Creative the backdrop to the meadow. Wildflowers speckled

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Creative Writing: The Meadow
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
brook. The brook ran through the middle of the meadow turning, and twisting
around the enormous oak tree. The lush green grass grew around the tree like
hair on a dog’s back. Birds flew through the radiant blue sky diving for
insects. My thoughts reflect relaxation as my mind focuses on the pleasing

The sounds of the meadow complement the beautiful imagery, and create a
sense of inner peace and harmony. The soothing sounds drifted across the meadow
like an orchestra playing at Carnegie Hall. The buzzing of the bees feeding on
pollen made up the chorus. A woodpecker kept a steady beat as he drilled a hole
in the oak tree. Birds whistling, and peeping formed the brass section like
trumpets playing an excerpt from the 1812 Overture. All these sounds, and many
more blended together to create a relaxing melody soothing to the ear.

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The scents that fill a place are often strong components of memories.

The scent of the meadow established lasting images in my mind. A breeze that
wafted across the meadow was full of many different scents. The yellow
wildflowers smelled like a rich box of dark chocolate fudge: that was presented
as a gift on Christmas Day. The green grass was an odoriferous carpet smelling
mostly of mildew. Perhaps, the most pleasant scent associated with the meadow
was that of an approaching storm. I often found solace in the rhythmic noise of
the raindrops, and the wonderful smell of life giving rain. It was as if the
smells of the meadow were tangible objects seen, felt, and touched.

A chill came over me as crisp breeze whisked over the meadow. The sun
had passed behind the snow covered mountains. Small white flakes had started
to come down as I sat under the leafless oak tree. I got up to look around the
meadow; now completely covered with a white blanket. It seems that I missed
remarkable visit while reminiscing about the past. The imagery, sounds, and
scents of the meadow were powerful constituents of my relaxing and therapeutic

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