In daily study, work or life, many people have written essays, right, essays can be divided into elementary school essays, secondary school essays, college essays (papers). Then the general essay is how to write it? The following is my help to organize the scenery in the memory of the composition, only for reference, we take a look at it.
The landscape in memory essay 1
Old memories are like a window, pushed open and then difficult to close. The scenery in the memory is the first breeze that comes to your face.
Xiting at sunset
A wonderful woman with an orchid boat, canoeing on the lake, slightly moving ripples. I don't know whether she is drunk or the sunset is drunk, their faces are slightly red. She drowsily into the depths of the lotus root flowers, and startled a puddle of herons, flying in fear. This scene is the scenery in my memory, but also the perfect scenery in Li Qingzhao's memory. After all, she is gone, only this poem to stay in memory, to commemorate her once, let her become the scenery in my heart.
Drinking alone among the flowers
See a man, under the moon, among the flowers, dancing sword chopping flowers, it seems to be to cut off the hatred and suffering of the world, but then suddenly stopped, raised his cup, invited the moon, and shadow three people **** discretion. At this time, who can see his other side? So lonely, but want to be dashing. Only he understood the "ancient sages are lonely, only the drinker to leave his name" and only he knows, talk about wine, to forget the dust. He lived into a state of mind, but also lived into the beautiful scenery of my heart.
Snow outside the window
Outside the window, the goose feather snow falling, is "sprinkle salt in the air poorly comparable", or "not like the willow flakes due to the wind"? Look at Xie Daosanna chanting snow like flakes, flying in the wind, such a talented woman once in a hundred years, she looked at the snow scene is the scenery in my memory.
Bamboo poles and shoes
Hear, through the forest hit the sound of leaves, why not, chanting and walking slowly? "The first thing you need to do is to get a good look at the other side of the fence, and you'll be able to see what's going on in the background. Because you have a bamboo stick and shoes, but also a straw raincoat. Who is afraid? Perhaps your optimism evokes the sun, when you look back at the place of depression, there is no wind and rain and no sunshine. Although the sky is not clear, my memory of you is a clear sky, because you are the most beautiful scenery in my memory.
The scenery in my memory is not too beautiful, it's good to have aura; the scenery in my memory is not too lively, it's good to have poetry; the scenery in my memory is not too beautiful, it's good to have you, regardless of the snow and rain. The scenery in the memory is you at that time.
The scenery in the memory of the composition 2
When your figure is no longer tall? When did you become so weak? The memory of you is so bright, rough big hand had lifted me high, dark face a pair of small eyes shining, childhood has been around you, your love for me let me once released. Little me closely behind you, listening to you and other old people talking and laughing, with a hand touching my head, full of favor.
When did your figure become stooped? When did your eyes no longer have a god? The memory of how capable you are, I was once surprised at how you carry a bag of rice on your shoulders, and then have to walk so long way back to the home, unloading the bag of rice on your shoulders, can not see you have the slightest complaint, only the bright beads of sweat on your forehead glittering with the light.
The early years may be somewhat forgotten, but you left in my heart is an important lesson in growth. And my sister argued, I sat on the side of the gas straight to tears, is that you said in the side of the rambling "patience, patience, a minute of patience a minute of blessings.
Grandma's departure, but have not seen you have the slightest sadness. Instead of comforting us, I can hardly imagine what great pain you are carrying in your heart. But now you, how the face more and more haggard, the spine more and more curved, often see you sitting alone at the table in silence, always let me have how heartbreaking, you also old? The time, slow down a little bit!
Leaves hovering in the air, composing a song of gratitude, that is the tree to nourish it the gratitude of the earth; white clouds in the azure sky floating, painting that a touching picture, that is the white clouds to feed it the gratitude of the blue sky. The scenery remaining in my memory makes me also unconsciously know how to love you. This time, I will definitely hold your arm tightly, so that your figure is no longer lonely.
The tree wants to be quiet but the wind does not stop, the child wants to raise but the parent is not there.
The landscape of memory essay 3I remember when I was a child, those places around the home, now are gone, next May, even the home is to be demolished, but also clearly remember that there is a lotus root pool, that there is also a rape field, which has a small river, which has a piece of the orchard ......
When I was a child, and my buddies went down to the river together to Play, the water is nothing more than to my head and neck, but the further south the deeper, sometimes also in the creek to catch fish, then caught a fish, don't mention how happy, at night there are fish to eat, the water is very clean ......
When I was a child, thirsty, I went to the orchard to pick an apple, it was called a crunchy ah, idly lie down under the bottom of the beautiful sleep. Or watch the birds in the sky. At that time, my friends and I often take a slingshot to hit the sparrow, because the sparrow is not much good, and can and we grab apples to eat, so we take a slingshot to hit them, if hit a sparrow, sure to show off to the little ones, we will not be willing to show off, almost to 5 o'clock can be hit to 1, 2 sparrows [hit the bird is just a game].
When I was a kid, if I was in a bad mood, I would go to the rape field, where the scenery was pleasing to the eye, and the mood could be calmed down for a while. Sometimes also play hide-and-seek with small friends in the rape field, that is called a difficult to find ah, but, if the hide people move too much, it will be very obvious, because the rape will move a little ...... lying on the rape flowers to sleep, that feeling is also very cool, more comfortable than the bed at home, if adults can not find us, then most of us are in the rape field.
When I was a kid, we didn't even have to buy lotus root, directly from the lotus root pool to get some lotus root home, pure natural, without preservatives, and any processed products! As long as I carried more water, I could earn more money so that I could buy food ......
But now, all these activities are gone, replaced by factories, roads, schools, houses ......
These have become my memories of a landscape!
The landscape in my memory essay 4Light is like an arrow, the sun and the moon are like a shuttle. The only thing that remains unchanged is those beautiful memories that build a splendid landscape in the heart.
--Title
His love, not the majestic generosity of the epic; not the wind swept the sea surge magnificent. Instead, it is like a spring rain, moist and silent.
When I was 5 years old, he was 67 years old. Although he was already in his prime, he was still defiantly like a big boy. I was the happiest I've ever been, but it was to go to the market with him. He walked in front, I walked behind, he carried his hands on his back, I also learned to carry his hands on his back. At that time, the thickest and warmest thing in the world was his upright back. In the summer, the blinding sunlight can not penetrate; winter, the bone-chilling cold wind can not scrape over.
Day by day very rhythmic, time a little bit to steal his young, moisturizing me to grow.
Now I, 14 years old, he 76 years old. I began to hate the sound of his shoes and ground friction giggling, began to hate him to say a non-stop nagging sound. And never realized that he was getting old, since then. A few weeks ago, the spring rain, although the spring rain is as expensive as oil, but in the end of the school under the intention = a nasty thing. Just when I was about to arrive home, a familiar back into my sight. It was him! Seeing me, he walked towards me and said, "You left your book behind yesterday, I'll bring it to you!" Saying that, he handed over a plastic bag. The rain dripped down his hair, he wiped the water on the plastic bag with his hand, smiled and said, "Just go." My sentence to sit at home never came out. In the spring rain, he gradually far away from the back is no longer upright, he really old.
The landscape in memory essay 5
My classmates say I am very nostalgic, and I think so. When I am alone, I often daze, and when I daze, I will remember a lot of things in the past ......
I remember that the first time I took part in a group activity was the last tour in primary school-graduation summer camp. On that day, all the students arrived, sitting on the bus, no one was excited about it. On the contrary, everyone had a little sadness, after all, it means that our friendship will be in this period of time, forever fixed. We can't let go of each other, especially our best friends. I don't know if it's because of God's willful arrangement or because we don't have enough understanding to discuss and choose a good school (all the best friends won't be in the same school).
When we got off the bus, we first went to see the acrobatic show, which didn't interest us at all. Instead, the laughter and cheers of the other grades added to our sadness. We were left to our own devices. We talked to each other, ignoring the teacher's stop, and the teacher seemed to be much more benevolent than before, seeing that we did not pay attention to, then let us talk freely. Old Man Time was very overbearing, and every time we cherished it, it passed by very quickly, and before we knew it, the class was told to get on the bus and head to the next attraction. We lined up to get on the car at a speed never seen before, completely without half a sound, but just got on the car, we were scrambling to talk about open, and everything outside the window head became extraordinarily quiet, even in the summer the most active cicadas seem to be touched by our friendship and stopped chirping.
After arriving at the next attraction, our class stayed on the bus, sharing lunch and exchanging contact information or writing each other's classmates' memoirs, until we had "recorded" the characteristics of each classmate in detail.
In the blink of an eye, time flies, and I've spent nearly two and a half years in middle school, and I only know a little bit about my former classmates. My friends ah, how are you?
The landscape of memory essay 6That piece of new green, as if to see it again. Every time I look back, the corners of my mouth can not help but spread a smile.
"Hoo _____", a long sigh. Hand in the paper, the heart is still not a taste. As if a little bit of unfulfilled feeling, but that is false.
In the evening, tucked into the dense stars, let the tears mercilessly wash my face. Hanging my head on the road home, as if everything around me has been hidden, looking up at the sky, gray, the sound of the siren, making me more annoyed, the human shadow under the street lamp whip long, become shorter, become longer, become shorter ......
Still walking alone and silently, passing by the field, glimpsed that a little bit of new green, vibrant! But underneath it was a field of blackened wheat stalks. Now it's a little bit like "wildfire can't be eliminated, the spring breeze blows again." I think it's a little bit of a "wildfire can't be burned, the spring breeze blows again. Through the field, walking on the main road, although I was very reluctant.
After a few mouthfuls of food, I fell into bed and stared at the waning moon, a little disoriented.
......
I memorized an old poem as if nothing had happened: "When will the moon come out? I don't know what year it is in the heavenly palace. I want to go back by the wind, but I'm afraid that the agate tower is too high to be cold, but I wish that people will be long, thousands of miles **** Canyuan Juan."
Early in the morning, a beam of bright light smashed on my body, I rubbed my sleepy eyes.
Stepping on the silky fish-belly white, faithfully go to school. I crossed the road and came back to the field. Ah! There is that new green again, it seems to suggest something, what is it? Oh! I get it!
From that day on, I forgot my previous unhappiness and turned my grief into motivation. That a new green, simple but eternal; that a new green, lingering but long; that a new green, fuzzy but clear and clear. That piece of new green, stay in my heart the most beautiful scenery!
The landscape in my memory essay 7Coincidentally, I was in my first year this year. My mom is a teacher, and I happen to be in the same school. A few days ago, she led all the students in the first year to learn to dance the square dance "Little Apple". She taught on stage and we learned off stage. Her voice was loud, clear and sweet. Our movements are coordinated, elastic, and full of youthful vigor.
I am a boarding student, due to the tension of study, often six forty in the morning to get up. Because we start reading early at seven o'clock, so I often have not eaten, and went straight to the classroom. My attentive mom soon found out that I didn't eat breakfast. One day, the first class had just ended. A few of my classmates then told me that my mom was outside the door.
My mom was outside the door? What was she doing outside the door? With questions in mind, I walked out of the classroom and saw something in my mom's hand. She was covering the mouth of the cup with one hand. What was in the cup? I was even more puzzled. As I approached, I heard her say, "Why don't you go to breakfast? Are you hungry? This is soy milk. I didn't have class just now, so I warmed it up for you." That was my heart, no need to guess also know that at that time must be very touched.
A week ago or so, I was eating. Looking at a table of delicious food, I said to my mom, "Is there any fruit, durian there?" "No." I was a little lost. The next day I had forgotten about it. I was burying my head in my homework when suddenly there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and there was a man with a bag in his hand. I was puzzled when my mom came. She said, "Mine, mine!" She brought the bag to the table. Said to me, "Look, this is the durian you are going to eat." I was instantly touched.
You are the person I know best, you are the most precious person to me; you are my confidant, you are my lifelong friend. You are the most beautiful scenery in my memory; you are my mom, beautiful as a wonderful rainbow.
In my heart, there has always been such a landscape - it does not have the cool majesty of the desert, nor the soft elegance of small bridges and flowing water, and even less mirage of the marvelous magnificence, but in my heart, it is the most cozy and touching landscape!
I remember when I was a child, I was a very lazy child, in addition to learning, eating, drinking and sleeping, there seems to be nothing else. Unlike my mom, who worked during the day and did housework at night, I only had a few moments of relief on weekends. So, naturally, the free time I sometimes help mom do some work!
Kindergarten, my life is full of laughter everywhere. Toys, books, classmates ...... are my fun companions. I am not happy to play in this garden, but forget, is my mother, sent me into this paradise, let me get pleasure from it, and share the joy with others! Finally, after a few years of anticipation, I became an elementary school student. When I was practicing "a, o, e" pinyin in my room, when I was calculating "10+20" on the dining table, and when I was reading aloud in the living room, it was my mom who handed me a cup of tea when I was thirsty, who solved the problems with me when I encountered them, and who shared my happiness with others. Together with the solution; is mom, in my recitation when the wall to give me encouragement, comfort ...... and I, but I have always thought that this is as a mother's obligation, and ignored the mother's hurried back, the tired body, the pale smile, the wrinkles at the corners of the eyes of tired ... ...
Now, I am a middle school student, the burden on my shoulders is heavy. After a few years, I finally realized the deep love of my mother. And I have understood, and know that I should help my mother to share some ...... However, my mother is still often busy for me this and that, and I, in my dreams, have dreamed a few times of my mother's hurried but clear back, the old but not lacking in flexibility.
Mom! You are the pink peach blossom in my heart, the kind of fragrance that makes me happy; you are the fresh lotus in my heart, the kind of posture that makes me refreshed; you are the frosty chrysanthemum in my heart, the kind of vitality that makes me respect; you are the upright plum blossom in my heart, the kind of perseverance that makes me marveled.
Mom, no matter what you do, you are the brightest scenery in my heart!
The landscape in my memory essay 9
When it comes to green, maybe you will think of the grassland of "the wind blowing the grass to see the cows and sheep"; you will think of the lotus pond of "endless blue lotus leaves"; you will think of the "golden willow by the river". "...... But, I still like my memory of the landscape - climbers. Regardless of the season to view, it has a mesmerizing charm.
Spring creeper is bright green, leaf veins are not yet very clear, the leaves are not big, although it can not be spread over the entire promenade, but has long been full of aura. After a spring rain, they are like a group of naughty children, the crystal clear glass in the palm of their own hands constantly rolling around, treating every drop of water beads are fond of. On a sunny day if you stroll under the green promenade, the sunlight will pass through between the sparse leaves and hit you with glittering dapples, giving you an instant sense of glory of being on stage.
In the hot summer, the leaf veins of the creeper are symmetrical and clear on the leaves that have become palm-shaped. Once the wind picks up, the leaves are swept up in waves, as if a turbulent waterfall coaxed down from the air. When the heat is unbearable, it can calm our hearts, no matter how annoying, as soon as you see him, the heart, will be quiet.
It is said that the autumn wind is relentless, she is like a failed colorist, the original bright colors painted out of shape. However, in my heart, the creeper has not reduced that vigorous vitality. An autumn wind swept, the leaves of the creeper is like a colorful butterfly, laughing, yelling, dancing and spinning down. Although they have dried up, but each of them is full of poetry, written with the breath of life that once had.
The cold winds of the winter, the creeper like a weathered old man, sinewy stumps remain on the promenade. The departure of the leaf is inevitable, but I know that as long as the roots exist in the stem, even in the snow and ice, it will still quietly nurture the green tomorrow.
The dream woke up, but I'm still immersed in the memory of the landscape, the landscape, still in my heart to carry out the cycle of the seasons ......
Memory of the landscape essay 10Accompanied by the cold wind, pale face powerless to resist the cold, hands tightly in the pants pockets, I followed my parents walking. Suddenly an ordinary intersection ahead attracted me. I walked straight past, as if there was a familiar music echoing in my ears
It was also a cold winter, I wrapped a thick coat, hurrying in the direction of home, but when I walked through an intersection, a melodious sound of the piano attracted me, I couldn't help but search in the direction of the sound of the piano, and into my eyes is a half a hundred years old, he is in rags, dressed in a worn out cotton jacket sitting on the ground. cotton jacket sitting cross-legged on the ground, and in front of him lay an equally shabby bowl with some woolen tickets and coins in it; his behavior and clothing showed his identity?he was a beggar. He kept fiddling with the lyre in his hand with his cracked hand, in fact it was very that said lyre, it was just a few strings tied to a big flat wooden stick. But he didn't care, he closed his eyes, forgetting to play. And the melodious sound of the piano in his playing fingertips flow out, I have never heard this melody, perhaps I have not heard, or perhaps it is just his randomly made up, or perhaps ......, but what about it, I listen to the sound of the piano, intoxicated in which, for a time to forget the cold, and so quietly stood, around the people one by one from my I am not a person who pays attention to music. I'm not a person who pays attention to music, or even a tone deaf, but I just think the sound of the piano is good, simply good, I look at the old man, I can not help but respect, I realized that he is playing with his heart, he wrote the music of life.
"What are you doing, why don't you leave?" , suddenly my mother's shout pulled me from the memories will come, I found my parents have long been waiting for me in front.
"O, coming." I ran towards the front, where the sound of the spooky piano seemed to still be playing.