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Diary of helping my sister pick flowers

My parents are farmers, and I often followed them in the vegetable fields when I was a child.

One day, my mother was pulling weeds in the field, and I was playing on the side. I saw sparkling streams, lush water willows, interesting country roads, flying dragonflies, running dogs, and blue sky and white clouds. But the most eye-catching thing is the purple morning glory. I walked towards that land.

The bees are busy and the morning glory is blooming brightly and beautifully. Make people's love arise spontaneously. As soon as I walked in, the buzzing sound of bees reached my ears, as if to oppose my entry.

When I was a child, I loved putting the flowers I picked into the flowing stream. Watching the petals flow away with the clear stream, I felt endless joy in my heart.

I stretched out my hand and picked off the morning glory. I picked them one by one and repeated them again and again. There are gradually more flowers in my hands, and I feel satisfied. Beside the creek, the water is flowing slowly forward, accompanied by the soft sunshine.

I tore the picked flowers into petals, gently put them into the stream, and watched the petals flow slowly under the sunlight and driven by the river water. Looking from a distance, it looks like a large army preparing to set sail. I also like to walk with them all the way to the end of the stream.

Although my childhood was sad, sad, and unforgettable, it was mostly happy. I will never forget the joy of picking flowers in my childhood.