The night in the town is getting darker, and the coolness is beginning to show. The town that has been bustling all day has returned to calm. Coupled with occasional power outages, the town is even darker, returning to its original appearance, more or less like the sunrise. Create a breathtaking flavor as the day progresses. Below is a beautiful prose description of a small town in the south of the Yangtze River that I brought to you for your enjoyment.
Beautiful prose describing a small town in Jiangnan: A small town in Jiangnan
When I am lonely, I want to run away, but I don’t know where to go. Only when you are alone can you understand how nihilistic and lonely a person is, just like a cup of water that does not want to be replaced by tea leaves.
Put away the phone, took the keys, and drove out of the small town? It was like avoiding an angry dean, they were all strict, weren’t they? The day was a bit hot, but the golden wind carried the fragrance of rapeseed. To dissipate the heat in your heart, she is often gentler than air conditioning and more like your girlfriend. At this moment, I realized that my latitude and longitude on the earth are still there.
Some people say that the mellow piano music goes well with the dark Jiangnan town, but this is completely nonsense. Only the yelling and scolding of small town women and the noisy cicadas in the afternoon will match her. If I say this is the sound of the piano, I'm afraid Boya won't let me go.
The traffic control here is not strict, so I stopped the car on this street. I didn't know where to go, so I walked down the path and walked step by step into this small town with fine tiles and green walls, green hills and clear water, and red lotuses and white lotus roots. To be precise, the houses where people live are made of cement, and some are not pink - with exposed red bricks. But the small house where firewood is piled here has a flat roof and is all red. The small house contains firewood that will be used this year? Zongzi for the Dragon Boat Festival, steamed buns for seasonal changes, black rice for summer, and dumplings and wontons for the end of the year. It was they who fed me during my plump childhood, but unfortunately all I learned was to eat. ?Lanzi. ?I turned around and it turned out to be my aunt. ?Come back to see grandma, eh!? I replied subconsciously, and was stunned again. ?I don’t know how my baby is doing. Why. ?I didn’t dare to answer the question, my aunt said, ?Go quickly, grandma is waiting impatiently. ?
I had no choice but to walk home. If I didn’t go, grandma would be angry. It should be considered a surprise. The houses on both sides squeezed out a winding path. Here, I crossed my grandfather's lap and went home, and was chased by a broom. In my memory, they were all laughing, watching me laugh, haha, it was so funny. When my hand slides across the wall, it feels a little itchy, a little painful, and has a scratchy texture, which is more tactile than my tiled wall. Haha, the little red house hasn’t been demolished yet, I wonder if I can still climb it. If it falls again this time, will my aunt hold her belly and apologize to grandma? I'm sorry, aunt, my house is not strong and the basket fell, and I sat there in a daze, and it took me a long time to cry. I was afraid I would be scolded if I went up to him again, so I reluctantly touched him. It was a little crispy and he was almost ready to eat. The wind is rustling, is he like me? He was once naughty and familiar with every street, but now he has learned to be gentle. It's just that he would suddenly roll up a few leaves and run away whistling, just like teasing me to chase the leaves in his hand. At the next corner, I saw my grandma wearing a plaid cloth. I felt puzzled and ran over. ?Grandma? What are you doing? I am Zhangzhang, have you come? I think it’s time for you to come. ?Oh? Your waist is thicker. ?Um. ?......
Maybe it was the phone call a few days ago. Although I didn't say anything, she still knew that I would and would return to this small town in the south of the Yangtze River.
When people get tired, they miss this small town in the south of the Yangtze River. Every flower, tree, soil, and person here pays attention to your existence. Although you will forget her in your wandering, she is a kind of blood. , you are the one who has always protected you like this.
Beautiful prose describing a small town in the south of the Yangtze River: Yulian Town
So fast! Autumn is here again, when the autumn wind stirs up the wheat waves, and when the autumn rain wets the sycamore trees.
The autumn rain is pattering. It is not as sad as the spring rain, not as fiery as the summer rain, and not as cold as the winter rain. It only has that sentimental feeling.
The bean-like raindrops fell gently on my face. If they accumulated too much, they would streak across my face, giving me a cool feeling. The cool rain wiped away the fatigue on my face, reminding me of that autumn, with the smoke curling from the kitchen stove and the fragrance of the sweet-scented osmanthus.
My hometown is located near the Jiangnan area. The climate is hot and humid. When autumn comes, it starts to rain lightly, adding a sense of coolness. The cool autumn of the town continues the prosperity of the past. The fragrance of osmanthus drifts from nowhere and is soaked in the cool autumn rain, adding a lot of poetic tranquility.
The streets paved with bluestones have been polished by the footsteps of generations, and appear smooth and green in the rain. Amidst the ups and downs, they remember the childhood fun and thousand-year feelings of generations. Rows of shops, blue-grey tiles, and white walls reflect thousands of years of vicissitudes.
When I was a child, during this season, my favorite thing was to lie on the small window and touch the cool rain with my hands. My mother always likes to sit in front of the door and make rice paste. ?In July and a half, a meal of sugar and powder is given. ?On the half of the seventh month of the lunar calendar, the weather is getting colder. In order to save time doing farm work, people don’t eat hot food as much. So when this season comes, my mother will make rice milk, prepare red beans, brown sugar, etc. to make candies. First, swell the rice, grind it into a slurry with water, add brown sugar and mix evenly, scoop it into the cooking curtain and cook until cooked, then sprinkle some red beans on top, boil the pot, wait for it to cool, and then use a knife to cut it into any shape. When you want to eat, just wrap it in a lotus leaf. The light fragrance and the fragrance of rice will whet your appetite. I always pick up a piece of candy, sit on the threshold, and savor its sweetness and delicateness.
The cool raindrops fell softly, wetting the parasol trees in the courtyard and intoxicating the green plantains. The mist in the air made the kitten huddle up next to the door in shock. The cobblestone-covered streamside was washed away spotlessly, and the slightly rippling lake surface moistened people's hearts. The small stone arch bridge that has stood for many years is stained with the light ink sky, giving it a warm feeling. Looking at the small town from the hillside, the bridges and streets are connected, and the blue bricks and blue tiles have given birth to so much loneliness and prosperity, and isolated so much mundane fireworks.
When I was a child, I loved holding an oil-paper umbrella, like a resentful lilac girl, walking on the quiet bluestone path, listening to the crisp sound of rain and smelling the fragrance that penetrated in the rain. Osmanthus scent. The breeze blew the dreamy drizzle and lifted the hair around my ears. The water droplets dripping from the eaves hit the puddles on the ground, "ding ding dong dong", which is quite a feeling.
The rain became heavier and heavier, blurring my eyes and pulling me back from being immersed in the quiet town. In the blink of an eye, time is no match for time.
The quiet town lies in the delicate autumn rain. The soft autumn rain washes the quaint and quiet town. The footsteps on the bluestone echo the incomplete autumn.
Beautiful prose describing a small town in Jiangnan: Jiangnan Town
The night in the small town is quiet and peaceful, lying in the gentle embrace of the town for a night of infatuation.
The morning bell has lasted for thousands of years and has lasted from ancient times to the present. The songs of the birds are melodious and melodious, the fragrance of the lotus is light and refreshing, filling the heart. The flowers in the small garden are busy killing the bees collecting honey, and the butterflies who are in love with the flowers are in a hurry, dancing and flying in a hurry.
The peaches and plums bear fruit, the flowers are crushed into mud, and the charm of spring has been lightly trampled by the horse's hooves in light summer. There is only the stream next to the house, day and night. A curve of blue and green lies under the shade of green willows, telling the story of the sadness, loneliness, and loneliness that come with the return of flowers.
The cool summer in the small town slowly continues its ancient prosperity. The shops facing the street, the street on the water, and the busy people in the bargaining of buying and selling are just like the years of life and reproduction. There is less poetic tranquility and more noisy market.
The streets of the small town are three steps wide and built along the water. The corners have railings along the water. The bluestone road in the center of the street has been polished by the footsteps of many people for thousands of years. In every gust of wind and every gust of rain, I remember so many interesting childhood stories, poems and letters; I remember so many thousand-year feelings, attachments and relationships; I remember so many sunsets and loneliness. Row upon row of shops, there are many bricks and tiles from Qin and Han Dynasties piled up on the front edge, which has given birth to many changes in current affairs, loneliness and prosperity, and carries many poems and books passed down from family to family, weddings and funerals.
The time in the small town flows like water day by day, flipping through it with the winds of spring, summer, autumn and winter, and following the passing years, this thousands of feet of mortal dust is dried into the legend of the years.
It’s rare to have half a day’s leisure in a floating life. When you wake up in the afternoon, there is drizzle falling, and the young girl in her twenties lifts her shirt lightly and floats in front of you. The rain in Jiangnan! I don’t know where you come from, kissing the rivers and mountains in the distance; kissing the nearby farms and fields; kissing the thousand-year-old bluestone slabs in the old streets. Walking into the stream calmly beside the stone bridge that has stood for thousands of years, the appearance of the small town was washed away, making the young woman out of the bath spotless, rich and bright.
Take a floral paper umbrella lightly and walk by the lake covered with goose eggs. The green lotus leaves in that pool overlap one another; the clear water in that pool is sparkling; the lotus flowers in that pool are clear and light. The willows dancing along the embankment are accompanied by the gentle breeze and drizzle. The wind blows the years, and the rain moistens the heart.
Drifting in the long river of time, we meet not yesterday, not tomorrow, but today.
Bringing a tranquil feeling, a peaceful heart, a puddle of cool rainwater, and a scent of flower stamens, leave behind the busyness in the lonely world and watch the pink lotus blossom. Listening to the natural sounds of the gentle breeze and drizzle brings back the feeling of indifference and tranquility. There is nothing in the world that can be more peaceful and peaceful than this moment.
Two plates of ancient town side dishes that have been passed down for eternity, opened the wine that had been dusted for thousands of years, and sat by the window. Oil-paper umbrellas in twos and threes casually conveyed the passing years in the rain in the alley.
Drunk? This drunkenness has missed the ancient and modern battles; this drunkenness has missed the flowers in the Tang Dynasty and Song Dynasty; this drunkenness has missed the lotus fragrance from the south of the Yangtze River in the gentle breeze and drizzle; This drunkenness misses the pen and ink paper at the end of the library; this drunkenness misses the past that has been sealed for thousands of years; this drunkenness will miss the eternal fragrance behind it.
On a misty and drizzly night, I once again lay in the gentle embrace of the town.
Essays describing small towns in the south of the Yangtze River:
1. Prose about the water towns in the south of the Yangtze River
2. Classic prose describing the characteristics of the south of the Yangtze River
3. Appreciation of exquisite essays about ancient towns
4. Essays about the beautiful scenery of Jiangnan
5. Beautiful essays about Jiangnan