<beautiful flowers littered the ground and trees shaded the area. One specific tree loomed over all else: the willow. Butterflies danced in the air and a stream gurgled nearby and in the stream playful fish jumped and the wind blew leafs everywhere> *running freely and jumping in the air: stopping to look at things along the way* {It sure is beautiful today. The sun is shining and its the perfect temperature!}
What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though. — J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
