Continuing to walk forward, I saw a lot of farmers plowing their fields. But with the past is different is that they have new "equipment" to assist it! A shiny tractor, wheat cutter shell in the sun's light appears to be particularly eye-catching. The ears kept coming from the sound of "wow...wow...", followed by rows and rows of wheat will fall neatly, as if bending over for the farmers to say hello to the new China!
Back in the small town where I live, looking at the clean and spacious streets, looking at the cabs coming and going, remembering the scene of a mess here a few years ago. "Tick, tick, tick..." The sound of drivers honking their horns came to my ears, and this rhythmic "music" seemed to me to tell me that reform and opening up has brought great benefits to this town. The Chinese people also thanked the new China on behalf of all the Chinese people!
Walking through the countryside, towns and cities, suddenly made me from the bottom of my heart to the "new China" have a wave of admiration.
In 1979, China began to implement the policy of reform and opening up. 2001, China joined the WTO organization; in 2003, 2005, 2008, China's manned spacecraft Shen5, Shen6, Shen7 in the sky; in 2008, China hosted the Olympic Games ...... success after success to make China's foundation stronger and stronger. The success of each success has made China's foundation more and more solid. In these 30 years, New China has also encountered a lot of trouble. 1998 floods; the beginning of 2008 snowstorms; May 2008 Sichuan earthquake ...... again and again "trouble" to make the new China become more mature, stronger, make the Chinese people become more united. It has made the Chinese people more united.
Because of the unity of the 1.3 billion people of 56 nationalities in China, the new China is not afraid to face an earthquake of magnitude 8.0, and go forward; so that the new China to face the financial crisis calmly, and make the right choice; so that the Chinese people say to the new China, new China, how are you; so that the foreigners say to the new China, new China, how are you!
Feng, hello
She still remembers the fall of her first meeting with the boy named Feng. At that time, autumn had not yet fully descended, but the unique cold in the north had made the treetops hang with reddish-red color early. In such a golden-red season, stepping on the chill of early fall, she wrapped her cloak tightly and marched on the mountain path. The grass by the side of the road is already slightly yellow, but not completely withered. The cool airflow through her collar blew into her neck, making her feel very cozy.
She held a long staff, the top of which was set with a golden-red jewel. The gem blended in with the plants around her as her walk was hidden among the trees. Her cloak was black, but the cuffs were embroidered with golden flowers representing autumn. Her gait was heavy but unsteady, and her eyes showed a sense of hope and determination.
She stopped at a fork in the road, where fallen leaves had covered the path, the pointer in the center of the road was polished by the years to a color that could not be seen, and a maple leaf landed on the top, swaying gently in the breeze. She lifted her hand to pick up the flaming red maple leaf, her face was instantly filled with confusion, she pressed the maple leaf to her chest and muttered, "Maple, did you not come again. I come here year after year in my robes with golden tattoos to wait for you, but you never show up for your appointment." A faint sadness was outlined between the words, not just asking or confiding.
When her first acquaintance with Kaede was, she could not remember. All she could remember was that it was a bleak autumn day, and she was wandering through the forest in her maple-embellished robes just as she was now, except that she held a palette and brush in her hand instead of a staff, and the concept of battle was not yet in her mind. She stopped at the base of a huge aspen tree, and through the staggering branches she could see the clear sky that was unique to autumn, and a few wisps of clouds skimming across the sky in the very distance. She liked the feeling of stopping and setting up her easel in the forest, but struggled to find a place to land. Yes, it was too quiet. Then a deer came into the forest, a full-grown merganser, graceful and upright like most deer, head held high, ears twitching smartly, a hint of curiosity showing in its inky eyes.
With a thrill in her heart, she lifted her brush and sketched out the deer's general outline on the drawing paper. Then the deer's limbs, she was full of thick ink, and was about to start painting this wonderful creature in the fall, when an arrow swished and nailed the deer's hind hoof. The deer let out a wail and leapt forward a few steps, but was soon pierced through the belly by another arrow and fell to the ground, struggling a few times and then not moving. Her pen paused on the brush, her heart in her throat. At that moment a young boy stepped out of the forest, he had short orange-red hair, a slight hint of boyishness on his Jiraiya's face, and dark eyes that shone like stars. He held a longbow in his hand, and it was obvious that the two arrows just now came from his hands. He whistled excitedly as he saw the plumed deer fall to the ground. She felt like there was something stuck in her throat, like she was rebuking a few words but couldn't say anything, so she could only stand still with her fists clenched tightly, her chest rising and falling with each breath. The boy spotted the female painter and gave her a friendly smile. The genuine smile made her anger subside. "What are you painting?" The boy slung the deer over his shoulder and came over to her binder. His face flushed to the base of his neck when he realized that the main character she was depicting was the very same deer he was carrying on his shoulder. "I'm ...... sorry." He stuttered. Looking at his troubled appearance, the female painter felt a little amused. She interrupted his apology with a wave of her hand, "You killed my model, as compensation, you will act as my model for a time."
And so it was just the two of them in the forest that silent afternoon. The boy stood on the path filled with maple leaves, his longbow in his hand, the plumed deer against his shoulder, and a bright smile on his face. In the days to come, the two often met in the woods. In the fall they watched the maple, in the winter they watched the snow. The boy led her to almost every corner of the forest. He claimed to be born in the fall, hence the name Maple. She was delighted because her name also had the word Maple in it, not because she was also born in the fall, but because she had always harbored a hazy sense of attachment to it.
And so it went on for years, until one day the boy missed his appointment. She wandered under that birch tree for a long time and didn't see him coming. She went home stepping on the autumn leaves, always feeling empty in her heart. She went to the birch tree every day after that and waited. One day the boy came, his silky curls were disheveled, his eyes were full of fear, his sheepskin jacket was torn in pieces, and there was a knife wound on his face. Heartbroken, she took his hand and rubbed it against her fingertips. "Did you get into a fight?" She asked. The boy shook his head but hesitated to speak. Instead of strolling through the forest as they usually did that day, they sat in silence. When it was time to part, he told her, "I'll write you." Then he took off running, and that was the last figure she left in his mind, still sprinkled with burgundy maple leaves on the trail, as he ran in a panic, his blonde hair flowing behind his head. She had tried to put that scene on paper, but realized there was no way to put it down. It was too deep, like a mark burned into her heart. And it was too shallow, shallow like an elusive dream.
Then she did receive a letter from him, in a bamboo tube, delivered by a boy who called himself his brother. Breathing heavily, she opened the bamboo tube and read it. In the letter the boy mentioned that the country was at war with a neighboring country and that he had been drafted into the army as a boy above the required age. At first he didn't want to go, he had made up his mind to go and see her one last time and then go far away. But he saw encouragement in her eyes and he didn't want to be a coward, so he went, taking his beloved longbow with him. He ended his letter by saying that he would return, for he missed that feeling of walking in the woods with her, and he asked him to make sure that he waited for him under that maple tree on that day each year when they first met, dressed in a robe with the golden tattoos that symbolized autumn.
After reading it, she wiped away her tears. After some more time, she gave up painting and became a mage instead. Because away from him, she could no longer find the feeling of holding a brush. When the autumn leaves were as red as blood, her forlorn figure would be seen marching through that one grove of fallen maple leaves.
Maple, hello
Autumn, a season of high winds and crisp air, a season of bountiful harvests and fragrant cinnamon, and of course, a season of beauty. The sky is most beautiful in autumn. In the morning, the sky is quiet, the color of the sea so blue, blue, blue, blue, the sun only "get up", rising from the east, the sun's light is not too fierce, shine to the people, let people feel very warm. By midday, the sunlight is extremely fierce, like an angry uncle, shining on people especially hot, but there are a few birds in the air flying freely, from time to time issued a "twitter, twitter, twitter" sound, as if to say: "Good hot, good hot, good hot, good hot! " An afternoon, the sunlight has weakened a lot, in the absence of too much sunlight, people can vaguely see the clouds in the sky, some of them are like rabbits feeding, some like a leopard running, and some like a big dragon in flight ...... Although the sunlight shoots at the eyes, can not see clearly, but I can see, has been very satisfied! In the evening moment, the sun is no longer as brilliant as at noon, the blue sky like drunkenness, turned into a light red, the sun gradually took off the orange coat, replaced with red, everything around it is also so red, it slowly returned to the arms of the western mountains, the light is weak, as if about to extinguish the match. It set down the mountain, leaving a red haze, as if the fairy's clothes fell from the sky to the mortal world, and it was very quiet all around. People bathed in the haze, it was so cozy ah! At night, the sky was dark, like the Jade Emperor accidentally tipped over the ink cartridge when he was writing, the sky twinkled with countless stars, as if the eyes in the sky, and the big, round moon illuminated the dark night, lighting up the way of the playful children to go home, like the illuminating lamp of the dark night. And I, lying in my grandfather's arms, listened to him tell stories about the moon ......
I love autumn, love its windy weather, love its changing sky
Autumn
In the fall, the sky is especially blue, like sapphire, and especially high. It's like it's going to fly away. A flock of geese flew in from the north, like countless marvelous black dots, lined up in ''one'' at one time, and in "human" at another time. Nearer and nearer, they laughed and joked, playfully and happily flew towards the south.
Autumn wind, she is like a young girl, wearing a golden color, with light steps, quietly came to earth. You see, the autumn girl came to the field to a cotton ball dyed white as snow, corn see the autumn girl can be happy, it deliberately changed a bunch of golden tassels, grinning, revealing a mouth full of white teeth; soybeans may be too excited, and some of them even smiled through the belly; rice, but especially courteous, stooped down to meet the autumn girl long time; sorghum is always afraid to meet the stranger, this is not, to see the girl in the autumn; still embarrassed, the face are up! The reddish color of the face.
The autumn girl came to the courtyard. You see. Chrysanthemums compete in color, red like fire, yellow like gold, pink like the sun, white like snow. Into the orchard. Saw a variety of nutritional duck pear; a string of pearl-like grapes from green to dark red, long and garden and large crystal transparent, like agate. Grapes picked, I picked a large put in the mouth and sweet and sour, juice is very much, really delicious. The jujube tree is full of a bright crystal, reddish jujube, bite It is so sweet, so crisp.
Autumn, is a season to turn ideals into reality, autumn, is a divine angel to give people life. Autumn, is a season of harvest . Autumn, is already ripe when all the food ti fall. Autumn is a season of harvest.
So, people love autumn, love her autumn high, love her cloud light, love her fragrance in all directions. Autumn makes farmers' smiles extra bright.
Autumn leaves
Autumn is here, the weather makes me feel a slight coolness, I look toward the fields, a golden yellow, the leaves? Autumn leaves are colorful, autumn leaves are unique.
Late in the afternoon, I came to the small park, climbed to the hillside, and saw the ginkgo tree at a glance. The leaves of the ginkgo tree look like a small fan. When the fall wind blew, the ginkgo leaves swayed with the wind, like fanning us. At that moment, a strange thought came into my head: the reason why it is so cold in the fall, could it be that they are fanned like this? I looked at the ginkgo tree, which seemed to be nodding at me. The leaves of the ginkgo tree were a pale yellow color, and when shaken vigorously, the leaves danced as if they were a yellow butterfly.
There is also a bamboo forest in the small park, and now its leaves are still so verdant. From a distance, like a straight waist of green soldiers, protecting the "nature" of this castle. No wonder poets often use the pine, bamboo and plum "three cold friends" to express the lonely character. In
Many leaves, I like the maple leaves the most, in the fall, it will take off the red shirt, put on the red cotton jacket, like a beautiful girl wearing gorgeous clothes, glowing, stand out in the many leaves. Nearby, the red maple leaves like a beautiful red butterfly fluttering around me, and like a small red flag for China. From afar, there is another scenery, the maple leaves like a fire, ignited our enthusiasm for learning, and like the blood of the soldiers dyed red the victory flag. Unconsciously, the sun is setting, the maple leaves make me think of an ancient poem "stop and love the maple forest evening, the frost leaves are redder than the February flowers."
The leaves of the trees in the evening under the setting sun are like a peaceful and beautiful painting, which makes people feel compassionate
The call of autumn
Autumn is like a fairy tale with a tragic ending told by a writer with his slightly sentimental tone of voice. Always like to use the color blue to describe autumn, always feel that this is a season with melancholy, just like 。。。。。。 The pot of orchids on the windowsill, which no one has noticed for a long time but still grows stubbornly, and the ice cream that is slowly melting under the scorching sun like the past.
I don't know what I'm fixated on, but I've always been a fan of such sentimental things. I don't admit to being a pessimist, I just like to approach something from a pessimistic point of view. I like to predict a thing that is not yet over, and thus find that if I predict a thing from an optimistic perspective, it will often end pessimistically; if I predict an ominous outcome, often the thing will have a happy ending. So I often approach things from a pessimistic point of view, retaining a glimmer of hope in my heart, like a star winking and blinking. It's like walking through a field in the fall and occasionally seeing a branch of grass that's still green.
Always like to write in the quiet of the autumn night. Light a candle, or lie down on a table through the moonlight and gently close your eyes. I can't hear any sound, I can't see anything, there is only a slightly sad black color under my eyes, I like this feeling. Nothing, thinking but more space, emotions like a clear spring, gurgling outward, the tip of the pen will not be able to scratch on the paper. Occasionally a cricket chirps, but also slightly through the miserable and sad.
The mermaid bubbles and green birds flying by that keep appearing in dreams can also all tell the fairy tale of autumn over and over again. However, it is not for reading, but to close your eyes and listen with all your heart.
Autumn fields
One afternoon, I had dinner and went for a walk in the fields. It was already evening, and the sun, which had been running all day, was red and big, like a big ball of fire, and as if it were a big red lantern hanging in the sky.
A field brook flowed happily in the field, meandering into the distance, and some leaves fell on it, turning into a small golden sailboat, sailing with the stream into the distance. Afterglow sprinkled on the creek creek on the lack of golden light, like a thin layer of gold veil, there are many different colors of spots, like sprinkled in the creek jewels, the message embellished colorful. I threw a stone to the brook, the stone splashed pearly water, in the sunlight constitute layers of phantoms, the sun's half has sunk below the horizon. This is the brook half red, half green. Bai Juyi's "Twilight River Song" says it all: "A remnant of the sun is spread over the water, half of the river is red." Although the creek is not like a big river, but it has a flavor, even if the skillful painter is difficult to paint such a landscape.
The field is a harvest scene: endless paddy fields like paved with gold. One of the ears of rice fracture potbelly, up to break like, a wind blew, will set off a burst of golden waves. Cotton small column mouth, sorghum smile bent waist, apple trees full of red apples with red faces, yellow pear bent branches, orange top green leaves, like hanging in the trees of small lanterns. Not far away there are a few farmers harvesting crops, a sweet smile on their faces.
The setting sun gathered its last rays. The sky is all dark, only the moonlight quietly cascades on the road, silence reigns over this field, only the round moon accompanied by the brook is still tirelessly flowing, flowing ......
The fields in the fall are not only beautiful, but also rich. Autumn 2008-10-08 18:18 In my childhood, I had a vague concept of the four seasons. I only know that spring is warm, summer is hot, fall is cool and winter is cold. With the passage of time, people gradually grow up, slowly I fell in love with the spring birds and flowers; fell in love with the summer in the pool of playful joy, ice cream excitement; fell in love with the winter pile of snowmen, snowball fights, see the snow scene ...... Only the fall, let me feel boring and tasteless. Especially in the fall of my hometown, all day long I only see the leaves withered and yellowed and withered one by one. After the boredom, the most is just a few threads of sadness.
The language teacher said that autumn is the most beautiful season of the year. I didn't fully believe it at the time and was always a bit skeptical. But since then, I have been observing and feeling the fall.
Autumn rain tends to fall, fine and dense. The wind is mixed with the rain, and the rain follows the wind, drifting. The rain gently washes everything on the earth, the ground is washed and oiled, and the leaves of the trees are constantly oozing grainy raindrops. By dusk, both the wind and the rain slowed down. The sun climbed out of the clouds again and gave her afterglow to the earth. The yellow leaves revealed a faint reddish color under the soft sunlight, just like the beautiful cheeks of a shy maiden.
Autumn wind drifting through the place, the leaves will send out "rustle" sound, very good, when the wind is strong, the yellow leaves will break free of the tree, with the wind dancing, as if a beautiful yellow butterflies, in the accompaniment of the wind, singing and dancing. At this time, it happens to have three or two people from the falling yellow leaves walked by, this is not a beautiful picture? But it is so fleeting, like a flash in the pan. Before I had time to appreciate it, it disappeared.
I regret this short-lived beauty, but also regret the rigidity of the autumn leaves. It struggled so hard to get rid of the constraints of the tree, but does it not know that the leaves will eventually return to their roots? In order to be so free for a short period of time but will bury themselves forever in the deep roots of the tree, is it worth it? But I also think that this may be the spirit of the autumn leaves. They break free from the boundaries of the tree's real purpose, perhaps not in that moment of freedom, they are in order to inject their last into the roots, so that the tree in the cold winter can have enough nutrients. In the spring of the next year, the branches will grow new, more robust new leaves,
These new leaves are not exactly the figure of their year? When I think about it, I feel proud of the autumn leaves again, I did not think they would have the "sustainable development" idea, it's amazing. Perhaps it is the mysterious nature that gives it.
Spring winds make people sleepy; summer winds make people feel hot; winter winds make people feel cold. Only the wind in the fall makes people feel refreshed, neither sultry, nor cold, but also allows people to wake up a lot. I simply suspect that the autumn wind has the effect of refreshing the brain, coupled with the cool autumn rain, this is the best lead, a valuable "natural medicine" I'm afraid that the formation of it.
Autumn wind and autumn rain may be the world's most perfect pair of partners. Autumn wind blows with autumn rain, autumn rain accompanied by autumn wind. They can make everything in the world reflect the crystal luster, reflecting the elegance of autumn. Maybe they can trim a beautiful picture of autumn. Looking at them, I can't help but sigh: the autumn wind blows, the autumn rain flies; the autumn wind is cool, the autumn rain is cool.
Autumn wind, autumn rain, autumn leaves. None of them can show beauty alone. What they express is the beauty of the whole, the beauty of harmony. Without the wind, the rain does not fly, the leaves will not dance; without the rain, the wind will not be wet, the leaves will not be shy; without the leaves, the wind seems monotonous, the rain seems boring. Only when they are skillfully combined can they form a beautiful painting, an exquisite poem - autumn.
Nature gave the spring birds and flowers, gave the summer thriving, gave the winter beautiful snow scene, of course, will not forget to give the fall. So, she gave the fall mystery and beauty. It seems that nature does not favor anyone.
I also understand a truth from this: people's talent is similar, in order to surpass others, to achieve extraordinary achievements, I am afraid that you have to eat extraordinary suffering.
Autumn, let me appreciate its beauty, and let me understand some truth.
Autumn, really fruitful.
Autumn has come, the morning line in the road, obviously feel a cold cold, came to the face. The noisy road is full of footsteps in a hurry, only the yellow flowers on both sides of the road, as if no one leisurely open. Every time I pass by, I want to find out its name, and its family history. People always have curiosity, this is an understandable and acceptable state of mind. But every time it is so elegantly open, so that I can not open my mouth, can only hold my breath, approach it, but do not disturb it. No matter what it is called, the name is not important at a certain time, the important thing is that it is in the fall, so I think the season of depression, beautiful every morning of my hurry. Even if I don't know its name or its origin, I have no reason to forget it. There is also no reason to forget every sad, happy, joyful, or lost day of my life.
In the fall, some voices overshadowed all my loneliness, making me think that in the chaotic world, I finally found a piece of sky that belongs to me, a white cloud, singing the most beautiful song for me, and that is a song that belongs only to me. I like to sit quietly in the fall on the door abuse, counting every day related to memories, related to the song, the heart becomes as gentle as the lake. I carry a beautiful reverie, lost in the dream of autumn. If the dream never wakes up, at least I will still firmly believe that the cold stone will also bloom warm flowers. But as it turns out, a stone is a stone after all, and it will only exist stiff and cold.
Autumn morning will also have the sound of birdsong. In fact, I heard it very, very early, just curled up in the warm blanket did not want to wake up. Autumn birdsong than the spring birdsong less a crisp, less a happy. More a low, more a melancholy. This is my eyes closed, listening out of the feeling. Although listening to listen, the heart will inexplicably sad. Even if you don't like the fall, there is nothing you can do. Because this is not allowed to choose, is not allowed to escape, must go to meet, and still must smile to meet a season.
If this fall is beautiful, it is because of a meeting, when the warm blessings such as snowflakes in the sky as flying, happiness soon filled my little susceptible heart. I like to use flowers to describe happiness, in fact, I know more happiness as flowers this is a very inappropriate metaphor. Flowers will always face fading, and happiness, too, will be very short-lived, as short as a shooting star across the sky, such as the moonlit night flash in the pan. And who sees my bright eyes secretly flowing with sadness, and who would know that there is a ghost like a fluttering shadow always wandering in my mind.
Autumn is sentimental, so I do not like, when many people, writing poems and songs related to autumn, I am like a passer-by wandering outside the door of the autumn, cold look, with a bystander attitude, see those in the autumn staged one after another sad and lingering story, and then, light smile, turn around, leave. Autumn in me, is always very indifferent, indifferent to my feeling of its warmth, autumn wind and autumn rain autumn brake people, the kind of autumn rain, the kind of whistling autumn wind, always stirring up a burst of pain in the human heart. And thoughts will always fly over thousands of mountains, across the lofty mountains and steep collars, to follow the past.
Autumn has come, spring will not come back, winter, and quietly set sail, docked in the water side. I have no other choice but to meet it with a filtered and pure heart. There are many pieces you want that piece to be that piece to put!!!! I hope you can adopt