove. The fields are laden with goldenrod-yellow flowers and silver-washed fritillaries carry their bushels of pollen carefully. A goulash of scents twirls above the satin soft petals and the pear sweet taste of the air is a blessed joy.

    But summer brings with it a bitter twist. The nights are closing in on each other and the long days are faltering. Enjoy the beaches, the barbecues and the birds. In a few short months, all will be cold.



    1. The ember-red leaves of autumn burn slowly. COLOUR

    2. The huffing wind was too lazy to scatter the leaves. UNUSUAL WIND VERBS

    3. Clouds form like puffy plates. METAPHORS FOR THE CLOUDS

    4. The leaves are a-flame in a quilt of colour. ARCHAIC WORDS FOR AUTUMN

    5. We enjoy chomping on blackcurrants. AN AUTUMN FEAST

    6. The fiery-reds cast a rich hue on the forest. COLOURS USING HEAT

    7. The ghost-grey skies of autumn change the mood. OTHER IMAGES FOR AUTUMN

    8. Autumn is a time to be afraid. SENSATION

    9. A larder of aromas drizzled from the trees. SMELL

    10. The wild berries had a savoury taste. TASTE


    The leaves were molten-red. The yawning wind made them shiver slightly. Fluffy fleeces of cloud passed over the forest. The trees were a-flicker like night lights. A group of children were gulping on wild gooseberries. The blazing-brown dome of leaves gave off a nice glow. Owls haunted and hunted through moon-splashed trees. We were spooked by their swivelling heads and lamp round eyes. A perfumery of scents hazed through the forest. The ravishing taste of freshly baked bread stayed in our memories.


    The barbecue-red leaves hang silently on the trees. Muffling winds deaden all sound in the forest and slow the billowy bells of cloud. The oak leaves are still a-light, but barely. Dainty noses, sniffling and snuffling, glow the same mercury-red as the trees. They replace the sound of children slobbering over elderberries.

    Fog-tinted fairy trees stand alone in fields, noosed by coils of dragon breath. A weak pitter-patter is heard, but it is not the sound of children’s feet. It is the centuries-old, hissing drip of raindrops in caves. Spiders flood the forest, clutching their snare strings tightly, their eyes a-glitter with hatred. Owl-light replaces daylight as autumn comes to a close. The seething energy of the forest becomes vow-silent as promises to nature are kept. The burnt-red leaves turn a smouldering-gold as the first of the heavy rains fall.

    The rain drenches everyone. They are not the soft, sodden, swollen raindrops of summer. They are not the light, aerated mizzling of spring showers. They are plump, pregnant with moisture, ploppy and destructive. The long, straight streaks of cloud we call mare’s tails do not carry them. The skies are damnation-black and churning with anger. There is a cataclysm coming. It is time for daunting winter to display his wares.The hotchpotch of aromas that graced the air is gone. The delectable, marchpane taste of the autumn harvest has faded from the palate. When the first snowfall comes, the world will be mummified in a powdery silence. It is time to be afraid again.



    1. The snow was whalebone-white. SNOW COLOUR

    2. The battering gusts were awful. SOUND

    3. The screeching winds were dreadful. STORMS

    4. A gentle hush cloaked the land. SILENCE

    5. The gravel-grey skies were bare. SKY COLOUR

    6. The empty skies were silent. BARREN SKIES

    7. Winter squeezes everything to death. CHOKING WINTER

    8. Peppery scents filled the room. SMELL

    9. Our quivering bodies were cold. SENSATION

    10. The seasoned vegetables were delicious. TASTE


    The snow was polar-white. The flogging squalls of winter blew loudly. Screeching winds occasionally rose up. When they died, a tomb-like silence haunted the land. Flint-grey skies oversaw the land. The bleak skies were depressing. Winter smothered the land with its vice-like grip. Malt liqueurs, taken to warm up chilled bodies, were a poor substitute for the sun. Sore joints creaked and groaned like rusty hinges. The scent of creamy, mushroom volau-vents floating through the house cheered us up.


    The snow was zombie-white. Winter’s lacerating hurricanes and whining winds had come and gone, leaving a terrible calmness. The skies above were an unholy mixture of shale-grey clouds and pasty streaks. Callous winter was stifling the world with its icy breath.

    I could see a group of kidults playing on a frozen pond. They stamped their frozen feet and thumped their chilly bodies to warm up. Their ears caught fire and turned an icy-blue where their scarves couldn’t reach. Nose-icicles dripped from their frozen faces. Their wheezy, wind-filled lungs were belching out steam as they itched and scratched at their raw skin. They started skating. They slipped, slid and slithered on the polished ice. Hissing and swishing with their skates, they swooped and whooped across the ice. Then they screamed as the ice broke. It must have felt like lances of fire lighting up their skin as they fell in to the perishing cold water.

    Their teeth were chattering when they crawled back out. They followed the oaken oven smells home to warm up. I hoped that the yeasty beer would warm their hearts as their bodies were frozen.

    Click on any of the book images below to find out more about ‘Writing with Stardust’ or any of Liam’s other books.

    Writing Tips for How to Write Scenery in Novels

    In many novels, the scenery and setting work as a character and provide an important context and understanding of the novel’s purpose and meaning. Even if the setting isn’t of prime importance for your novel, it is important to make sure that your writing gives the reader a clear and evocative sense of the scenery and location in which your novel takes place to better create a believable and engaging fictional world.

    Describe a Particular Place

    When writing a novel, make sure that your scenery is specific to the place in which you have set your story. The reader should be able to see the setting in a particular place from your details, not just general descriptions of trees, mountains and lakes. Try to use aspects of a specific landscape, such as tree types, specific bodies of water and levels of elevation that evoke a particular location. Even if your location is imagined, you should still have a clear idea of its climate, foliage and general appearance.

    Use the Senses

    When you describe scenery, be sure to use all five senses to fully convey the setting. Most writers focus on the visuals of a scene, which is central to conveying scenery properly, but remember that there are also sound-related images, tactile images, images related to smell and those related to taste. For example, by bringing in sound, you can set the scene by describing if birds are chirping, trees are creaking in the wind or dust is blowing against a car window. Make use of all of the senses to create a vivid scene.

    Be Relevant

    Use your descriptions of scenery as a way to enhance your plot, not detract from it. For example, a long description of the view from a window is relevant only if the scene happening between the characters can somehow relate to it, or if you can use it to convey mood or emotion. Use the scenery, and the aspects of the scenery you choose to focus on, as a way to move forward and enrich the plot. Your scenery description should be relevant to the action at hand and the human drama at the center of the novel.

    Work Throughout the Story

    Instead of putting your scenery in large chunks in just a few places, work the scenery throughout the novel, particularly in places where the scenery can contribute to your overall goal in the story. Integrate your descriptions of scenery in subtle moments throughout the novel and discuss scenery in large chunks of exposition only if the plot of the story calls for it.

    • Bedford Saint Martins; virtualLit; Elements of Fiction; Definition of Setting
    • Absolute Write; The 3 Most Important Elements of Fiction Writing; Magdalena Ball

    Ann Trent has been publishing her writing since 2001. Her work has appeared in “Fence,” the “Black Warrior Review” and the “Denver Quarterly.” Trent received a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing from Ohio State University and has attended the Macdowell Colony. She is currently pursuing a Master of Arts in counseling.

    landscape – quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

    The reflective greens of the landscape glowed brighter in the strengthening light.

    The landscape was a marriage of rainbow hues congregated in the greens.

    The landscape rose to meet the rising sun as a proud child shows a parent their accomplishment.

    A verdant landscape rose as if taking in mighty breaths of country-pure air.

    The barn blossomed on the hill amid the grass and the meadow flowers, as if one day it sprung up from some precious seed. I guess what I’m saying is, it belonged there, and if it were absent the picture of that landscape would be missing something very special. So though the timbers were aged and the light that streamed in from the holey roof illuminated the dust like ethereal confetti – it was truly a great place, I loved it.

    Rock arose from the ground as if it reached for the sky – the peaks of the Alps sculpted by the raindrops of eons. They were green at their base, the forests gathered by nature’s wand. Then there were the roads that climbed the Alps, wending this way and that, making tight turns that felt for all the world as a fair ground ride.

    The landscape sings her lullaby in sweet nostalgic hues.

    The landscape sang to the sunlit cloud that it was in eager anticipation of much rain.