College Essay (Application Essay)
Steven Spigler
AP Language
Mrs. Matheny
09/30/201
College Essay Cold November mornings are racing through my thoughts as I transition from summer to fall, and slowly they begin to consume every action, thought, and habit as they near. The slight breeze in my face, the rustling of the leaves as they begin falling, the movement of squirrels on the ground floor, looking for their lost and forgotten nuts they buried. This place is tradition; this place is my heritage, a rite of passage for me. This place is where I leave all stress behind at the gate, and can find serenity for a couple of hours. This place is my connection to family, a commonplace for us to relate. The place that I find to connect me to family, find serenity, and that belongs to me is the mountain. It’s what I do in that special place that defines me. The mountain is my special place, and hunting is my passion. The tradition of hunting runs deep in my veins, and I can picture the cold and windy November mornings all too clear. The mountain during its fall transition is vibrant, with its rich and radiant reds and yellows. The feeling of pursuing any animal is irreplaceable. More often than not, coming back empty handed is common, but the memories made in the treestand are valuable, and something as a hunter you don’t forget. The anticipation for those November mornings is what I prepare for all year. After spending countless hours preparing stands, monitoring cameras to get the latest on the deer movement, and practicing my bow, all is just a part of the preparation. All of this preparation is for a couple of hours spent twenty feet above ground, hoping for a successful hunt. The hunt allows me to rewind from the past school week, but serves as one of the best places to just sit and think. The overwhelming tranquility of the woods during early morning in November is something only a hunter would know. The mountain also serves a milestone in any hunter’s life. It’s the spot of my first deer kill,
AP Language
Mrs. Matheny
09/30/201
College Essay Cold November mornings are racing through my thoughts as I transition from summer to fall, and slowly they begin to consume every action, thought, and habit as they near. The slight breeze in my face, the rustling of the leaves as they begin falling, the movement of squirrels on the ground floor, looking for their lost and forgotten nuts they buried. This place is tradition; this place is my heritage, a rite of passage for me. This place is where I leave all stress behind at the gate, and can find serenity for a couple of hours. This place is my connection to family, a commonplace for us to relate. The place that I find to connect me to family, find serenity, and that belongs to me is the mountain. It’s what I do in that special place that defines me. The mountain is my special place, and hunting is my passion. The tradition of hunting runs deep in my veins, and I can picture the cold and windy November mornings all too clear. The mountain during its fall transition is vibrant, with its rich and radiant reds and yellows. The feeling of pursuing any animal is irreplaceable. More often than not, coming back empty handed is common, but the memories made in the treestand are valuable, and something as a hunter you don’t forget. The anticipation for those November mornings is what I prepare for all year. After spending countless hours preparing stands, monitoring cameras to get the latest on the deer movement, and practicing my bow, all is just a part of the preparation. All of this preparation is for a couple of hours spent twenty feet above ground, hoping for a successful hunt. The hunt allows me to rewind from the past school week, but serves as one of the best places to just sit and think. The overwhelming tranquility of the woods during early morning in November is something only a hunter would know. The mountain also serves a milestone in any hunter’s life. It’s the spot of my first deer kill,