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Composition. 600 words. The title is picturesque.
Fireworks fall in Yangzhou in March. In Yangzhou in March, it was misty and rainy, and the rare Qionghua just bloomed and the flowers were overflowing, which was the golden season for tourism.

Jiao rou Qiong Hua

Qionghua is the flower of Yangzhou. Since ancient times, it has been known as "cultivating a flower, and there is no similar flower in the world". Qionghua looks elegant and pure. Its flowers are as big as a jade basin, surrounded by eight five-petal flowers, with a white pearl-like flower in the middle and a butterfly-like stamen around, swaying gently under the breeze, just like a butterfly playing with beads. Snowball-like flowers are covered with branches, and the fragrance is rich and fascinating.

Charming slender west lake

Yangzhou has both beautiful Qionghua and attractive tourist attractions. After years of construction, the scenic spots of Slender West Lake have become particularly charming. Especially when the fireworks went off in Yangzhou in March, I walked along the shore of Slender West Lake and saw several steps and a willow tree as gentle and charming as green fog. Besides, I feel more graceful and picturesque in the company of pomegranate, rhododendron and other charming flower trees. The winding water is like a ribbon, floating like a breeze. Compared with the West Lake in Hangzhou, it has the charm of a seedling. The poet Wang Ling wrote in his poem: "It is also a pot selling gold, so it should be called Slender West Lake."

Delicious Jiu Si soup

When you come to Yangzhou, you can't miss Yangzhou cuisine. "Yangzhou is good, the teahouse guests are invited. Add thousands of stocks, cook copper tobacco bags to raise seedlings, and cook crystal vegetables. " Tofu products in Huaiyang cuisine have a wide variety of colors and tastes, and are highly regarded as table food. Fresh and mellow chicken juice and tofu cooked with various seasonings are refreshing and appetizing, which makes people never tire of eating. Now the shredded pork is mainly shredded chicken, which is white, with fresh shrimp and various ingredients. It's called assorted shredded pork. It's a beautiful color. Boiled dried silk is not only famous all over the country, but also praised by foreign guests as "a famous dish in East Asia".

Fireworks come to Yangzhou in March. You won't think the visit is wasted.

It's cherry ripening season again.

There has been a lot of rain this year, and it has rained several times in a row. The Shidian River rises slightly, and the land smells rich, which is a precursor to a bumper harvest. In this season, I can't help thinking of Chuxiong and all this. ...

On the road of life, everyone has their own dreams. In order to pursue their dreams, they have paid a lot of sweat, hard work and even health. When victory was in sight, I was pessimistic and extremely confused. However, for that ideal, that dream, I will not be afraid, even if the road ahead is bumpy and difficult! Maybe there are obstacles ahead that I can't see. I will cherish every step forward for my dream, even if no one cheers, because I will always understand that from the first step I learn to walk, the road ahead is doomed to be long, and I will walk and face it myself.

It began to rain in Mao Mao early this morning. I walked slowly in the rain to the cinema square to recruit extras for the film "Yang Shanzhou", and the fine rain fell on me, which really made me feel like I didn't want to go back. Rain has always been my favorite sight. Even if you do nothing, staying in the rain for a while is a wonderful enjoyment. And I have a camera with me, so I can spend most of my time. However, the result of being in a daze is dull thinking and heavy enough to stare at the cinema all the time.

After dinner, I walked along the muddy road behind the county seat. In the distance, Yuan Ye was green and full of life. This season, even the grass seems to hear clearly, this is a growing season. In the face of green meta-leaves, even if there is still some stagnation, it will disappear with the spread of green.

Staring at several unknown wildflowers in the uphill field, at that moment, a different kind of calmness and gentleness spread from the fundus to the heart. When I was a child, I used to tear off such flowers and lick the sweet taste with my tongue. It feels beautiful. At the moment, it opens like a lantern, stretches its waist and nods slightly in the wind. I want to find the taste of childhood, but I can't bear to tear off the petals. At this time, there are always some memories revived in the arms of my hometown, and there are always some past events clearly presented in front of me. This is a beautiful season.

It was at sunset, and when I was walking slowly down the mountain, I caught a glimpse of some cherries in the ravine, and now they fascinate me in the afterglow of the sunset. I was surprised: "I forgot that this is the season when cherries are ripe." Through the thorny bushes, I came to the cherry tree. Unfortunately, the sunset at this moment has been blocked by clouds, and I can't capture the most beautiful moment of cherry. Even so, I'm addicted. Seeing the bright and shy cherries hidden in the green leaves, those memories about cherries revived and haunted me for a long time. ...

I like cherries very much because there are many cherry trees in Chuxiong. In spring, cherry blossoms fly in the street, and the pink and white of dead grass on the wall brings warmth to the wall. Spring in Chuxiong is actually very short. Although it still feels chilly, the villages on the edge of the city are full of flowers. There are many cherry trees in Zixi Mountain, one ditch and one ditch, one slope and one mountain. In the season when cherries are ripe, the cherries all over the mountains are red, green and green, and clusters of cherries are like pearls and agates, crystal clear. Looking around, these countless cherries are thriving, magnificent, exquisite, unpretentious and wild. At this time of year, the villagers are always beaming and ready to pick cherries at home. There are many techniques for picking cherries, but the Eight Immortals showed their magical power when crossing the sea. Some picked cherries are eaten at home and some are sold in the market, and the price is cheaper. If you meet a passing guest, the generous and hospitable villagers will always tear off a branch covered with red cherries and shout, "Look, the red on this branch!" ""quick, the purple on that branch! "Busy this busy that, politely let you follow the hands and feet, try this and see that, eat to the throat and burp in your eyes.

After the rain, the cherry red branches are low. In this ripe season of cherries, the short-lived beauty of cherries makes people sigh, just like a woman's face is perishable. At the moment of sighing, cherry's face will be covered with wrinkles: "Han Tao says Wu Dong is the best, and its fragrance is very different from fresh smell. Qiaqia looked up with thousands of flowers, and two or three flowers danced on her face. A bird stole a fire, but a man tripped while trying to pick it up. Unfortunately, there should be no day after the Ming Dynasty. "

Cherry is as short as life. Maybe a person has decided something when he was born. I always thought I could go far away, leave a city, leave this boring bustling, but where is my distance? I looked up at the sky. The color of the sky or the sound of the wind made people feel sad. The setting sun stretched the shadow obliquely, mottling the shadow wall. I stood by Xiangshuiwa Reservoir for a long time. The wind blew gently and the leaves rustled. Why people don't care why the soil is fertile, and no one knows how time is spent in the shade of trees. I have been growing, and so has he or she. People all over the world grow up together, but to different degrees. When the memory is strangled bit by bit in reality, the previous memory always suddenly appears in my mind when the memory disappears, and then inexplicably and inexplicably enlarges and disappears in my mind.

Think of Han Han's lyrics: "The beginning of a beautiful story, the world is counting down". No one can understand this feeling, and no one can change it. People live to like or even love or hate. Like this casual style, this is a period of "youth-related days" and memories of lost time, and vivid records make people miss it. Life is always strikingly similar, or, in a sense, we all grow up along similar tracks. Only many times do we think when we see such words, and the subtle feelings are expressed. So, during this period, we began to recall ourselves again. At that time, I also said childish things, did childish things, had childish thoughts, had great curiosity, and had some explicit or dark memory fragments such as absurd but real fears.

All kinds of youth flow vividly in the text. 1998, when the young Jia left his hometown in Fenyang, he looked at the heavy roof parallel to the long-distance bus and said to himself, "I will never come back to this place." Whenever and wherever, he can laugh and cry quietly, but at this end, I am still empty-handed and exhausted.

Light a cigarette, take a breath in your lungs, and have a faint aftertaste. Take a sip of beer gently, and recall 28 years of life lightly and sadly. Nothing, romantic, wild, rebellious, melancholy. This is an unspeakable feeling. In my artistic career, life is like a flowing fire pulse, which extinguished the last passion in my heroic body. The gurgling sound of words turned into a difficult trek, and the confession of life was bleak in retrospect. The soul crosses the noble art, and my life interprets incomparable enthusiasm. To choose an artistic life is to choose a lonely road of no return. Living calmly in art, my soul dances in lonely words, not for the sake of reality, but for the ultimate passion of pious people for art, which is a kind of throb of my soul, waving the overwhelming enthusiasm of life and parking in the noble ideological realm. I found the ultimate enthusiasm of life, a simple way of life.

The brevity of cherry blossoms and cherries was cut back by time in the days of being in the mood for love. Whom should I ask to? The sound of time goes upstream on the aging face, leaving a trace of echo occasionally, so that I can hear between the lines in the lonely midnight …