There are many excellent works for the 16th Ye Shengtao Cup New Composition Competition. Here are 11 selected articles, each of which can be a sample essay for full-scoring essays in the middle school entrance examination and college entrance examination. Yiwuchen has its own fra

16th Ye Shengtao Cup Middle School Student New Composition Competition has many excellent works. Here are 11 selected articles, each of which can be a sample essay for full-scoring essays in the middle school entrance examination and college entrance examination.

Little dust-free and has its own fragrance (special prize)

Hefei City, Anhui Province 168 Middle School Zhou Feiyang

Chinese people have an unknown but deeply rooted hobby for bamboo. Although the Book of Songs and Chu Ci describes the filthy and filthy beauty of the scented herbs, hundreds of kinds, all of which are beautiful and fragrant, none of them are like bamboo, which has been vivid in the cultural memory of the Chinese people for thousands of years. Green bamboo ripples, the pure charm of gentlemen, the green bamboo branches and the clear gentlemen are the code words for the Chinese to intersect with bamboo for thousands of years.

Spring morning rain bamboo

In spring, if morning rises before sunrise and walks between the dense bamboo forests in the south, you will often have thrilling encounters. Spring rain is like fog, and the cold water vapor at night turns into thin rain, silently pouring into the mountains, like a gentle and ethereal kiss, but it has a warm and joyful response. In an instant, those wilderness and clear fields you think are, spring bamboo shoots burst out from the rocks, with bright and tender colors, and fearless growth. Whether it is the green bamboo shoots in the soil or the spring bamboo shoots in the pile of stones, they are arching upwards so firmly, and the trampling of wild beasts and the rolling and crushing of rocks are not cared about at all. Every bamboo shoot cannot choose where it grows, but every bamboo shoot is so confident, confident that it can break through the many obstacles of soil and stones and embrace spring and rain. This reminds people of countless bamboo-loving literati and monks in the Wei and Jin Dynasties, singing unscrupulously in such difficult and turbulent years, just like the green bamboo shoots rising from the rain in spring. No matter how heavy stones are in front of them, the chill behind them, they still roar and whistle, even though they die.

Summer Night Moon Bamboo

Secluded bamboo, deep bamboo, playing the piano, long roar;

The moonlight is bright and clear, the green bamboo is green in color, and it has never been surrounded by branches and vines, and it has always been bright and independent. A distant wind passes by, and the branches of the green bamboo under the moonlight are light, and the elegant fragrance spreads like silk threads. The sound of the zither is like jade fighting each other. The man chants long and long: "Sitting alone in the bamboo grove, playing the piano, and roaring again. People in the deep forest do not know, and the bright moon comes to shine." The chanting sound is accompanied by the elegant fragrance and the sound of the qin are spread far away, and it reaches people's hearts. To express it simply, then the clear mind is the gentleman walking alone, the sober and self-sustainment of the world, the green bamboo under the moon breaks out from the ground in spring to the proud independence in summer, the gentleman goes from the sharpness of a young man to the cautious self-sustainment of an adult, the growth and transformation of the world in the four seasons, and what he sticks to is a heart that does not go with the flow.

Autumn fog bamboo

The bamboo in the fog is particularly beautiful, especially in the autumn twilight. The leaves of the bamboo are dyed a little yellow, and have a gradient layering. When the twilight is combined, the flowing clouds scattered in the sky, and the sunset is painted on the bamboo like a molten gold, which is a beautiful picture of nature and random structure. This beautiful picture cannot be found in a piece of bamboo. It takes thousands of hectares of acres of bamboo forests and blue seas that stir up golden dots, so bright and so pure, so illuminated eyes, only intoxicated in it, speechless. Yes, it is sad that autumn is the energy! Autumn is destined to witness the disaster of bamboo moving towards life. It is like a middle-aged man who is used to seeing the world like a dream, and the human relationships like autumn clouds develop all kinds of desolate mentality. However, the sea of ​​gold-melting bamboos in autumn spreads endlessly, telling us to get out of the individual and go to the collective, and say goodbye to the ruggedness of the individual, you can enter the realm of the great self and blend this thin bamboo into the vast blue sea. Perhaps there is true eternal life in that golden wave.

Winter Wu Xuezhu

I think people’s memories are like snow. I wonder if Brother Zhu agrees? An old man is easily crushed by memories because it has the lightness and beauty of snow, which makes people sink, but a bamboo stick cannot, and the snow will bounce up if it accumulates slightly on the bamboo.Bamboo does not love the overwhelming snow. On the afternoon of winter, I walk in the snow. Thinking endlessly, the old people are like old bamboos, and they may not be able to see the spring after winter, but this does not mean that they are just memories. I believe that no matter what, the most beautiful thing in life is always tomorrow, and you will see people and things you have never seen in your life, and unexpected sorrow. This world is broad enough for us to keep going, watch and realize. So even if we are old, please learn from old bamboo, gently shake off the complex memories, and look at the sun tomorrow again.

"Several branches of light bamboo produce light, and a little bit of dust has its own fragrance." The prosperity, withering, life and death of bamboo contains infinite philosophy and meaning of life. Its spring, summer, autumn, winter, all of which are in line with the changes of the four seasons, the growth of cold and heat, and the growth of it is the result of its own. A few light bamboos also produce light.

Isn’t this the same thing in life? The young people's unyielding spirit, the young people's prudent and independent self-sustainment, the middle-aged people's broad mind, and the elderly's return to the essence and the interest of returning to the essence is inevitable, but life also has its own scenery. Looking back at the spring and autumn moonlights, the sorrow and bitterness will have its own true taste. If this is possible, a little dust-free one will have its own fragrance, which will be the true elegance and righteousness in the world.

[Reason for winning the award] Su Dongpo said: "No bamboo makes people vulgar", it can be seen that bamboo is an elegant object. It is really appropriate to use depicting bamboo to express high elegance. The title of the article is taken from the poem "Inscription on Ink Bamboo". The word "Bamboo" has not been mentioned, but the feelings of bamboo have already appeared, which is very interesting.

article describes bamboo in four seasons: spring, summer, autumn and winter. The bamboos of each season have their own characteristics: rain bamboo, moon bamboo, fog bamboo, and snow bamboo. They match the scenery of the four seasons with bamboo, just like dynamic ink and water bamboo scenery. In terms of the description of the scenery, it is already extremely elegant. What is even more rare is that most of the descriptions of bamboo in the article are accompanied by those romantic and profound literati. From a root, the true elegance lies not in the plum, orchid, bamboo, chrysanthemum, wind, flowers, snow and moon itself, but in the people who wander in and appreciate them.

Of course, the article also has some flaws. The descriptions in some places are a bit far away, and the relationship between people and bamboo in some places seems a bit stiff. However, considering that this is an on-site present composition, it is already amazing.

A person with a deep affection is hard to get into (special prize)

Jiangsu Huaiyin Middle School Chen Junyi

Thinking of the picture of "Fishing in Autumn" in Ni Zan , the remaining mountains and waters are purity, with the aura of the world that will never be defiled. The painting is like a person, and the person is like a painting. I can see Ni Zan hidden among the mountains and rivers, and she is so seldom affair.

Everyone is independent, and the things they love have their own deviations. If you are obsessed with it and enjoy yourself, you can be called "obsessed". For example, Du Liniang "is willing to live between life and death, the living can die, and the dead can live, even if you enter the underworld, you will not forget the plum and willow. This is to focus all your personal hope for the world on the young master in your heart, take love as a hobby, and love is deep and life.

However, Ni Zan, a painter who likes cleanliness, has nurtured his deep affection for himself, others, and even the world, and has nurtured his deep affection for transcendence and worldly world, and has made him seek extraordinary lifting power for the unconventional people and mediocre people and painting craftsmen. He washed the pagoda in the atrium, laid goose feathers in the thatched cottage, and used his naked pure clean eyes to see the scenery of the world. So, this emotional character devoted all his deep admiration and love to the infinite nature. He wrote "Mo Yuan Huiguanlu" and painted "Trees, Stones, Wild Bamboo Pictures". The inch of paper and gold under the dyed ink carries the persistent pursuits generated by his cleanliness.

It seems that "hobby" exists as a kind of favoritism, and has nothing to do with the things he is obsessed with. They can brew rich emotions and coat the uniqueness of the individual with exclusive light nickel.

At this time, I look at what Zhang Shigong said, "A man cannot be compatible with him without a habit, because he has no deep affection." He should nod his head like pounding garlic. Zhang Dai In this life, when he was young, he was obsessed with playing, carriages, tea plays, and chivalrous secrets. He used all kinds of emotions, and people were full of enthusiasm. With the evolution of dynasties and the regime was apart, the young man Zhang Dai, who became obsessed with, was hiding in the mountains and wild grass. The prosperous scenery he was obsessed with was like flowers and failed, falling into a vast white land. His emotions were not expressed. He then turned his back to the request, and recalled the young man's habit of indulging in will, and scolded him for nothing.He found a new upward path in his personal old habits - there was no Jiazi in the mountains, and he didn't know the year after the cold. He studied history, focused on writing, and devoted himself to nature. "He said that his husband was foolish, and he was even more sick and similar to his husband." This is the last couplet given to him by history.

At that time, I looked at the cloud forest of washing the tung trees again, and I couldn't help but feel it again. This man who is purified and virtuous is not even close to his first wife, just because he despises his dirty body. His overly harsh habits and no modifications have caused his popularity to disappear in the family. He is the only one who guards a dust-free soil in the essence. If Zhang Dai was also indulged in the habits and even tried to make the world give way to him, he would probably be buried in the crowds of the ruined and rich children.

"Enjoy" is affectionate, and "eunjoy" also misleads people's future.

is like the wonderful cave metaphor in the seventh chapter of Plato's " Ideal Country ". The habit of the cave has given birth to the emotional trend and motivation of people in the cave to break free from the shackles and crawl outward. It also means that people in the cave can only crawl to a fixed height of their habit, and will never be able to truly pass through the cave, stand in the clouds, and look at the sun.

Breaking free from the shackles and new shackles arrive at the same time.

Zeng Guofan said: "The way of heaven should avoid opportunism, be arrogant and self-absorbent, and be unwilling to do so." The road to the cave is long and long. The so-called "obsessed" is nothing more than to awaken people's potential for climbing. In addition, we are the only ones, and our never-stop footsteps.

View the "Autumn Clearing in the Fishing Village" again, and the Qing people are pure. There are rumors that Ni Zan, who is obsessed with being filthy, was thrown into the septic tank by Zhu Yuanzhang after his death. This is a later story.

[Reason for winning] This article focuses on "obsessy" and comments on historical figures such as Ni Zan. The article introduces the personality manifestations of Ni Zan and others' habits, and analyzes this unique personality, believing that "objectives" can make people full of the glory of their personality, but at the same time it can mislead people's future. Although it is limited by conditions such as time and environment, the statement of views may not be very sufficient, but it still shows the author's profound cultural and artistic heritage and good thinking ability. In terms of language, it is free to express itself and has a wide range of interests.

16 and a half years old

Wang Yiqing (Second Grade 2, Fenghua Experimental School, Bozhou City, Anhui Province)

The sunlight fell from outside the glass window, warm and slow. I put down my pen and listened attentively, listening to the sound of the clear and eclipse that had been entangled in the eaves and the treetops of the roofs, and the sound of the clear and unfinished.

Everything is so similar, as if whenever you look back, you will see the little girl standing in the middle of the classroom. Her face is red, but her eyes are particularly bright.

That was the first day of elementary school, and the teacher asked everyone to introduce themselves in turn. In just a few short sentences, the format is simply to report the name and age - I don't want to say the same thing as others, I think so when it's my turn. I stood up, but for a moment I was so nervous that I couldn't say a word.

The weather was so good that day, and there was soft light flowing in the classroom. My cheeks were so embarrassing that I felt hot, but I was stubbornly silent and unwilling to sit down.

I still clearly remember the panic and obsession at that time, but it has been so long. I'm already a teenager.

"Sixteen years old, a very good age." Everyone said so.

Yes, so good that every child is no longer cowardly, so good that I can muster up the courage to continue the unfinished speech ten years ago, and use words to spread the time.

Day day after day in childhood, it is as gentle as the fragrance of osmanthus.

At a family gathering, I shouted with pride, "The Chinese people are good." My family was surprised at first, and when I saw a bill in my hand, I laughed. They said lovingly and tolerantly, "She can't study in the 'bank'." I was three years old at that time.

When I was five years old, I could not help reading, but I could not help but run out of the house to feed the ants with broken bread crumbs. I could find out the ant nest within a radius of 100 meters. My mother took me home when she got off work. She taught me to read, "Taozhiyao, burning and shining ." I snuggled beside me, and her soft hair fell on my shoulders.

entered primary school, and I became taciturn and started studying. I knew that the sea had ups and downs and rolling blue scenery, which was my initial yearning and expectation.

…

The process of forgetting has also been forgotten.I don’t remember when I left the worry-free years. It seemed that I learned how to face farewell overnight. Since then, I have been thinking about it and no longer have any grudges. I am already sixteen years old, only two separate leaves and a few cicadas from my true adulthood.

A sixteen-year-old, I have seen the rising sun at 5:40 and the turbid moonlight during evening self-study. The days are almost the same, and the number of reference books on the table is growing at an astonishing rate.

I am no longer the child who will show off loudly if you first learn a few words.

On campus, peach blossoms have just bloomed, and the sunshine is shining in pieces. The eyes are filled with brilliant spring, flowers bloom in them, hanging on the branches, and the trees are full of glittering light.

"The peach is young and beautiful, and its beauty is bright." The poem naturally enters my mind. The days of reciting thousands of times seem to be just yesterday.

The innocent yearning that child has was not far away from, and it was realized one by one in the years that followed. At that time, she was thinking about it and wanted to see the sea.

The first time I saw the sea, standing barefoot on the soft beach, it was already dusk.

It’s dusk, it’s going to be late, and the dusk is dark. The overlapping waves extend into eternity wherever they look. Endless light and endless shadows have a grand meeting on the horizon. This moment is for me to witness.

At this moment, I suddenly felt that the meaning of life sometimes not only lies in participating in it, but also in a gentle sentence, "I am here."

The seventeenth year has passed halfway. I am chasing the direction while running, but still don’t know how to define my life well. Perhaps by capturing the moments of beauty to build life, all the moments I have experienced will make me remember that I am walking and I have not lost it.

At this moment, the sunlight gently flows slowly and gently, and if the wind blows, it will probably roll out waves. The light gaps slightly interlaced into shadows, and the beauty is like the old time hidden in the heart.

used to be unaware of what to do, but fortunately, I have never been willing to be mediocre.

16 and a half years old. This is a very good age.

I stared at the young life awakening in the sun. She walked into the night sea to salvage the lost stars.

(Instructor: Ji Fenghai)

[Comments]

This article has beautiful language and sincere feelings. The author stands on the tail of sixteen years old and looks back on the beauty in his life. My childhood naivety and stubbornness, my longing and yearning in my heart are still real, as if it was yesterday. But time flies, and in a blink of an eye, the days of adulthood are almost at hand. The gradual awakening of life memory inspired the young author to think about the meaning of life. Finally I understand that although the old times hidden in my heart are quietly passing away like lost stars, they will shine brightly in the long river of life. The author of this article has a fresh writing style, not crafted but poetic, which is indeed a masterpiece.

Old House Qianqianjie

Tian Miao Miao (Shandong Dongping High School Second Year)

It was late at night, and my parents, who had been busy all day, returned home with disheveled faces: "For you, the last video." Yes, the last video, the last memory of the old house.

The old house is located in the third alley of the county paper factory family compound. It was a low but humane home. Grandma received a notice of demolition at the beginning of the year, and from that day on, it has been officially abandoned by society. The weekly flower and grass cleaning is no longer carried out, and the weeds in the yard are growing unscrupulously, as if showing the final struggle and glory. Next to the house is a big sycamore tree with twists and dragons, lush branches and leaves. The wet and faded red bricks carved the traces of time in the sun day after day, making them more charming. Although the black tiles have many cracks, they always exude the smell of clay. Its ancient taste and mellow and warm temperament are filled with my childhood, my mother's youth, and my grandmother's middle age and old age.

holds up the phone and carefully clicks the play button. Memory and reality come into view together. Listening to spring in the old house, it reappeared yesterday! The gray rat woman under the brick, the ant hole in the cracks, and the chirping of crickets... The old house brought me closer to nature.Look, the unknown green rock in front of the door has been lying there since I remember it. It is the "cutting board" when we play games. We carefully selected a few wild grasses, then picked a few vegetable leaves with "worm eyes" from my grandma's vegetable garden, secretly took off a few broken tiles from the eaves, and cut them on the green rock, making delicious food in the children's world. Oh, by the way, don’t forget to grind some bricks from the red bricks, which are red and thin. If it has just rained and is sticky, this is the "pepper noodles" and is an indispensable seasoning! The blue rock in the video is still dark. I guess the wild vegetable juice from that time has penetrated into my bones.

Suddenly, two little sparrows flew into my vision. They hovered in the air, flapping their young wings, and finally landed on the stack of firewood and hay at the top of the charcoal pond, jumping around, and finally stood there, staring at the old house, as if they were also performing a solemn farewell ceremony. "The birds are in love with the old forest, and the fish in the pond are in love with the old abyss." This makes me feel guilty. The high school entrance examination is about to be imminent. After thinking about it for a while, I chose to prepare for the exam at home, but failed to go to the appointment and meet the old house for the last time. Maybe I have let down the old house for more than ten years, and I can't forgive myself in the end, so I can only long for the old house to forgive.

In the image, family and neighbors are busy, and old items are carried onto the truck, with reluctance and attachment written on their faces. Grandma, who had just recovered from leg injuries, stood silently by the pool with a crutch, staring at her "antiques" affectionately: the Eight Immortals Table, the Dresser of My Younger, the Old Toys of My Child... were all moved out, and she kept saying: "Be gentle, slow down, don't knock it!" Seeing the bustling old house gradually becoming empty on weekdays, the emotional cousin finally couldn't help it, turned around, covered her face and cried. And I couldn't control my reluctance and attachment in my heart. Tears rolled in my eyes, condensed into drops and rolled down my cheeks, falling into the palm of my hands, and also refreshed my heart. The last photo of the

image is a photo, which is the souvenir of grandma standing in front of the old house. Only grandma who has experienced vicissitudes and still has a strong spirit can match the red bricks and black tiles. Although grandma has a plot of relocation and is reluctant to leave her tears, she is open-minded and cheerful, not conservative, and can treat her new environment and new life calmly. Yes, the demolition and reconstruction of old houses are the inevitable result of social development. Perhaps the days of high-rise buildings will make us more accustomed to urban life, or perhaps convenient buildings will make grandma happier in her later years...

No matter what, the times are developing and progressing, but remembering and forgetting is a dialectical and brain-burning issue. I think we should remember those people and valuable old stories that have accompanied you along the way, collect those old objects with stories, and thank them for the joy or sorrow, sweetness or hard work that they have brought. It seemed as if I heard the sound of the sycamore tree beside the old house, "rustling". It was the music of autumn, not the farewell, but the wave of hand to say goodbye to me!

Leave the image of the old house, regain the memories of the old house, let the old house witness the past and history, and let the old shadows enrich the reality and the future!

(Instructor: Li Siwei)

[Comment]

This is an essay full of emotion, both with nostalgia and longing. The last video of the old house evokes "my" "past events", and the reluctance is vividly revealed on the paper. The sycamore trees beside the house, faded red bricks and cracked black tiles witness the growth and joys of the family. The demolition of old houses is the result of the progress of the times. There is no need to be sad or overly nostalgic. The future and hope are always ahead. (This article is a masterpiece of the winning award for the 16th Ye Shengtao Cup preliminary round)

Rural past

Ma Tiange ( Baoding No. 3 Middle School First year of high school)

The breeze blows across his cheeks, and apricot flowers fall like a drizzle. The oily wheat seedlings spread throughout the farmland.

Thoughts were brought back to March when I was young by the spring breeze.

Grandpa bent down, used a rake to cut ditches on the land, sow seeds, and I followed behind me, barefoot and flattened the small ditches. I kicked the left and the right. When I was tired, I fell on the ground and pulled out some small flowers and grass to play with them. I was afraid that those seeds would be kicked away by me. Grandpa didn't say anything, he just silently stepped on the small ditches and then took me home.

Cicada chirping embellishes the summer night, and the stars in the sky look like fairies' eyes, flashing, crystal clear and translucent. I took my grandfather's hand like a kite, and trotted all the way to the river at the entrance of the village. Listening to the gurgling water of the river, I lay in the grass, catching crickets and cucumbers. My grandfather stood on the side near the river bank, and used the big palm fan in his hand to repel mosquitoes and cool me.

is green and golden fruits dotted among them. The apricots are ripe. There is no longer the nobleness of the trees like snow in early spring, but it also reveals a different style.

The tree is full of sweet fragrance. Grandpa put me on his shoulder and asked me to pick larger and sweeter apricots from higher places. At that time, I stayed in the field for an afternoon, and I ate the apricot and my face and hands, and my belly was round, and I even had enough clothes to go home.

Autumn is approaching quietly.

Grandpa took me to the golden cornfield and watched people harvest corn in the fields. The corn grows so well, each one is so full, and some even reveal rows of golden teeth. After a while, golden hills were built beside every family’s fields, which was a paradise for children! We called and made sandbags with corn kernels. Time passes slowly in such beauty and happiness.

Winter has arrived.

Goose feather-like snowflakes are flying all over the sky, I run and smile, playing in the plain fields. "Master... Um..." I accidentally fell into the snow pile next to the road. Grandpa hurried over, helped me up, patted the snowflakes on my body, and said, "Is it okay? I broke my little head? Why did it fall down and I don't know how to stand up?" "No, it's okay, the snow pile is so soft and comfortable, I want to lie down for a while."

Sometimes, grandpa carried me on the small road in the fields, and the snowflakes decorated his already gray hair. At that time, I didn’t understand what aging was? These have no idea in my heart, but when I saw the white hair of snowflakes, there was an unspeakable bitterness in my heart.

Later, my grandfather passed away, but the past in the countryside was always soaked in the shadow of my grandfather, engraving those precious past times that never returned. Let me always remember what kind of person appeared in my life and lighted up the stars for me.

(Instructor: Hidden Snow)

[Reason for Winning] The article writes about the four seasons of a year, about the grandfather in the four seasons and the "me" of childhood, and integrates the nostalgia for grandfather into beautiful scenes. The clues are clear, concise and bright, and full of lifestyle. This article won the first prize in the preliminary round.

Whether it is moving or quiet

Li Junqi (Guangdong Province Foshan City Zheng Yutong Middle School Second Year)

Grandma and grandma are very different.

One day, the sun was shining, grandma sat under the osmanthus tree, and grandma rushed over on an electric bike, put down a bundle of delicate oil, pulled up grandma to chat... and chatted like this for an afternoon. Grandma told me this: Your grandma is so quiet! Grandma told me this: Your grandma is really active. Yes, whether it is moving or quiet, as long as the years remain, it is warm and beautiful.

Grandma is very quiet.

I heard that my grandmother is a lady from a family, and when she was young, she did not touch the spring water. After marrying my grandfather, I worked hard for half my life. Now that the calluses of her hands cover her delicate skin, she supports a home, feeds three daughters, and spends her best time. A short hair, sparse but clear silver threads, wrinkles climbed up to the face. Who knows that the girl holding a gauze more than fifty years ago leaned against the windowsill embroidered peonies...

Grandma loves flowers and trees. Especially osmanthus. The thriving osmanthus tree in front of the door is a testimony to my grandmother's thoughts. She takes care of herself day and night, waters and fertilizes her. The wind has no smell, but it is green after blowing. Then my grandmother was very stingy with wind and rain, and was very stingy with insects and birds, but she was very generous to me. The light yellow flowers were clustered together in clusters. Grandma reached out to pinch the roots of the flowers, picked them carefully, caught them with bamboo sieve, soaked them in clean water, and retained the fragrance. Some of them spread out and dried, and my grandfather liked flower tea very much; some were taken into the kitchen, and the fragrance of osmanthus cake and osmanthus porridge was instantly heard.The fragrance of cinnamon and rice were intertwined and melted in the mouth, and they squinted their eyes for a moment. When I opened my eyes again, I saw my grandmother moving a rattan chair and sitting under the osmanthus tree. Sometimes doing nothing, sometimes listening to books. The sun shines on my grandmother's head from the leaves, with golden light, silver-white silk, and naughty osmanthus flowers. It is the most beautiful garland I have ever seen. Grandma was very quiet and leisurely, just like when she was young.

Maybe in grandma's eyes: take "lost" apart: there are children, fruits, animals, mosquitoes and flies, which are enough to support the entrance of the alley in midsummer evening, which is very lively. Such a lonely grandmother lives a peaceful life.

Grandma is quiet, but grandma is very lively.

Grandma has never been to school. When she was a child, her family was poor and her grandma was very wild. In the mountains, in the vegetable fields, in the streams, catching fish, stealing vegetables... Later, I married my grandfather, and had a fuss for a while, and finally settled down and worked hard for half my life. I know that now, it's still so noisy.

Grandma is busy with a lot of things all day long: growing vegetables, going to the market, chatting with villagers... running around. I remember one time she forgot to cook while playing mahjong, so her grandparents and grandchildren cooked instant noodles and watched TV, and they had a lot of fun. I think she definitely doesn't like cooking, for fear of delaying her good show, but her grandma especially likes to cook new dishes. Hamburgers were not popular at that time, but I remember the taste of steak with green vegetables and steak. Occasionally there are times when there are failures, such as sweet brown sugar water pasta. Success and failure are both in life; it’s like vegetables are sour and sweet, and everything is settled down and slowly fermented back to sweetness. Grandma’s philosophy of cooking may be here.

Grandma is more keen on the market for her new dishes. An electric car is so majestic, as powerful as the Western cowboy. My father said he wanted to carry her many times, but she waved her hand: "Who cares about that little car, so boring." Then he stepped onto the electric car and left. After a while, he returned triumphant with a full range of spoils. This is how it is done every day, carrying fresh ingredients and decorating a fresh life. Grandma is very active.

Grandma and grandma teach me how to grow up. Grandma asked me to use static to control my movements, full of precipitation; grandma taught me to love freedom and keep it fresh. In the fragrance of flowers and rice, I watched the years pass by, but I couldn't take away their love for life.

Whether it is moving or quiet. Regardless of glory and hardship, the breath of happiness and peace is filled with joy and peace in every corner of life.

Grandma is very quiet and grandma is very active. They are very different, but they all love me very much, and I love them too.

(Instructor: Qinle )

[Reason for winning] This article describes two characters, one moving, one still, one vulgar and one elegant. Because of the contrast, their personality is fully displayed. What is most worthy of recognition in the article is the accuracy and fluency of its language expression. The character language and narrative language are very consistent with the character's identity and personality. The analysis and evaluation of the character are also very accurate and in place. What is particularly commendable is that there is no preset attitude towards praise and criticism towards the character. This article won the first prize in the preliminary round.

That day

Xue Yonghan (First year of high school affiliated to Beijing University of Science and Technology)

On the day of graduation, when the wind blew away the rain, we also dispersed.

tong stood in front of me, the mist covered her light brown eyes, and the tears filled with her eyes.

I didn't cry, nor did I wiped my tears for her, nor did I even hugged my shoulders and comforted her like before. He just stood there, looking at Tong without moving. But my heart was full of sourness, after all, it was about to fade from now on. Even if it is not the end of the world, it is impossible to have the chance to be with you day and night like before.

tong suddenly wiped the snot and tears on her face, and the rain on her cheeks, grabbed my hand and ran back to the campus.

She led me to the steps connecting the playground and the mathematics building: "Remember this?" - Of course I remember. Every time I have lunch, I will buy a can of yogurt from the convenience store, and then sit here to watch the boys playing basketball on the playground. You especially like a thin and tall boy, and I like another one. We come every day, but in fact we all know in our hearts that boys are not boys, we just like to be with each other.

She led me to the entrance of the school clinic: "Remember?"——Ah, of course! One summer, you fainted from heatstroke, so I carried you here. You are so heavy, but I kept running. Our school is too big, and I almost fell down when I carried you until I was over. Later, the head teacher asked me to go back to class, but I just didn't go back. I was here to accompany you until you woke up and finished hanging up. I sent you home that day, and I can still remember your address now!

She took me to the cafeteria: "Remember?" - Haha, I remember, this is the first time we quarreled. I didn't eat with you at noon that day, but I ate with others. The cafeteria you came to alone and started to get angry after seeing me. I kept coaxing you and finally had a meal with you. That should be the most angry I have ever seen you. To be honest, it's quite cute.

That day, we traveled all over the campus, looking for our common memories on those high and low buildings, on those long and short roads, on the tall and low trees, on the red and yellow flowers that we have picked, smelled, worn, and finally had to throw away, and even on an inconspicuous brick beside the wall.

Finally, we returned to the campus gate, and Tong smiled at me: "It's time for school now, let's go home together!"

That afternoon, we held hands, laughed and made noise, just like when we were at school every afternoon, we welcomed this sad ending with the initial attitude. We stood in front of the glass display sign at the bus stop, looking in the mirror with reflection as usual, and saw hair wet by the rain sticking to our faces randomly, but we were still so beautiful in the mirror.

I know that this is the most beautiful youth and the most cherished memory. Even if, from now on, the world will run away.

(Instructor: Yuan Xin)

[Reason for winning] This article is written as the "day" of graduation breakup, which shows the unscathing friendship. The article focuses on clues, using the life scenes I saw during graduation to connect every bit of my past life. Each location is related to a scene and carries a past event. The article describes trivial things in life, but it is full of life interest and shows the true friendship between classmates. The language expression is generally accurate, concise and literary. This article won the first prize in the preliminary round.

I am the peach blossoms blooming in the poems

Qi Jinghan (Liushan No. 1 Middle School, Liaoning)

"I used to be on the East Sea, Laoshan Eat purple clouds. I met Anqigong in person, and ate dates as big as melons." There is nowhere to look for Penglai in the vast East Sea. An Qi's immortal saw the changes of the world, and it was a thousand years. One day I was drunk and left the ink on the stone, and gorgeous peach blossoms grew on the stone.

"The ink marks are drunk and sprinkled with peach blossoms, and the markings on the stone are as rotten as clouds." From then on, I bloomed in the world, and even followed a wisp of ink fragrance, blooming in the poems that have lasted for three thousand years.

The spiritual energy from the Book of Songs has passed through the simple and simple Qin and Han dynasties, the bright and beautiful Tang dynasties, the bright and beautiful Song dynasties, and the beautiful Ming and Qing dynasties. In the writings of poets of all dynasties, I am sometimes as beautiful as a young girl, sometimes as quiet as a hermit immortal, and sometimes as vicissitudes like a hero and a beautiful woman. Sometimes I am as tall as a myth, and sometimes I am as easy as my neighbors by the well.

On the bank of the river, I bloomed, watching the children playing and playing beside me. The flow of sunlight reflects their faces, like my petals on the branches, full and moist, innocent and pure. The smile sounds like the light bell of heaven, illuminating the wind on all sides clearly without being stained by the dust. This flawless purity is just like the first blooming me, like the newlywed bride surrounded by children, bright and beautiful, and radiant:

The peach is young, the bright and brilliant. The son is back and he is suitable for his family.

The peach is so beautiful, it’s actually a bit weird. The son is back and is suitable for his family.

The peaches are young and their leaves are lush. The son is back and is suitable for his family.

"The years are quiet and good, and there is no sorrow in the passing years" is just hope and blessings. I bloom as promised every year, but the world has already smoke and war has already flown. I am destined to enter a person's poems and shine strangely under his pen. "Suddenly I met a peach blossom forest, hundreds of steps across the shore, no miscellaneous trees, the fragrant grass was delicious, and the fallen flowers were colorful." He was once a young man who had been brave and brave, traveling with his sword, and was determined to save his master from difficulties and even more ideal to save the people from water and fire.However, it is difficult to fulfill the wishes of good people in troubled times. Heroes are everywhere, and they are unwilling to "bow their backs for five dou of rice" and are unable to abandon their lifelong ambitions. They can only return to the garden and find a place to put this belief. So, the place where I bloomed was transformed into shape under the pen of Tao Gong:

"The land is flat, the houses are swaying, and there are fertile fields, beautiful ponds, mulberry and bamboo. The fields are transported, and chickens and dogs are heard." From then on, the "Peach Blossom Land" is rich, abundant, bright and peaceful! Become an ideal world that people yearn for. However, in the past thousand years, except for the fisherman who had stayed for a short time, no lucky person has been here. The scene of "the intercourse between men and women dressed like outsiders. The yellow hair and drooping hair and enjoying themselves" can only be the home of people's desire.

Even though, in the prosperous Tang Dynasty, I did have the arrogance of "the spring scenery of peach blossoms bloomed first, and no one looked at the brightness", the abundance of "the egrets flew in front of Xisai Mountain, and the flowing peach blossoms flowing in the water", I also have the brightness of "the red peach blossoms contain the last rain, and the green willows bring more spring smoke", the gorgeousness of "the peach blossoms in this door last year, the peach blossoms reflect each other red", and the magnificence of "the nine-fold spring scenery drunken fairy peaches" in the Daming Palace. However, the prosperity still cannot hide the desolation of "the road has frozen bones". The flowers bloom and fall, the ink traces are still fragrant. The drums in the fishing sun are rolling, and the building is about to collapse. In the poet's writing, the "source of peach blossoms" is still nowhere to be pursued, "I feel the feelings in the hometown of Wuling, and I think of peach blossoms coming into my dreams."

The rise and fall are changing, and the years are gone. I am still blooming in the world, and in the poems of generations of literati and poets, "The flowers are similar every year, but the people are different every year. The spring breeze is intended to be beautiful in peach blossoms, and the peach blossoms are unintentionally arousing poetry."

People in the world see peach blossoms but not in Peach Land . Peach Land is only in dreams. "It is easy to find the Taoyuan to avoid Qin, and the peach blossoms are red again. "The Taoyuan is only in the mirror lake, and the shadows fall and the waves fall ten miles red."

This dream, a thousand years.

Now, I have seen all the vicissitudes of the world, and I am still raising lightly in the spring breeze, just like an immortal who has just bloomed on the ink stone. However, people no longer have to deliberately look for a paradise. They are already everywhere, singing everywhere, laughing everywhere, yellow hair and drooping, and enjoying themselves.

The trees are full of red and beautiful, and the elixirs are colorful and the spring is melting. In the new poem, I was portrayed like this: "Standing with spring, my skirt flutters, and the poetic red ignites a tree of spring."

How can "a tree" place my feelings? I bloom for thousands of years, stay in the ink for thousands of years, and finally ignite the spring with the poetic red!

(Instructor: Gu Hongjun)

[Comment]

Article starts with Li Bai "Send to Wangwu Mountain Man Meng Darong" and starts with the peach blossom random thoughts of "silent and contemplation, thinking for thousands of years". From An Qisheng of the Qin Dynasty who is known as the Qianshengweng, to Zhu Xu, a scholar in the Qing Dynasty, to peach blossoms written by modern poets, the three thousand years of literature takes peach blossoms as a record of the peach blossoms, there is flawless purity, an outward world, the thought of entering a dream, prosperity and decline, honor and disgrace, success and failure, all drift away in front of her eyes. Peach blossoms are like sleeping beauty, like a lover in a dream, reading countless people in the world, attracting people's attention and reverie, and at the end, "The peach blossoms are everywhere around you" declare the main theme, which is indeed natural and lofty! A tree of spring light really cannot accommodate the author's feelings, because peach blossoms have become a memory of generations of Chinese people who have traveled through thousands of years, deeply engraved in the inscriptions of Chinese historical civilization. Although it is weak, it can "ignite the spring light for a lifetime." Being able to understand the process of civilization from peach blossoms, experience the essence of tradition, and show the feelings of family and country is a rare work for young students.

The taste of the world

Li Yujie (, Zhengji High School, Jiangsu Province, , high school)

Last night I drank a bowl of pickled mushroom soup. The color was turbid and dark green, with a bad appearance, and the taste was also bitter. I tasted a few sips, frowned, and didn't want to drink it again.

Dad said seriously: "This is good! The 'ge' is taller than potatoes." I was stunned for a moment, and realized that this words came from Mr. Shen Congwen's mouth and had a happy laugh. So I remembered the mushrooms of the old man Wang Zengqi. Wang really had no good feelings for this thing when he was young. Whenever he saw it in Beijing, he had to buy some and add meat to stir-fry it. No one in his family likes to eat very much, so he "broken".

So, a little bit of sourness arose in my heart, imagining the way that Mr. Wang ate the mushrooms alone. What he chewed and swallowed was not only a bite of slightly bitter dish, but also a lonely memory.

is actually not just a mushroom. This half of the book "Grass and Trees on Earth" is always nagging, but it can never avoid a "hometown". Mr. Wang is from Gaoyou. Gaoyou produces salted eggs with a lot of fine texture and a lot of oil. He is quite proud of it. I still remember the description in the article: As soon as the chopsticks are pierced, red oil will appear. I don’t know if Mr. Wang raised his hand and wrote to recall such an attractive scene, and would he be able to leak out like a half-aged child.

There are also fried rice in the streets and alleys, the scorched crumbs from the paste, and the new wormwood that grows when the spring water rises. Memory and taste are intertwined. It is probably the illusory "homesickness" that can be substantiated when traveling and wandering, and swallowed it into your stomach with salty tears. You can also slip back to the alleys of your hometown when you dream at midnight, and listen to the long shout of a young peasant woman selling purslane.

As a child, an elderly man living in Taiwan returned home in the village. Thinking that the big grandmother had to make some expensive snacks to entertain distant guests, the children in the alley alley went to eat. But I never thought that the table of dishes and soup was commonly eaten by villagers. The Chinese toon sprouts are mixed with small tofu and fried okra, and a large stew with sauce. A pot of steaming spicy soup: a few slices of shredded dried bean skins and kelp, fried peanuts, newly pickled pickled vegetables, a few pieces of radish and two handfuls of soybeans, and stew them together. After finishing, sprinkle pepper, they are all made of stuffed buns with a bowl of steel. The old man ate two bites, but he couldn't help but burst into tears.

When I was young, I always thought about the magic in this food that could make people cry. Now, when I recalled it again, my heart felt like I was being fryed repeatedly and carefully, carefully, and I knew something sourly.

Still remembers when "China on the Bite of the Tongue" became popular, I always like to move a small stool in front of the TV and watch Mongolian women make milk skin and tofu, Qishan sauce noodles presented like a flowing mat in the rural areas of Shanxi, and the barley cakes and glutinous rice cakes made by Tibetan elderly people with stone hammers... Each food is no longer just food, but a microcosm of regional folk culture and humanistic feelings. The Chinese nation is probably the nation in the world that pays the most attention to "eating". Therefore, whether it is the sweet and salty battle between Zhejiang Mahua and Tianjin Mahua, or the theory of the glutinous rice dumplings being rolled or dumped, it means that the defense and persistence of the original food culture of my hometown carries the "homeland love" that can never be moved out if it sinks into my heart.

Teacher Qijun has an essay called "Nestuousness in Zongzi". The various rice dumplings made by her mother, her favorite ash soup dumplings, and folk remedies for using ash soup dumplings to treat indigestion, the scene of giving "rich rice dumplings" to beggars, the longing for a loving mother, the endless love for her hometown, and the feelings about the world and life, warm, compassionate, desolate and quiet, can indeed make people cry when read.

So, I suddenly understood the tears of the Taiwanese old man, one by one, one by one, turbid and crystal, heavy and light. It was the sigh of satisfaction that had passed through the strait, separated by thousands of waters and mountains and decades of cold spring.

Reminds of Chen Xiaoqing Teacher wrote in " The most delicious ": The best food often only requires the simplest cooking method, retaining its true original flavor. After savoring it, I found that no one would be inspired by the delicately prepared delicacies on the table. A typical Chinese diner, his chopsticks pick up dishes, his teeth chew memories, and his throat swallows emotions. When he was far away in a foreign country, he would look for the location of the "Chinatown" as anxious as a baby who was looking for breasts - perhaps just to taste a small bun from Hangzhou and drink a sip of rice wine from Jiangnan, it would be like touching the ridge of his hometown, happy and happy.

And what is he happy about? What I enjoy is simplicity, simplicity, originality, original taste, what I enjoy is the authenticity and purity of the flavor of the homeland, what I enjoy is the taste in the memories of the past years and has not yet been disbanded, nor has it added more flashy algae decorations.It is precisely this "simplicity" and "authenticity" that is the backbone of food and the soul of my hometown. Just like the yellow peas sold in Chuan Hutong, it can make Mr. Liang Shiqiu suddenly feel sore in less than five dollars.

It uses the most direct sensory stimulation to represent a spirit that goes to the sex, a belief that points to the ultimate, a special nostalgia, or attachment. It is enshrined in all kinds of memories of my hometown, hometown and old friends, and sounds the clarion call that transcends nothingness, returns to the truth and return home in nothingness.

(Instructor: Liu Jing)

[Comment]

article is written from a bowl of extremely ordinary and slightly bitter pickled mushroom soup, which aroused the young author's deep thoughts on the taste of the world. While recalling past experiences, the author quotes the classics and tells them in a leisurely manner. Whether it is the tears of the Taiwanese elderly or the memory of Mr. Wang’s hometown, they all tell us that the taste we miss is actually the life experience intertwined with memories and tastes, and what we long for is actually the reunion with memories of the past. The article has beautiful language, profound thoughts, and intriguing ideas. It is a masterpiece.

Rapeseed flowers bloom again

Zheng Xueqiu (Pingyang County, Zhejiang Province Zhejiang Ao High School Grade 2)

"The fence falls sparsely and the path is deep, and the flowers on the tree fall have not become shade." Growing in the south, rapeseed flowers bloom throughout the town every March and April. On the country road, a large area of ​​rapeseed fields came into view, and the breath of spring came.

The west side of my hometown house is also a large area of ​​rapeseed flower field. The breeze combed her withered hair, allowing her to grow golden hair again. When the wind blows, the flowers are like girls dancing gracefully in yellow dresses. And the leaves are like two fans, shaking up and down. She is like a gentle and beautiful woman in Jiangnan, and she gently tells a beautiful past with her graceful figure.

When the rape flowers bloom, I always beg my grandfather to take me to the rape flowers field. I especially like to let my grandfather's big hand, which has been cured by wind and rain and covered with calluses, hold my delicate little hand. That big hand is not only a symbol of farmers, but also the most precious gift given to farmers by the land.

Passing through the rapeseed fields, my grandfather would pick a rapeseed flower, put it on my head, and call me "Little God of Happiness in the Spring". I always laugh, and a laugh echoes in the fields.

When the sun comes out, rapeseed looks even more dazzling. In the sun, rape flowers are unrestrained. The south wind blew, golden waves surged, and waves flashed with waves of light under the sunlight. The fresh, free and refreshing fragrance in the rapeseed field is blended with the warm, brilliant and indescribable colors into a burning flame, attracting and scorching the tender feet. In the brilliant oil camellia field, I became a young man chasing the light, running towards the endless flower fields fanatically.

So, I walked into the golden ocean with curiosity. A breeze blew, and ripples appeared on the sea, and a charming fragrance walked from the tip of my nose into my whole body. This fragrance was not like the enthusiasm of a rose, nor like the restraint of osmanthus, but with the natural fragrance of earthy smell. She is like an endless ocean, allowing me to swim on it; she is like a golden carpet, allowing me to step on it and sleep with peace of mind; she is like a slim girl, playing hide-and-seek with us.

Sometimes I scoop up a large scoop of water and splash it onto a vegetable field. Under the sunlight, the small droplets of water actually reflected dazzling light. Let me understand that each of us small individuals has the possibility of radiating our own light. The light made me feel a little unopened. I turned my head and smiled at my grandfather, saying, "Look at me, hehe." My grandfather put down the farm work in his hand, bent down his waist for a long time, and looked at me kindly and kindly. "Grandpa, grandpa, I'll help you." As if I had discovered something new to the world, I ran to my grandpa again, carried the hoe, and started farming as if I was accustomed to it. I was busy for a while before, and my grandfather followed me to clean up the "message" for me. "Hey, what is this? Is it a rice?" I hurriedly ran to the front and squatted down. "Silly kid, this is not a rice, it's obviously a miraculous grass!" Grandpa rushed up, glanced at me, touched my head, and said with a smile.

After finishing the farm work for a day, the sun was covered in colorful clouds and wanted to go back. Walking on the way home, my grandfather picked out dog tail grass, flew up and down for a while, and a vivid puppy appeared in front of me.

"Haha, do you like it?" Grandpa picked up the puppy and shook it in front of my eyes. "Grandpa, you are so awesome, show it to me." I couldn't wait to extend my hand. "Then it depends on who gets home first." Grandpa smiled and ran to the distance. "Wait for me, grandpa!" I immediately chased after me, leaving only the sun slowly moving towards the horizon.

Time flies, and I haven’t set foot on the farmland in the west for a long time. I can’t even go back to my hometown a few times a year. The rape flowers there should be blooming again, and the grass there is probably already covered with the entire field. I thought about it, but I don’t know when I will see that person, that land, and that flower again.

Xiao Hong In her novel "The Legend of Hulan River", she recalled her own vegetable garden and her childhood with her grandfather. The more you read those cute words, the more you feel, the more you feel, the more you feel happy. Even though things are different in the world, I am happy and the same is true!

Perhaps it is the years that take away the warmth; perhaps it is the breeze that brings the call from afar; in the depths of memory, the beautiful rape flowers bloom all over!

(Instructor: Wu Xingjie)

[Comment]

article uses "rapeseed flowers" throughout the whole text, but in fact, it uses "rapeseed flowers" to write about spring, longing for grandpa, and nostalgia for childhood. The personification of "rapeseed flowers" and the description of scenery is vivid. In addition to showing the author's love for "rapeseed flowers", it also expresses the feelings attached to "rapeseed flowers" more deeply. The article has novel ideas, the materials are beautiful and meaningful, and they are spiritual and literary. The brushwork is calm and appropriate, and the brushwork is relaxed and relaxed, which reflects nature.

This picture is a must-remember classical Chinese word specially compiled for high school students, which can make learning more efficient.

The dust of the old house

Fang Ying ( Zhejiang Pujiang Middle School Grade 2)

Follow the path back to the village in my hometown. The sky was getting darker, and the gray clouds fell down and broke into the soil. Not far away is the old house, hidden behind an old tree. The trees are broad and the leaves are deep, and their vigorous branches extend around. There is a dry well next to the tree, and my father never lets me get close. I once looked through curiously and found that there was no drop of water in the well, the walls of the well were dyed with green color, and the silence of the birds and the freedom of the moss attached to it. The old house next to the old house has been renovated, painted with gray-blue paint and covered with new bean-red tiles. But the mud-colored walls of the old house are also sad, and large pieces of sand and ash fall off, revealing mottled mud bricks. There was originally a stone slab cracked in half and a small flower bed with peony planted in front of the old house. This time I came back, all of them had been removed, but the place was much empty, with only small stones and broken pieces rolling together, shining with a shallow coldness.

approached the old house, and a dog barking shocked me so much that I took a few steps back. It was a puppy born to the dog I once raised. The big dog was gone a few years ago, and now the puppy has become a big dog. I remember it didn't bark me last time when I came, but this time I came back no longer recognize my smell. I think it's been a bit long. When his grandfather heard the dog barking, he spoke out and stopped him: "Xiaohu, they are all his family!" When he heard his grandfather's voice, Xiaohu returned to his simple nest and lay down gently, like the most loyal guard. Grandfather's turbid eyes were tender, and his vicissitudes of face was filled with joyful orange.

"Hey, here it's here!" I responded to my grandmother's shout and returned to the house to prepare for dinner. They are all light dishes. In the past, my grandmother could still make some soup, but now the power of the chef is in my father's hands. The father put the vegetables he loved to eat in front of her. The grandmother narrowed her eyes and asked, "What is this?" The father replied patiently. After a while, my grandmother narrowed her eyes again, picked up her chopsticks and pointed at the dish in front of her, called my father's nickname, and asked, "What is this?" My father's answer was integrated into the years, fierce and pious. There was a large picture calendar posted on the walls of the house, which was mostly yellowed by thick oil smoke, and the edges and corners were also broken and fell. I suddenly remembered that my grandmother took out an iron can and gave me melon seeds just now, which seemed to have become a routine.The iron can still look like I remember, but the green patent leather was already rusted, like the skin on my grandmother's hand, wrinkled and uneven. Grandma opened the iron can. There was a blue plastic bag inside. After opening it, there was a white plastic bag inside, and finally there was half a can of melon seeds inside.

The drizzle in the sky is deep and shallow, shaking the new green. I remembered the glutinous rice cakes made for me when my grandmother made for me when she was young, and the sweetness of sesame seeds was pasted; I remembered the playful house with my neighbor and younger sister when I was a child. We used leaves to make dumpling skins and grass and wild flowers as fillings; I remembered that I had run wild in the fields and competed with my father for more wild vegetables; I remembered that I took the popsicles made from warm water and ran to the stream to catch tadpoles and caught a bucket of water, but my grandfather smiled and told me that this month was a good time for toads to reproduce. The weeping willows and sparse shadows of apricot flowers. Whether I am on the hillside or by the stream, the old house is always the place where I want to go. From sunrise to dusk, from ignorance to full of confidence, the old house always stands behind me, gentle and friendly, is a corner that I keep playing, is the spring scenery of two parts of dust and one part of flowing water, and is the clouds and smoke in the wind and rain of pear blossoms. The rain drizzled on the old tiles, like an echo from another era.

The wind is warm and the sun is long.

I came back from a lost road like a stranger, but I crashed into another mist. It seems that personal growth must be accompanied by the alienation of past things and the fading of past relationships. The colorful flowers bloomed all over the past, but now only the broken wells and dilapidated walls are left. Suddenly I realized that the past had been pushed far and far away by me, and it became a cinnabar that was almost indifferent to my heart. I stroked the scars on the old house with my hands, as if I touched the past years. The old house is like the moon shining with sparks in the clear ditch, broken gray, and it is a scar, melting with my burning blood, as simple and charming as a furnace.

On this land, I am a traveler from afar, and I am also a returning man. Time passes like a carriage and horse, and the natural change of scenery makes time have a meaning of nostalgia. Behind me are the scenery I miss and the people I love. The fleeting light has discarded the complexity. But I should still cherish the people and scenery around me with joy, and still be able to make wine with pine flowers and boil tea with spring water. Don’t be sad about the past, don’t hurt the scenery, look back at the clear and sparse flowers and trees, look forward at the blue bricks and bricks, and return to the green field in your heart. This is the so-called “What is the last heart? I can use this to comfort my love.”

was shocked by a cry in the field, carrying the light rain, embracing the old house. I saw the soft light of light flashing behind my grandmother, like an orange flower floating.

(Instructor: Xu Min)

[Comment]

Inadvertently growing up, many familiar things were left behind by us, and we were getting farther and farther away from our walking figures. Through delicate brushstrokes and using the old house as a carrier, this article expresses the author’s nostalgia for the past and cherishes the present. Hidden behind the old house is the gradually aging face of grandfather and grandmother, and the worry-free childhood gradually fading away. The author expresses his nostalgia for the old scenery and events of his hometown with beautiful words. His poetic imagination and feelings resonate strongly while marveling at his novel vocabulary and solid language skills. Maybe you can hear the bagpipe, maybe you can see the virgin land where birds pass by, or maybe after refracting the sunlight, we can return to the "old house era" described by the author and feel a sincere feeling.

(Article from the Internet)