Sleeper Descriptive Writing

The monotonous sound of the saw echoes through the crisp morning air. The sweet scent of soil, combined with sawdust, overwhelms me. I breathe out, igniting the sawdust into dance. The macrocarpa sleeper lays up on its side, now missing a limb. A blur of brown and green clouds my field of vision only halted by the freshly cut sleeper. The sound of the drill now has taken over from the saw, wounding the sleeper further. I look up into the grey, misty clouds for a moment, their grey faces furious, only to turn back to my task of completing the raised garden.
Plop. A droplet of water lands on my neck, slithering down, leaving me shivering. I move my now earthy hand to swipe the cold away, only to further my predicament as I spread dirt onto my neck. I look back up into the sky, seeing the grey suddenly become more menacing, with the droplets becoming more frequent. Becoming clear to me is the hopelessness of the task, as the wooden cage …show more content…
My armor had done little to protect me from the cold trickle which quickly rendered me into a shiver. A picturesque landscape surrounded me, with the distant blur of green and yellow reflected in the lake. As I bobbed up and down, the water rippled around me, distorting the colours. The distant yellow crowd of tussocks seemed to throw their hands up in a Mexican wave as a wisp of wind sailed through onto the hills.
Clunk. The engine shifted into gear. The engine had begun to growl. My fingers curled around the handle. I gripped it tightly, preparing for the sudden jolt of the boat pulling me. I breathed in deeply through my nose, sucking in the fresh morning air. The sun was the only thing in the blue sky, its fingers clawing at the lake. My arms shuddered as the rope caught tension, and I leant back as a slipstream of cold water ran past me, making a quick escape. I gave the driver a nod, letting him know I was ready, contradicting how I was feeling. It was too cold. I was not