I remember that it was the first grade of primary school, and our school was going to hold the first session. At that time, the school business launched a sports meeting, calling on students to buy.
As a first-year bean curd brain, I couldn't resist the temptation, stubbornly asked for the money to buy souvenirs from there and gave it happily.
A few days later, those souvenirs were distributed, and the teacher repeatedly told us to go home and play again.
That day, I happened to attend an after-school English class with some friends. Others come home with toys at 4: 30, and we have classes until 6: 00. I was in a hurry and wanted to have a good look at the toys I bought, but I still had to go to class. In this way, we went to English class reluctantly.
Finally, at the end of the first big class, we couldn't help it any longer. We opened the bag of toys several times: it was a rooster holding a torch (that year was the Year of the Rooster), dressed in blue, dignified and cute-at least I thought so at that time.
We sat in the corridor and talked affectionately about toys. Occasionally, I will raise my eyes and look out of the window. In the small garden next to the playground, locust trees are flourishing and blooming with the most simple and sweet fragrance.
I forget what we talked about that day. I think so. I only remember what everyone said. When I came back to class, I glanced out of the window again and saw a thick red shrimp reflected in the sky-blue teaching building.
The second big recess, we were much more arrogant than the last recess, because we found that no one in the quiet school could pose a threat to us.
Like festivals, everyone waved toys and shouted the slogan of the school sports meeting: "Exercise from an early age and win glory for our country!" Olympic spirit, promoted by the government! "
After shouting, everyone laughed together. After laughing, they continued to shout, and the childish voice echoed in the teaching building for a long time.
Finally, after school, we walked out of the teaching building with toys. Did you drop it? The lux ball has disappeared in the sky, leaving only a touch of golden afterglow, rendering the red sky.
In the seventh grade, I wrote a composition of 500 words about summer. In summer, it seems a little short. In the blink of an eye, the green leaves turned into brown and red maple leaves. Red lotus becomes lofty and self-cleaning autumn chrysanthemum. The leafy tree cicada was blown away by the typhoon. The typhoon blew away the summer and the disappointment in my heart.
In August, typhoon anemone woke me up. The howling wind drew a unique full stop for the summer vacation. The typhoon blew badly this time. The tree at home was broken and the leaves kept flying in the air. School starts in September, and I'm not a primary school student. Facing junior high school life, everything is at a loss. Who else can I talk to if I don't give up in my heart? Reluctant primary school, * * * our good friends who have gone through the storm, the teachers who were first loved in primary school, and the dribs and drabs of Class 6 (1).
Now, the primary school is gone, but why do I remember it like this? My mother also told me: Let bygones be bygones, even if I miss it again. Yes, why not let go of the past? The yearning for middle school is also very different from that of primary school. Outside the window, typhoon, unbridled; In my heart, I don't give up and flow into the bone marrow; Memories, the past, can not be forgotten; Sky, geese, flying sheep. Listening to the carnival of the wind, the voice of friends, watching the rain, remembering the teacher's teaching, smelling the feeling of summer and experiencing the taste of primary school. Let me recall it again. I don't know how hard it will be if I forget it in the future. By the way, my first teacher, who moistened my mind with the spring breeze, remembered my mind bit by bit. She not only made me change, but also made me work miracles in my study.
When the typhoon subsided, I walked out the door: Ah! What a strong wind! The wind mixed with rain dripped on my face and mouth. Oh, it is bitter, just like my heart. Actually, it's not bitter, but my souvenir makes me feel miserable. The leaves on the ground collapsed there, forming a green path. I walk against the wind. The typhoon blew on the face, chilly, clothes flapping on the back, and hair stroking the neck. Suddenly, I woke up. Why miss it? Focus on the East, everything is so bright, and every day will be sunrise. The wind creaked the window, and the typhoon seemed to wake me up again, blowing me and my primary school time in half, half into the future, and generally into the present.
The typhoon came, blowing away the disappointment in my heart and what I have always missed.
In the seventh grade, the 500-word composition describing summer is fascinating and colorful in most people's impression.
In my memoirs, Xia is always faint and simple, and is not covered by any rich colors. Although light, it is also full of unique summer rhyme. In summer in the south, everything is green. The green weeping willows are reflected in the lake. Lotus, the spokesperson of Xia.
The purity of mud without dyeing adds a uniqueness to summer. The flowers there may be red by the sun. Pure lotus flowers, fiery pomegranate flowers, and delicate peony. It is full of dew in this gorgeous season. This is the heat in the south, which is very different from the heat in the north. My hometown is in the north, and the summer here is fresh and elegant. In my mind, summer is always late.
But it brings the fragrance of flowers, light green and gloomy. In April, the peach blossoms have faded. The gray-green grassland has a unique charm. At this time, gentle Xia Feng brought a fragrant fragrance. Lilacs are in full bloom in this light green. Elegant powder, fresh white, mysterious purple.
They all overflowed from the small flowers. Humidify hot air. Lavender appears incisively and vividly in lilacs, which makes people meaningful. Summer in the north always lacks that rich color. In the dazzling sunshine, Liu Cui is still so fresh. All the flowers seem to represent elegant green. Pink, white and lavender have become the main colors of light colors.
Not only small lilacs, but also delicate wild roses. Blue-purple clouds seem to be swaying in the elegant green. The only bright purple in this cluster is the embellishment of elegant summer clothes. Rich green is an unreachable dream in my hometown. The summer here is not short, so don't worry about lilacs fading. And elegant green is more pleasing to the eye than rich colors.
Although the phoenix bamboo in the moonlight is charming, the elegant summer in my hometown has a unique charm in summer. Hometown, summer, is always so desirable, longing for the mystery of clarity, novelty and lightness.
Summer is sultry, but colorful. As long as you feel it with your heart, you will find it very charming.
Summer is red. Yang Wanli, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, wrote in his poem: "After all, the scenery of the West Lake is different from the four seasons in June; The next day, the lotus leaf is infinitely blue, and the lotus color is different. " Look, those pink lotus flowers are like veiled fairies bathing in the lake. Shy and eager to talk, Ying Ying is about to drip, and the fragrance is floating in the wind, which is refreshing. Some buds are sprouting; Some are in bud, and the flower bones stick out like torches; Some compete to open, revealing delicate little lotus flowers.
Summer is green. If you walk into our school, you will find the campus is covered with green: big trees and small trees are green, and the grass is green. The banyan tree is tall and straight. Looking up, a bright green leaf shines in the sun, showing endless vitality. The French phoenix tree is as tall as the banyan tree and is also a green tree. On the branches extending around, palm-like green leaves are dense, leaving a shade for the campus. If the banyan tree is a mighty guardian on campus, then the buttonwood tree is a big green umbrella. There are many other trees, all of which have faded from the yellow left in winter, showing the green of a tree.
Summer is white. Su Dongpo, one of the eight masters in the Tang and Song Dynasties, once wrote in "Red Cliff Nostalgia": "The rocks pass through the air, and the stormy waves beat the shore, rolling up thousands of piles of snow." The waves in the sea are like a large cotton field that has just cracked peaches, sparkling and endless. Some naughty children, willy-nilly, took off their shoes, grabbed the lifebuoy from their mother and jumped barefoot into the cheering embrace of the sea.
Summer is yellow. The paddy field is golden yellow, which looks like a golden carpet from a distance. The rice grains are so full that the rice stalks are bent. Suddenly, a breeze blew and the ears of rice seemed to nod. Needless to say, this year's early rice is definitely another bumper year.
Summer is blue. After the thunderstorm, the rain flowed quietly. I looked up and the blue sky was washed. The blue of the sky is fascinating, and it reminds me of the hard training scene of the small marine corps in the junior military academy.
I think I became a little painter, with a palette in my hand, depicting the summer scenery: red is hope; White is pure; Blue is broad; Yellow glory; Green is healthy. ...