Hometown in August-Hello, how can I not miss it? Here are my relatives and friends, the remains of my ancestors, my childhood dreams like waves … and the colorful August in my memory. As soon as I got on the bus to the west, my heart flew away like a bird out of the cage, into the arms of Lao Huang, into the small riverside shaded by willow trees, into the small quadrangle, and took away a bunch of tenderness and gave it to my mother early. As the car drove, I squatted by the window, greedily and selflessly reading August on the plain ―― boundless and vast, surging and swaying; Endless thousands of acres of autumn colors, welcome to Qiu Guang-rice is yellow, and Jin Lang is surging in the breeze; Cotton fried mouth, white inside and silver, like the stars of the milky way; Peanut seedlings and sweet potato vines have covered the land densely and green, like the tide. If the car hadn't followed fast, you might have seen cracks in their roots pushed open by full fruits! The sky in August is so deep, wide and high. A few geese crossed the blue sky, but under the round wheat straw pile, three or five hens were leisurely planing the comfort of life ... Luxi plain, Luxi plain, you sprinkled the sweetness, color and fragrance of autumn on my dry land like bright rain. In August in my hometown, your gold-plated cover, colorful illustrations and colorful, rich and substantial words brought me much joy, childlike interest and time! Hometown, do you remember? Remember that little hairy monkey running barefoot on the sand road? Remember that naughty boy who stole Zizyphus jujuba from the branch in August and cut his clothes and his little finger? Hometown, do you remember? When I was a child, I often used the ignorance of adults to get into the dense farmland, lie in the furrow and look at the blue sky through layers of leaves. The adults were anxious and looked around, and the village echoed with the long shouts of mothers. However, we just refused to come out, sucking hard with our small noses, the smell of ripe crops, the frankincense of the earth, the loving and anxious call of our mother ... hometown, do you remember? My children and I like to sit in the car pulling crops. The cart with iron wheels pulls a golden cart, which is full of joy, wobbly, creaking and singing happy songs. The driver's uncle's whip is really loud, like setting off firecrackers in the New Year. What's even more interesting is the long bullwhip with a beautiful red tassel tied to its tip. The flagpole is dangling, and the red tassel is like a burning bird, ....................................................................................................... I fell asleep in a daze. I want to dream of my mother's loving smile; I would like to dream of my nephew's sweet cry; I would like to dream of a cage hanging on the branch of an old jujube; When I chew "sweet stalks" in the corn field, I will dream of my childhood ... The car crossed the Yellow River Bridge and the roar of steel shocked me. I opened my eyes, and the faint twilight had enveloped vilen. Oh, at this moment, is the mother standing under the big poplar tree at the head of the village or sitting in front of the stove to prepare dinner for her son? Did the evening breeze mess up her pale hair, or did the fire reflect her wrinkled cheeks? Ah, in another hour, I can be a good son of Jiao Jiao, although I am the father of two sons ... my heart is eager. I seem to hear the call of my hometown-the waves that the river sings with; Poplar uses Lang Lang's autumn rhyme; The red dates hidden in the branches and leaves are sweet and shy; Pomegranate hanging on the branch with its charming smile; The mouth of the hut in the company commander's yard is calling, with the fragrance of grain and the feelings of loving mother ... [Essay] The Siberian wind in snow dream brings light rain and flowers bloom. In this northern winter, I wander alone in the snow, through the sad space, towards the last cycle of the season. Today, the town finally waited for another long-awaited snowfall. Butterfly-like snowflakes dance gently, bringing the unique scenery of this season. She came lightly, she came slowly, and she came without makeup and gauze. This winter's elves have come to dress up our world. Can winter be called winter without snow? Wherever her skirt goes, the snowy plain is as quiet as a virgin, the snowy peaks are cold, the Yushu Qionghua is in full bloom, and the air is particularly gentle. Under her gentle comfort, all the restlessness began to subside, and the earth was quiet and peaceful, just like a baby sleeping in its mother's arms. In this world of silver makeup, this dazzling whiteness eclipses the sky. In this quiet white, what impetuous worries are we unable to let go? When our restless hearts calm down, we can feel how colorful the falling snowflakes are. What kind of flowers in the world can be as atmospheric as snowflakes? What kind of flowers can be as chic as snowflakes? "Like the strong wind in spring, it blows at night and blows open the petals of ten thousand pear trees"-this is the brilliance of snow; "Northland scenery, thousands of miles frozen, Wan Li snow floating, looking at the inside and outside of the Great Wall, and I am boundless, the river rises and falls, I lost the surging"-this is the spectacular snow; "The window contains autumn snow in Xiling, at the gate of Wu Dong Wan Li boating"-this is the beauty of snow; "Wind and rain send spring home, flying snow welcomes the spring. It is already a cliff full of ice, and there are beautiful flowers "-this is the romance of snow; "There are no birds in a hundred mountains, and there are no footprints in a thousand paths"-this is the loneliness and seclusion of Xue. In fact, what I like best is "there is a ray of green in the old bottle and a trace of red in the quiet stove;" It feels like snow outside at dusk. How about a glass of wine inside? " This artistic conception. Two old friends, sitting around a small red stove in a thatched cottage with low clouds at dusk, asked questions in a warm and concerned voice. Only now.