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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 …

…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 memories.