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 la