Small flowers with interconnected roots and blood. This is the breath of spring, this is the vigor, this is the courage to run on, this is ...... that big one is me, little me, Wuhan an elementary school student's me, named Mao Zhengxuan. A few more days to spring, that can not wait for the small flowers open, that is how bright, that is how delicate, spotless, issued a light fragrance. Mom Zhou Ying, is a white angel, these days she has trouble, can not go home to accompany the little Mao Zhengxuan this heel! Yes, it is called caterpillar.
? Mom, is 120 personnel, she guarded so many so many patients! She can not guard the little caterpillar. Because that's the job. Because it was a special time, because there were many patients, and there was only one little caterpillar, and when those patients got better, mom could still go back to the little caterpillar.
Dad, is 119 personnel, at this juncture, he went from door to door mapping, checking the post in addition to the risk. Hard work all day. Luckily, you can usually accompany the little caterpillar at night. The sweetest time is when the two of them **** the same video call to Zhou Ying. Little Caterpillar always encourages his mom to guard the patients. He and his dad were men and could take care of themselves. This little luxury, however, was interrupted by an expedited call. Papa had been pulled out for an emergency and might not be home for seven to ten days! Dad is to protect the people to the guards.
When Dad was leaving, the little caterpillar was anxious to put a mask on Dad: "You protect the people! I protect you!"
This little guy's sentence, the father's eyes get hazy. Behind these hazel eyes, he understands that this is not a day or two. Sometimes, no, often returned at 3:4 am. The light was on in the house and the little caterpillar crawled up to the little flower. He did not spare the little flower, but nourished it, nurtured it, protected the little picture, and he fell asleep on it, with a happy smile on his face! Perhaps, he dreamed a good dream! He dreamed that he started school, the art teacher taught them the group of hairy children "Spring is coming" --
Looking forward, looking forward, the east wind came, the footsteps of spring is close.
? Everything looks like it has just woken up and opened its eyes gladly. The mountains are moist, the water is rising, and the sun's face is red.
? Grass sneaks out of the soil, tender, green. The garden, the field, look to go, a large area full of. Sitting, lying, playing two rolls, kicking a few feet of the ball, race a few times to run, catch a few times hide and seek. The wind is gentle and the grass is soft.
Peach trees, apricot trees, pear trees, you do not let me, I do not let you, are full of flowers to catch up. The red like fire, pink like the summer, white like snow. Flowers with a sweet flavor, closed his eyes, the tree seems to have been full of peaches, apricots, pears. Thousands of bees buzzed under the flowers, and butterflies of all sizes flitted about. Wildflowers were everywhere: a miscellany of sorts, named and unnamed, scattered among the flowers, like eyes, like stars, and winking and winking.
"Blowing face not cold willow wind", good, like a mother's hand caressing you. The wind brings some of the breath of the newly turned soil, mixed with the smell of grass, as well as the fragrance of various flowers, all brewing in the slightly moist air. Birds will nest in the flowers and young leaves in the middle of the happy, calling friends to show off the crisp throat, singing a melodious tune, with the light wind and flowing water to echo. The short flute of the cowherd boy on the back of the cow, this time also all day in the loud and clear sound.
Rain is the most common, one is three or two days. Don't be annoyed. Look, like cow hair, like flower needle, like fine silk, densely woven diagonally, the roof of the house is covered with a layer of thin smoke. The leaves of the trees, however, are so green that they shine, and the grass is so green that it forces your eyes. In the evening, on the lamp, a little yellow light, baked a piece of this quiet and peaceful night. In the countryside, on the path, stone bridge, there are people walking slowly with umbrellas; there are also farmers working in the field, wearing straw raincoats and hats. Their straw huts, sparse, silent in the rain.
There are more kites in the sky and more children on the ground. The city and the countryside, families, old and small, also rush like, one by one, all out. Shuhua Shuhua tendons, shake the spirit, each do a child of the matter to go, "the plan of the year in the spring"; just the beginning of the head, there is a lot of work, there is a lot of hope.
Spring is like a doll that just landed on the ground, from head to toe are new, it grows.
Spring is like a little girl, flamboyant, smiling, walking.
This is a painting of Spring is Coming, the big branch is the little caterpillar, and the small one is mom and dad.
What a great metaphor! The two small ones are just like the mom and dad who meet trouble? That big brilliant son, it is under the care of the thriving, is the hope of mom and dad, is the power of mom and dad to adhere to the strong continue!
How great! The caterpillar is exactly in a lonely dark night painted. This is not a great thing?
What a great thing!