paragraph on visit to a meadow
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On a crisp autumn afternoon, I sat idly under an enormous oak tree
watching as a whirlwind whisked across the rolling hills of the meadow. As it
passed by me, the whirlwind scooped up a dormant pile of leaves lying next to
the oak tree. The leaves appeared to come alive twisting, turning, and dancing
about the meadow. They were sporting their new fall colors of red, orange,
brown, and yellow. The brittle autumn leaves seemed to be having a party. As
the party moved out of sight, I began to think about the last time I visited the
meadow. The memories of my last visit are vivid with relaxed and peaceful
thoughts motivated by the images, scents, and sounds of the meadow.
The beauty of the meadow in the summer is unequaled. My memories
contained many images of this special place. Snow covered mountains extend high
above the heavens; thus, setting the backdrop to the meadow. Wildflowers
speckled the base of the mountain becoming more abundant near the babbling.
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