The grave of my great-grandfather is deep in the mountains, and I had to walk a long way to pay my respects. In the early hours of the morning, the fog was so thick that the view from a few meters away was very blurry. It makes sense to choose to go out at such a time, because you have to go to several mountains to pay your respects today. I remember that morning, my father walked behind me with the offerings, and I ran ahead of him, jumping up and down, like a little bird out of a cage. I seemed to be humming a tune, perhaps.
The path wound through the hills, the weeds growing up to my chest. We passed fields, skirted streams, climbed steep slopes, and crested a few more hills before finally coming to a ravine. My father softly shouted, "Don't run too fast, there's a bamboo forest ahead." I answered, but ran hard into the canyon. My father shook his head at the back and smiled faintly. He knew full well that I loved bamboo very much.
Nearer, nearer. A soft rustle blew in the mountain wind, and around the corner I finally saw the bamboo forest. The greenish tides have since taken root in my life, never to be erased.
The leaves above the bamboo forest leaped and tipped with the wind, making a chilling sound, like a green rush, all facing one direction. The slender and verdant leaves are just like flat boats in the rapids, scrambling toward the front. I stood in the middle of thousands of bamboos, only to feel that I have been conquered by the green color. Tall bamboos tower to the sky, all the way to the top of the canyon, covering the sky, playing with the white clouds. Tiny bamboo, just breaking out of the ground, right, like the size of my finger, tender green, but also in the branches splashed a cluster of tiny boat, to join this fog in the fight for the flow. The green shock is spreading, thousands of emerald beckons in front of me, I caress the big and small bamboos, in the forest around and around, just feel everything is so wonderful.
Father put down the offering on his shoulder and stood in the forest, also a little lost in thought.
The sound of crisp birdsong came from the forest, the tits, I think, jumping on the green branches, enjoying the breath of this heaven and earth. The gurgling sound, that is the clear spring seeping down from the cracks of the rock, right, as crystalline as pearl and jade. Cold fog in the bamboo body seeped out a water droplet, some along the bamboo joints gently sliding down, leaving traces of streams walking past; some from the tip of the leaf shook a few times, then naughty swung away, such as meteors to the earth like a sharp fall.
Later, perhaps the first rays of sunlight that pierced the forest mist awoke my father. He used a knife to peel off a thumb-sized piece of bamboo and handed it to me. Gently patted my little head and called out, "Let's go, we still have a lot of road to go." Perhaps I was young, or perhaps I didn't feel y enough for my ancestors. The lonely mounds in the barren mountains always made me feel eerie, and if I didn't have my father by my side, I can guarantee that I would have cried in fear. That year's Qingming did not leave too many memories of the ancestors, but always remembered the bamboo forest, that green, ethereal world. I also remembered the bamboo that my father sharpened for me, the bamboo that was sharpened into a flute on the night of the Qingming Festival, and the bamboo that was played on my father's lips. That mellifluous and deep sound has carried me through my entire childhood and my entire life.
Yes, then I grew up. I read a lot of poems about bamboo, such as "Three or two branches of peach blossoms outside the bamboo, the duck is the first to know the warmth of the water in the spring river." It's Su Shi's, right? And "The bamboo clamor returns to the raccooness, the lotus moves under the fishing boat." It's by Wang Wei. Read a lot of many, have seen many people painting bamboo, such as Zheng Banqiao's painting, but always feel lost. That ethereal world that no verse, no brush can replace. Yes, at least in my heart.
Second, the rain of Qingming
Lost the bamboo of Qingming, always feel the lack of too much flavor. However, the sudden rain in the regret, but let me have a renewed experience of Qingming.
That year's Qingming, I stayed with a friend in a foreign country. Perhaps because they thought I was a bit lonely, they invited me to go to the tomb with them. The sky on that day was overcast, and the sound of thunder was faint, perhaps, it was going to rain.
The desolate weeds, the low graves, the pressed money at the head of the graves, the yellow paper behind the graves, the offerings in front of the tombstones, the candles and the paper money, as well as the white streamers, everything was all too familiar to me, and familiarly a bit cold. After my childhood, I am no longer afraid of graves, but also walked in the mountains late at night, but also in the unfamiliar graveside nap, all of this has long been commonplace. Yes, Qingming is just a form. "Sacrifice of abundance is not as good as raising the thin", treat their loved ones better before life is more important, after the death of more forms and what is the significance of it.
But the friend suddenly burst into tears. Buried in the grave was his father!
The mountain wind suddenly blew, and after a few faintly muffled thunderclaps, an opening was torn in the black sky. Lines of rain then streaked from the sky, and in an instant the whole world became a world of rain sounds. Like a sobbing voice, it came on such a day that tombstones, trees, pedestrians, and eyes were filled with patches of tears. A friend's eyes were bloodshot and he cried a little mournfully in the storm. A few relatives helped him up from the grave, and his eyes never left the wet headstone with his father's name engraved on it. Suddenly, I cried too. In the wind and rain, I suddenly remembered my father in a faraway place, remembered the Qingming Festival year after year, and remembered the low graves in the barren grass in a faraway place.
The rain fell like this on the hills, pouring out all the grief. Long or short, high or low, a segment of the past emerged in the rain cracks. I was suddenly homesick, really, really homesick!
Lying in bed at night, in the dim light, listening to the sound of the heavy rain pounding on the window pane outside, listening to the sound of the banana leaves trembling in the rain, the books in my hand turned page by page. Somehow, there is a saying that I have never forgotten until today, which says, "The trees want to be quiet, but the wind does not stop, the children want to raise but the parents are not there." At that time, suddenly tears fell like rain, climbed up in the dark night, and softly chanted "Qingming" to the heavy rain outside the window: "The rain falls one after another during the Qingming Festival, and the pedestrians on the road want to break their souls. I ask where the tavern is, the shepherd boy points to the apricot blossom village."
That year's Qingming, I seemed to grow up a lot, and began to understand the bitter taste.
Three, a biting love
Life is sometimes really wonderful, and then, I met a girl. Her name was Su Yuzhu.
Yes, how ethereal, how beautiful name ah, just like her quiet beauty, quiet character. Yuzhu, Yuzhu, rain and bamboo, both of which were once my favorites, were thus merged into one in the body of a woman.
She is also a favorite rain and bamboo, as she said in her own article: "very much like to linger in the bamboo forest, in the bamboo forest to forget when and where to go, a mind in the sky and the earth's empty Cui faded restlessness and sadness. Bamboo is the world's most lonely but the most relaxed spirit it, I stared at it, it also slightly looked at me, the flow of time so leisurely from the fingertips slipped through, no longer find. Therefore, the rain often to bamboo self-metaphor, only hope in the valley embrace a body of cool and calm ......"
Yes, she is so ethereal woman ah, can love with her is my life in the biggest happiness ah! She and I usually give each other poems, she taught me to write ancient style, I taught her to write modern. How can the distance of thousands of miles be more than a telepathic connection between our hearts? In the midst of the poems, the two hearts are getting closer and closer. Sometimes I often wonder what kind of regret she would have if she hadn't met me in her life. And if I hadn't met her, how pale would I have been?
Fate always likes to joke with people. Yes, joy is the dewdrop on the lotus leaf, fleeting; sadness is the shadow in the moonlight, inseparable. I have never understood! I have never understood!
When we fell in love, she was not far from the time of her great departure. For the sake of the future of the two of us, we then began our days of struggle. She persevered and chose therapy, even though that would have been hard to work. I wrote her poems or articles every day to give her strength of mind in the pale hospital, and she often smiled and relieved me! But our love for each other didn't end up touching the heavens, and one quiet night, in a world of light rain, she let go of her hands and went on her way, alone, in search of that Plum Blossom Dock where we had lived together in a previous life.
I don't know how I walked through those days, until today, I turn over the words she wrote to me, always without realizing that tears fall like rain. At this moment, opening her words, one moment after another from before she left is resurrected in front of me.
"Butterfly Lovers"
Before the third night is over, the people have not yet rested, to the mirror clean makeup, Guzui quietly swallowed. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.
We are tired of the evening by the fence condensation tears stacked, cold night wind, want to blow the soul through. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.
"The Phoenix Platform"
The rain is wet, the plums are fragrant, the bamboo is green, but the heart is heavy. I'm afraid to lean on the east side of the building for fear that the moon will return to the palace. Unfortunately, there is no color in the thoughts of love, Luang mirror, haggard face. To only hate, idle love two places, ancient and present day the same!
Sadness is thick. A curtain of blue shadows, empty tear marks to stay, the next as empty. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to find the best way to get the most out of your life, but I'm sure you can. The only thing you can do is to share your sorrows and send your wine, under the bright moon, with a lamp, chanting the wind. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and then you can get your hands on some of the most popular products and services.
It's like being in front of the eyes, but everything has become a distant memory! I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good look at this, but I'm sure I'll be able to get a good look at this," he said.
Yes, how she did not want to leave me, but we can not get rid of the fate of the trick. I still remember that before she left, she whispered softly to me, "My dear, as long as it rains, it is the rain that comes back to see you. I don't want you to be sad!" Yes, as long as it rains, she is back and will come back to me.
Outside the house at the moment, the rain is murmuring again, but your spirit has returned? It's just that the sky is far away, and at this moment, which hill are you buried on?
Conclusion
Yes, I know, Qingming is coming again. But how can I recapture the days of my childhood? How should I hide my father's gradually aging face? And where should I go to pay my respects to my favorite people? How can I face the loneliness of my future life?
Walking in the days of Qingming, I hate Qingming!
Essay 1:
"Another year the grass is green", along with the footsteps of the spring girl, the Qingming Festival is coming soon. On Friday, I followed my mom and dad to my hometown-Qintong to sweep the tomb.
Qintong is located in the north of Jiangsu River area, known as the "Pearl of the Suzhong" reputation, where not only the world's rare animals "four elephants" - - Elk, as well as the well-known The "Elk", there is also the world-famous "QinTong boat festival". Listen to live in the old home of the seven grandma said, boat festival here can be very lively! Another day is the "boat festival", I would like to see the old home of the dragon boat race spectacular scene ah, but my mother said, I went home that day, can not go to see, I feel very sorry.
Our whole family went to my wife's grave, on the road, I saw their expressions of great sorrow, I can not help but think of my wife's life on my favor, her old man's kind face, recalling the wife to help knit sweater scene, think of this, my nose is sour, tears also "slipped" out. I think of this, my nose is sore, tears also "slipped" out. I remember the Tang Dynasty poet Du Mu said: "Qingming Festival rains, the pedestrians want to break their souls", although it is not raining today, the sun shines on me, but I do not feel a little warmth. My wife's grave is at the end of the village. As soon as I arrived there, my grandfather placed apples, rice balls and other offerings in front of my wife's grave, and then lit the yellow paper that I had bought on fire. We all stood respectfully in front of the grave, and my grandfather asked us to bow one by one. When it was my turn, Grandpa asked me to bow while asking my wife to bless me with peace and safety so that I could go to college. I think my wife, who has been sleeping here for a long time, will be able to hear my heart.
By the time the ceremony was over, the sun was already setting. Everyone has to go back, probably because the mood is much lighter, their expression is no longer serious, but to talk and laugh with each other, I also looked up to appreciate the surrounding scenery, the field of wheat seedlings green. Rapeseed flowers golden golden, a big river from our side to the distance, the river water is crystal clear, from time to time there are a few small boat sailing past, the boat people, holding up the Penny, but also outstretched his hand to me to greet it! Soft willow branches fluttering in the wind, my aunt casually folded a willow woven into a hat to wear on my head, I instantly became a witty little red.
Tomb-sweeping is a traditional custom in China, which expresses our nostalgia for our ancestors, and at the same time is a wonderful opportunity for family reunion and enjoying the spring.
Essay 2:
"The rain falls one after another during the Qingming Festival, and the pedestrians on the road want to break their souls. I ask where the tavern is, the shepherd boy points to the apricot blossom village." Just like the famous poem of Du Mu, a great poet in Tang Dynasty, every year Qingming comes with drizzling rain, which always gives people a sad feeling.
No, the annual Qingming Festival has arrived with drizzle again.
The morning of this day, it is again a rich day, wandering for a while, feel extraordinarily sad, is still not suitable! Being dad pulled to eat breakfast, pick up incense and paper, carry a hoe to sweep the tomb.
Treading the thorns on the road, along the muddy path, we came to the old grandfather, grandmother's grave. After my dad got rid of the weeds around the grave, I put yellow paper on it, inserted incense and left.
After visiting the graves of many of our loved ones, we braved the drizzle and prepared to go to the graves of our grandparents. Along the way, flowers, grass, I do not care to appreciate; birds chirping, insects chirping, I do not care to listen, only focus on early to the grave. After a while, we arrived. Looking at the lonely grave, I couldn't help but feel sad. After my father finished hoeing and sticking the paper, we took out the paper money and knelt in front of the grave, spreading them all over the grave ......
The rain got heavier and heavier, the flowers and grasses were knocked to the ground, and the surrounding area was dead. This scene, make me a wave of longing feelings arise: think of their care for me in life, bring me joy, think of their dying will, I can not help but a burst of melancholy, burst into tears. At this time, my father was also in tears. The rain did not subside, we have cried into a tearful person, for a long time before standing up.
At this time, I saw the red azaleas in the distance. I heard my mom say that the azalea is also known as the Qingming flower, and it opens during the Qingming season because it is the best item to commemorate and appease the spirits of the dead. So I ran over and picked a few bunches and stuck them in front of my grandparents' graves in the hope that they would all be appeased ......
Year after year there is Ching Ming, and year after year there is a different kind of sorrow. This sorrow is not something that anyone can feel. I yearn for the sorrow in this rain, so I yearn for the visit of Qingming Festival!
Essay 3:
The Qingming Festival is a traditional festival in China, and this year it has become an official holiday in China, so it can be said that there is no Chinese who does not know about the Qingming Festival.
This year's Qingming Festival is special for me in two ways: First, my mom came back from Beijing to celebrate the festival this year. Secondly, this year we are not allowed to burn paper and incense on Qingming Festival because we are afraid of causing fire.
We went to the graves in the afternoon, and the road to the graves of Grandma and Grandpa was full of potholes and mud, and Grandpa and Grandma's graves were on the hill, so we had to take the small road, which was narrow and bad. At that time, it was still raining lightly, but it didn't take long before the rain cleared up. At that time, Grandpa and the others said that Grandpa and Grandma knew that we were going to come to see them, so they blessed us and let the sky not rain.
Not long after, we came to the graves of Grandma and Grandpa. In the grave around the weeds, deserted, as if to understand the mood of the people who come to visit the grave, deliberately make this scene, and there are many fallen on the ground withered trees, no vitality, dead, with the old days changed a lot. But not all have no vitality, in the mountains there are many of the red, like a happy smiling children, I think this may be the forefathers fear that we see their graves and feel sad to create in addition to the scene it! There are also many green saplings on the mountain and the weeds and dead trees in the mountain, which makes a beautiful landscape painting, which reminds me of the old saying "ten thousand trees spring before the sick tree". The view lightened our heavy mood.
"Let's start sweeping the graves!" I don't know who called out, waking me up who was mesmerized by the view of the mountains.
First, we cleaned up the weeds, gravel and dirt around the grave. But in fact it was Grandpa and Mom who did it, we all just watched and didn't do anything, and during the cleaning, we noticed that the small camphor tree in front of the grave had grown so much taller again. The camphor tree seemed to symbolize our family's growing taller.
Then, Grandpa dug the ditch behind the grave. It was a big surprise. It took more than a year for so much garbage to pile up, and it occurred to me that sweeping the graves was really indispensable, and if we didn't come to sweep the graves and clean up the garbage around the graves, then in a few years, the area around the graves wouldn't know how dirty it would be.
Next, Grandpa told me to press the yellow paper on the grave, but because I had my brother with me, Grandpa did it. Grandpa folded the yellow paper before pressing it on the grave, and then pressed a layer of mud on top of the yellow paper. I don't know why we need to press the yellow paper, probably because we are afraid that the yellow paper will be blown off by the wind! But why press it with mud? I think it may be a custom, or maybe because most of the mountain is dirt, it's easier to press it with dirt!
Finally, Grandpa put the yellow paper through the incense and inserted it on the grave, and then inserted a lot more in the same way as just now. Because this year is not allowed to burn paper, incense, can only be so. Grandpa, mom and auntie after they inserted, they bowed three times to this old grandpa and grandma. Next, my two brothers and I bowed. While we were bowing, Grandpa and them told us to speak, "Bless you will study, mom and dad earn good hide money ......." Zhongzhong (my uncle's son's nickname) and I bowed, only Xuanxuan (my own brother's nickname) refused to bow. We persuaded for a long time to no avail. Only my great aunt she was the saddest, she knelt indebtedly in front of the grave and wouldn't get up, her face full of tears, her hands gently caressing the tombstone. I wanted to go and pull her up, but I did not. Because I know that in that grave lies the grandmother who loved her the most. When that old man was alive, he poured his life's work into his aunt, teaching her to be a good person and learning knowledge. I stared at the tears on my aunt's face, tears of endless thoughts and memories of the old man. At this time, I clearly remember the big aunt after the "father's flowers fell" lesson, told us we must cherish the family love, once away from us when, can no longer be found.
I thought silently on the way back: what about the ancestors? You in heaven's spirit rest in peace! We, the children and grandchildren, will definitely make our homes more beautiful!
This year's Qingming Festival I have the most meaningful.
Essay 4:
Today is the Qingming Festival, I went back to my hometown with my family to sweep the graves.
My hometown is in Linwu County, Hunan Province. It was just hazy dawn when our family rushed to the countryside from the county town. Yesterday was a sunny, warm day, but today there was a sudden spring rain mixed with a gust of cool wind, making people feel the chill of early spring. Our car was shrouded in a curtain of rain, along the way, people and traffic intertwined, traveling became very difficult, could it be that it really deserved the old saying, "Rain pours on the Qingming Festival, and the pedestrians on the road want to break their souls." It is possible that the weather is deliberately arranged so that people can worship their ancestors and remember their deceased relatives in a sad and solemn atmosphere.
When we came to the countryside, the rain was a little less, and we started walking up the hill. Along the way, Grandpa was occasionally greeting passers-by who seemed to have known him before, perhaps they were his childhood playmates? But I was attracted by the roadside scenery: red brick houses, wagging tails of the family dog, the well side of the rubbing clothes of the peasant woman, which I have never seen in the city. And the lush green bamboo, the brightly colored red, and the neatly organized ridges of the fields all add up to a vivid picture of a farmhouse landscape.
Finally, we came to the cemetery, and the family took out the money, offerings, and candles that had been prepared for the cemetery, while working together to remove the weeds around the cemetery, and to level the loose soil in front of and behind the tombstones. After all the preparations, then, Grandpa asked us to bow three times in front of the grave and make our own wishes. I guess I'll just wish my grandparents good health, my mom and dad good luck at work, and I'll wish myself success in my studies. "Cracking ......" Dad lit the firecrackers from the sidelines. In the rising smoke and the sound of firecrackers, we ended today's tomb-sweeping activities.
Walking down the hill, the rain got heavier and heavier. I suddenly realized that my grandfather's face was full of sadness, I think he was thinking of his deceased relatives. None of us could bear to disturb him. We all became silent. The road down the mountain became slippery due to the rain. Grandpa suddenly stumbled as if he was going to slip and fall, and my father quickly grabbed his arm. Grandpa, on the other hand, habitually took me by the hand and clutched my hand tightly in his own. A warm current surged in my heart. I knew that my grandfather loved me more than himself. Grandpa looked a little old in the rain and fog, but his love for his loved ones and for us was so clear. At this moment, I seemed to be able to understand his feelings of y missing his deceased. I also understood his intention of leading us to visit the graves. Thinking about this, my eyes became moist. I said to Grandpa, "Don't worry, I'll be careful myself." After saying that, I skimmed my face, pulled my grandfather's hand tightly, and walked towards the bottom of the mountain ......
Essay 5:The Origin of Qingming Festival
The traditional Qingming Festival in China began around the Zhou Dynasty, and it has a history of more than two thousand five hundred years. Qingming is a very important festival in the beginning, Qingming, the temperature rises, it is a good time for spring plowing and planting, so there is "before and after the Qingming, planting melons and beans". "Tree planting, no more than the Qingming" proverbs. Later, due to the Qingming and cold food days close, and cold food is the folk ban on fire sweeping the day, gradually, cold food and Qingming into one, and cold food has become the alias of Qingming, but also become a custom for the Qingming festival, Qingming day does not move fireworks, only eat cold food.
On the cold food, there is such a legend:
According to legend, during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States Periods, the consort of Duke Xian of Jin, Li Ji, in order to let her son Xi Qi succeeded to the throne, set up poisonous plots to kill the Prince Shen Sheng, who was forced to commit suicide. Shen Sheng's younger brother, Chong Er, went into exile to escape the disaster. While in exile, Chong Er suffered a lot of humiliation. Most of the ministers who followed him went their own way one after another. There were only a few loyal men left who followed him all the way. One of them was called Jie Zi Tui (介子推). Once, Chong Er passed out from hunger. In order to save Chong Er, Jie Zi Pui cut off a piece of meat from his own leg, cooked it over a fire and gave it to Chong Er to eat. Nineteen years later, Chong Er returned to his country and became the ruler, Duke Wen of Jin, one of the famous Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn Period.
When Duke Wen of Jin came to power, he rewarded those who had suffered with him, but he forgot about Jie Zi Tui. Some people complained for Jie Zi Tui in front of Duke Wen of Jin. Duke Wen of Jin suddenly remembered the old story, the heart of shame, and immediately sent to ask mesoteric push on the court to be rewarded by the official. However, after several trips, Jie Zi Tui did not come. Duke Wen of Jin had to go in person to invite. However, when Duke Wen came to Jie Zi Tui's house, he saw that the door was closed. Jie Zi Tui didn't want to see him, and had already carried his mother to hide in Mianshan Mountain (southeast of present-day Jiexiu County, Shanxi Province). The Duke of Jin then sent his imperial army up to Mianshan to search for him, but they did not find him. So, someone came up with an idea, saying that it would be better to set fire to the mountain, lighting fires on three sides and leaving one side behind, so that when the fire started, Jie Zi Tui would come out on his own. Duke Wen of Jin ordered the fire to burn the mountain, but the fire burned for three days and three nights, after the fire was extinguished, did not see Kai Zi push out. Up the mountain to see, jiezi push mother and son holding a big charred willow tree has died. Duke Wen of Jin looked at the body of the mesquite push to cry and worship for a while, and then buried the remains, and found that the mesquite push spine blocked a willow tree hole, the hole seems to have something.
Cutting out his flesh and serving the king, he wished that his lord would always be clear.
It is better to be a ghost under the willow than to be an advisor to the king.
If you have me in your heart, you will always think of yourself when you remember me.
If I am not ashamed of myself in the nine springs, I will be diligent and clear in my administration.
Duke Wen of Jin hid the bloody book in his sleeve. Then he buried Jie Zi Tui and his mother under the charred willow tree. To honor Jie Zi Tui, Duke Wen of Jin ordered that Mian Shan be changed to "Jie Shan", built a shrine on the mountain, and designated the day the mountain was set on fire as the Cold Food Festival, telling the whole country to abstain from fireworks and to eat only cold food on that day every year.
When he left, he cut down a section of burnt willow wood and made a pair of wooden clogs in the palace, looking at them every day and sighing, "Woe is the foot." "This is said to have been the origin of the ancient term of respect used by subordinates for their superiors or peers.
The next year, the Duke of Jin led a group of ministers on a hike in plain clothes to pay homage and express their condolences. When he arrived at the grave, he saw the old willow tree come back to life, with thousands of green branches dancing in the wind. Duke Wen of Jin looked at the resurrected old willow tree and saw it as if he had seen Jie Zi Tui. He went to it respectfully, pinched a branch and wove a circle on his head. After the ceremony, the Duke of Jin gave the name "Qingming Willow" to the resurrected old willow tree, and designated this day as the Qingming Festival.
Afterward, Duke Wen of Jin often put the bloody book on his side, as a motto to spur himself to rule. He was diligent and clear, and he managed the country well.
Since then, the people of Jin have been able to live and work in peace and contentment, and they miss Jie Zi Tui very much. On the day of his death, people banned fireworks to commemorate him. Also with flour and jujube clay, kneaded into the swallow, with willow string up, inserted in the door, to summon his soul, this thing is called "the push of the swallow" (jiezitui also known as jiezhitui). Since then, the cold food and Qingming became the grand festivals of the people all over the country. Whenever cold food is served, people do not make fire to cook and only eat cold food. In the north, the people only eat pre-made cold food such as jujube cake, wheat cake, etc.; in the south, it is mostly green dumplings and glutinous rice candy root. Every Qingming, people weave willow into a circle and wear it on their heads, and stick willow branches in front of and behind their houses to show their remembrance.
Responders: Aya Xi Yi - Grade 4 2010-4-3 13:00
The prosecution Qingming Festival, is our Chinese people worship predecessors, remember the martyrs of the traditional days. Today, with a heavy step, with a heavy heart, we came to Weihai Martyrs' Mausoleum, to pay tribute to the liberation of the Chinese nation, for the people's happiness and heroically sacrificed revolutionary martyrs.
In the era of war, in the bloody and hard times, countless revolutionary martyrs in order to build a new China, in order to the liberation of the Chinese people, the front and back, throwing their heads, spilling blood, with the righteousness and lofty ideals, composed an exciting and immortal chapter, sculpted a majestic monument. The heroic deeds of the martyrs will be the sons and daughters of the Yellow Emperor, the sons and daughters of China, from generation to generation, the revolutionary martyrs will always live in our hearts.
The martyrs should look back with a smile, the flag has its own later. Youth is the future of the motherland, we know that the martyrs with their lives and blood watered the fertile soil of China, decorated the spring of China, we will cherish the present good life, step in the footsteps of the revolutionary forefathers, inherited the will of the martyrs, the martyrs as an example, and carry on with their own enthusiasm, their own blood and sweat, their own talent, so that the flag is more red, five stars shine more brightly, the motherland of our construction to a more prosperous and strong. prosperous and strong.
Yesterday was the second day of the Qingming Festival and a day for dust sweeping. I, my brother, my father and my mother went to my grandmother's house in the countryside to prepare for a hiking trip together to sweep the dust.
"It's raining at the time of Qingming." Yesterday it was drizzling, and we had nothing to say but to step on the muddy mountain soil and climb upward step by step.
Finally, we arrived at the grave of the grandfather, the grandmother and the little grandfather, all of us were in awe, standing upright in front of their graves. Dad handed me a burning incense, incense in from time to time out of the smoke, the fragrance is so strong, so that I smelled this kind of fragrance, immediately show a look of frustration, but also sad appearance. All of us held the incense in our hands and bowed ninety degrees for our grandfather, grandmother and little grandpa in the "nine springs" to show our respect for all of them.
I turned around and picked up a basket of flowers that I had already prepared, and respectfully placed it in front of the graves of Grandpa, Grandma and Little Grandpa. The flowers in the basket were all white, and there were a few white bands tied dead center on the flowers and the basket. Against the backdrop of a few green leaves, it looked even more solemn and dignified.
After we worshiped, we began to give in the "nine springs" of the great-grandfather, great-grandmother and little grandpa burned in the netherworld of the banknotes, Dad knows they are very good at playing mahjong, burned some more to them, there are one hundred million, there are two hundred million, there are one million big banknotes, but also said to them: "everyone has don't grab. " I heard also fun, they have so much money a year also can not spend, but also with the robbery what it?
Too old, too old and small grandpa you "go" so early, I have not properly filial piety filial piety to your old man, you left my side, where, accompanied by you only lonely and lonely, not ...... not ...... not ...... there is that "merciless" spring, summer, fall, winter and lush green mountains. If you are still here I will definitely honor you.
When we were leaving, we paid our respects to them again before leaving.