Descriptive writing

I arrive at the field 1 hour early. I see the early morning sunrise peeking through tower like trees, and the frost layered thickly on the ground like jam on toast. I am numb due to the frost but the rise of the sun is compensating just a bit to keep me from freezing. I hear the frost crackling as it is busily settling on the ground and starting its short life before it melts away. I am trying to take in what it smells like but the cold air does not let me breathe.  I find myself spending my whole pre-game warm up blowing on my fingers in hope that they alone will warm up.

The whistle blows signalling the captain's toss. I rush over, tails it is.

Once the game gets underway I forget the frost’s bitter grasp on my body.

After the game the frost has disappeared and the sun has taken control of the day.

Just another average day in the week.