Life is like a dream, this one, why not grasp the time now is in the youth, you can now have how many more blazing summer? --Title
The old bridge by the big camphor tree, now has been accompanied by three generations of our growth, that tree hole, I do not know how many childhood wishes hidden, I do not know when it will be filled with those small wishes. Unconsciously, it has accompanied me quietly through 14 different summer.
"Squeak ......" In front of the house, the trees of the robin mad as if haunted, under the tree, the old man's fan slowly shaking, the July wind occasionally pass by, bringing the fragrance of the lotus flowers, send away some of the irritating sultriness, I really hope that the time stays at this moment, but, there are a few small children do not want to stay quietly, to come to break the quiet afternoon time. "Koko! Are you, at, not, at, home!" "Coming!" "Cong! You, have, no, someone! ""There is!"" The line of brats was almost complete, and it seemed that all that was missing was "Fruit", and then they all shouted, "Fruit! We're coming to play with you!" "Oh!" They were going to the camphor tree by the bridge. "Have you done your summer homework yet?" "No, there are still a few pages left to do" "My mom said I should do my homework before she lets me go out to play" Fruity lowered her head unhappily, her little mouth pouting "Then let's do our homework together today, okay?" "Okay!" They also ran home quickly to bring homework and pencils, together under the shade of the tree, yak yak yak, will not do the first empty, but also than who do fast, but also take the pencil that little eraser in the eraser, don't want to do it to go to the creek below to wash their hands, wash their feet, granny does not have to worry about us falling, because, the creek is very shallow, only up to our knees, and there will be no aunts to say that we only know how to play in their eyes, we don't need parents in the In their eyes, it's a great thing that we can do our homework on our own without our parents' painstaking teaching there. ........ At the end of the day, we went home, finished our homework, and looked forward to tomorrow in our beds. ......
Has forgotten, the rest of the summer is not like this, through the day after day, but the rest of the summer seems to gradually become less and less.
Article 2: Another year of summer time essay 600 words
Have you ever heard of such a song "the rest of the summer", which is not long ago the new song, this song out of the vast number of students in the senior atmosphere, but also said "summer" this most beautiful season.
Spring and summer, by the gentle spring girl sent hot summer brother, so that everything is more lush, more green, more vibrant breath. From the school struggling senior high school students to the fields of hard work of the majority of farmers, by not in this passionate summer, struggling, working hard, although every day sweating, sticky body, but also can not stop people's enthusiasm, the enthusiasm of the summer.
In the countryside, lush flowers and grasses on both sides of the road, so that people can not help but look at the joy and happiness; in the mountains in the distance, covered with green fruit trees, the omen of this golden fall will reap a rich harvest of apples; in the homes of all yards planted full of healthy and green vegetables, their own watering, in addition to the insects, until now can eat their own home cucumbers, tomatoes, I do not know how happy and satisfied the mind is. I'm not sure how happy and satisfied I am.
To the countryside at night, the stars are all over the sky, seems to be blinking, smiling at you; in the bushes with bright fireflies, a flash, seems to be in the dream of the fairyland, and the cicadas scream 'know - up, know - up' call and call. -The remaining people in the village center square at the shuttlecock, roller skating, jumping ribbons, and some in the square dance, there are old people in the movie, it is indescribably lively and happy. The heat of summer brings people together to experience a different kind of summer.
Until now I am still attached to the countryside in the summer, although it does not have the city's prosperity and bustle, no city lights and lights of the night, not like the city of the wandering place, but it has a quiet, a simple, a little green and a peace. Life in the countryside is the most refreshing, can leave everything behind, put down, only to retain a naivety and innocence.
In this colorful summer, take my heart to far away, leaving me a fiery summer.
Article 3: Another year in the height of summer time essay 600 words
A flash of bright crystal, leaving traces of the years. Time is far away, unknowingly thirteen spring and autumn has quietly passed. The same thing is still the same, is the heart of the childhood era of the beautiful.
Time and again, the years and then wasted, I can not forget the five-year-old summer. The sun is warmly sprinkled on the ground, I leaned against the chair and bathed. A rooster crowed into my ears, and then a neighbor's chicken appeared in front of me. I pondered for a moment, and an idea sprang into my mind.
I got up from my chair and carefully squatted down next to it, stroking the chicken's feathers gently but with an impish grin. The chicken suddenly jumped up, as if sensing the darkness. I immediately pounced at the sight. With one hand, I grabbed its feathers and lifted it up; with the other, I chucked its beak.
I caught it into the kitchen in triumph, tied its beak with a string, and stuffed it with a rag. "Let's see you squabble," I said triumphantly, "This time we've made a fortune!" After I had settled the chicken, I jumped up and down for a while, and then began the spirited act of slaughtering it.
I ferociously took a knife from the kitchen shelf. The knife was sharpened and shiny, reflecting my evil face. I followed the example of the samurai on TV, first, I made a few fake "ha" breaths, and then sprinkled a few drops of water on it. The chicken's legs were shaking with fear. For once I stroked its feathers meekly; perhaps this was the last time I would ever do so on it. Grabbing my knife, I didn't hesitate to hang a few cuts on it and a few feathers fell with it. Just as I wanted, I rubbed a few more knives on that chicken, and another batch of fluttering feathers.
After an hour of studying and demonstrating this technique, the chicken completed its transformation. Its thick, warm feathers were gone, and all it had was a naked body. I looked up to the sky and started laughing at that poor stupid chicken again, "Didn't your teacher tell you! Breaking and entering is against the law. There are so many bad people, you'll get caught by the bad guys if you go out randomly." After laughing, I happily kicked up the chicken shuttlecock.
Childhood, like the summer sun, everything is so warm, so comfortable. However, it is also gone forever. The first thing you need to do is to look back and see how many summers you had when you were five years old.
Ultimately, the five-year-old summer or I live in my memory. The five-year-old summer is childhood, childhood is the song, the song is more and more far away, but the more you sing the more beautiful. I wish this beautiful memory will always be in my dream sprawl.
Article 4: Another year of summer time essay 600 wordsThe ear is the electric fan "whirring" sound of the wind, the window of the sun into the house, hit the person's body, hot. The summer sun opened the album of memory, leading me back to the summer.
The hot sun burns the earth, the ear seems to hear the land cracking "Zira" sound; shedding cicada shells issued "creaking" sound of pain. In front of my eyes, I can see the tops of the leaves gradually bending, bright, shiny dark green into a dull, shriveled, dead yellow.
The blistering daylight makes it hard to open your eyes, and the sky over the city is filled with the noise of cicadas. The sound of cicadas is noisy. I took a big step on the road. Like a cat stealing fish, hiding into a path full of thick balsam camphor trees. Shrinking and hiding in the thick, dense green shade, I found a moment of coolness. The nose is filled with trees unique light fragrance, a restless heart seems to be quiet.
Not much stay, and continue to embark on the journey of running. The soles of the feet is a burst of burning sensation and pain, the heart of the restless molecules and in the body rampage. Suddenly, the sound of a violin, as soft as a brook flowing through the grass, reached my ears across the hot summer air. I couldn't help but stop, look around, stare - oh! It was an old man playing the violin.
I couldn't resist the curiosity in my heart, so I went closer to see. The old man was wearing a blue shirt, although the color has been washed white, but still very clean, long sleeves casually on the arm. The black cotton material pants are comfortable against the thighs. The leather shoes worn under his feet seemed to have some years of age, but you could still see the traces of shoe polish - the shoes were very shiny. Age does not seem to have left too many traces in this old man, there is only hale and hearty. Hair rather petty smeared with hair gel, stubble cleaned. Under the sun's rays, a thin layer of sweat had formed on his nose, but his eyes were still slightly closed, and the corner of his mouth drew an arc, as if he were intoxicated by the sound of the zither.
The cool sound of the violin flowed back and forth in the air around me, and I couldn't help but close my eyes and listen carefully. It was as if I was in a dense forest, smelling the fresh air and hearing the birdsong. The end of the song, the curling sound, the breeze blowing the leaves of the "rustle" sound, even the cicadas together with the combination of sound is so beautiful and beautiful.
A long time to open your eyes, look up, you will see the old man is full of laughter looking at me, can let me make a big red face. Is embarrassed at the time, glimpsed on the ground there is an unfolding piano box, I hastened to take out money to put in which, the old man but hold my hand, gently shook his head, played an unintelligible gesture, I realized that he is not able to speak. While hesitating, he lifted his bow again, but this time he was playing at me. The reddish-red body of the zither glows in the faint light of the green shade.
After playing this song, he did not do more waiting, will be on the ground of the piano box picked up, carefully put the violin into it, as treating the newborn baby in general, lovingly touched and touched. Using a handkerchief, he gently dusted off the dust on it. After doing this, he smiled and waved his hand to me, walked into a small roadside alley, hidden in the shadows of the sun can not reach, and then do not find traces.
Later, I learned that the old man did not realize his dream of becoming a violinist when he was young, and in his twilight years, he took the violin every day and played two or three songs on the path, day after day, every day.
The "whirring" sound of the fan came from my ears, and the summer sun closed the album of memories, bringing me back to this summer.