Composition about the taste of love 800 words 1
There are many flavors, all of them, but there is only one-the taste of love.
One pleasant afternoon, I looked out of the window, and there was a breeze blowing outside the window, which reminded me of my grandmother. In my childhood memories, I clearly remember that at that time, my parents were very busy at work and had no time to take care of me. My grandmother brought me up since I was a child, and she really cared and loved me for ten years. When I think of this, I will think of the scene of living with my grandmother when I was a child. I'm really happy.
With grandma. I went to the garden to water and loosen the soil with her during the day and did a lot of work. If I am tired, grandma will catch a little caterpillar to tease me, and sometimes grandma will tell stories about the little caterpillar, which makes me laugh. I will also help my grandmother massage to relax her, so I spent a happy afternoon with my grandmother in the vegetable garden.
Grandma has a pair of hands, thin and rough. I was seven years old that year, and the Spring Festival was coming soon. The weather was very cold. I happened to see grandma knitting in the room once. I wanted to go in and have a look, so my mother called me, but I didn't see it. The night before the Chinese New Year, I slept with my grandmother, who would tell me stories and put me to sleep. In the middle of the night, I felt I had to go to the toilet, so I got up and saw my grandmother looking at a small lamp, still knitting in her hand. I saw a pair of red gloves with my name sewn with purple thread. When I take a closer look, I can see that grandma has several wounds cut by needles on her hands. I am very distressed by my grandmother's hand, and I am even more distressed by her old body, fearing that she can't stand it. I didn't go to the bathroom. I don't want grandma to find out that I saw a surprise from her. I went back to sleep.
Early in the morning, I heard firecrackers outside. I get up, go to wash and put on new clothes. I see a good breakfast every year, and after breakfast. Grandma went to her room. I think she must have gone to get me the deputy condom, hehe.
Grandma came out of the room with a small box in her hand and handed it to me. Grandma said, open it. I opened it. This is a glove made by my grandmother. I can't wait to start. I gave grandma a warm hug. I said to her, thank you, grandma. I love you forever.
I like my grandmother. When I was growing up, my grandmother gave me meticulous care and love. The taste of love is unique, which makes me more courageous. The taste of love, grow with me.
Composition about the taste of love 800 words 2
The ebb and flow of the years. The place where the tide rises is the new self, and the place where the tide falls is the memory of the soul. Homesickness and melancholy are like wine getting stronger and stronger, and the thick paste is in the heart.
Years turn pages, looking for the taste of love.
At that time, I was not 10 years old, and I stayed in the country to experience life with my grandmother. The morning light disturbed the new mulberry, and the breeze rolled up the fallen flowers and passed through the cloister. The first ray of sunshine in the morning passed through the branches and fell on grandma's face. I turned to my grandmother and said, "Grandma, I want to eat your jiaozi, can I?" Grandma wiped the dust off the tip of my nose and smiled and said to me, "Good! Grandma is cooking for you now, but you must be obedient! " I smiled.
Grandma led me into the vegetable garden, pulled out some sweet potatoes and put them in the basket. I picked up the sweet potato, put it on my nose and took a deep breath. Mmm, it smells good. This sweet potato smells like grass and new soil. It smells delicious. Then, grandma grinds the sweet potato into powder and puts it aside. Then, grandma took out a bundle of glittering vermicelli and a piece of pork from the refrigerator. She cooked vermicelli with lard. After the vermicelli is cooked and seasoned, serve it and let it cool. She took a knife and cut the pork into pieces, marinated it with cooking wine and soy sauce, fried it with vermicelli, covered the pot and stewed it for a while. When the pot is uncovered, I will lean forward and suck the fragrance. After these preparations, she sprinkled water and starch on the sweet potato powder, then kneaded the sweet potato powder into small balls, squashed them, put the pork noodles into the squashed balls bit by bit, wrapped them, kneaded them into a ball, and steamed them in a steamer for half an hour. Grandma was soaked with sweat after eating, but every time she steamed, she didn't taste it first, but took out one, blew it on her mouth and handed it to me. From time to time, I will smile like a flower, grab it and put it in my mouth. Delicious beyond description. From time to time, grandma always watches me finish eating, smiling and her eyes are full of love. The way she smiles, like a blooming chrysanthemum, like a ripple.
However, she can't keep me after all. I squeezed into the bustling big city and ate all the delicious food. I once thought about looking for my grandmother, but although I found it, it was always wrong. The pot in the old house is a cauldron; The fire in the old house is firewood; The sweet potatoes in my hometown are full of local flavor ... all these things can't be found in the city
Time is quiet and the years are green. May the fallen flowers remain intentional, and may the flowing water also have feelings. I would like to borrow a ray of sunshine to relive the most beautiful time and the taste of love.
Composition about the taste of love 800 words 3
"On the road of growing up, my mother always shared everything with me, both ups and downs." As I grew up, years carved cracks in the stone, trees recorded the time on the rings, and my mother's selfless and deep love was deeply imprinted in my mind. ...
One day on the weekend, my parents went to work. I got up late and was alone at home. Looking at the note left by my mother, telling me to go out for breakfast, I can't help but think of the breakfast my mother made me when I was a child: a dish of side dishes and a bowl of bright red bean porridge. I can't help but miss it, but now my mother is too busy ... I think about it and pick up my wallet to go out for breakfast.
I went to the breakfast shop downstairs, bought a red bean porridge and found a seat to taste it quietly. I drink porridge slowly. I haven't tasted porridge. I always feel that something is missing. I looked at the porridge in the bowl and saw scenes in my mind.
It was when I was young, "Mom, I'm hungry." I said to my mother. "Don't worry, it's almost ready." Mom said to me while she was busy. I was comforted to watch my mother pick beans in the bowl without looking up. I know my mother is going to cook my favorite red bean porridge.
Mother washed the beans carefully, and the clear water trickled down from her fingers. Those beans become shiny and watery after being washed with clear water, and the round beans are held in her hand like the round face of a child. Mother skillfully put the beans into the pot, and a hot air came over her face, hovering and spreading over her head. Her mother lifted the lid from time to time and looked at the beans in the pot. Every time I see my mother lift the lid, I can't help asking, "Mom, when will it be ready!" " "Mom patted me on the head while laughing." It'll be ready soon, it'll be ready soon. "Looking at the porridge boiling in the pot, my heart is like an ant on hot bricks. I am particularly eager to eat sweet and delicious food as soon as possible.
Finally, the porridge is cooked. My mother brought me a bowl, blew it on my lips and handed it to me. I couldn't help it and wolfed it down at once. My mother stood by and smiled and said to me, "You are impatient, don't burn yourself!" " "Mom wiped the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand and casually said," This red bean will taste better if it is cooked in porridge for a long time! ""I just ate steaming red bean porridge in my hand, and my face was filled with a heartfelt smile.
The memory is vaguely in front of me, and the red bean porridge in my hand is a little cold. I think the red bean porridge made by my mother is so sweet. This bowl in my hand can't compare with the red bean porridge made by my mother. Putting down the porridge in my hand, my tears fell: I haven't eaten the porridge cooked by my mother for a long time. At this point, I have a lot of thoughts. ...
Why is the red bean porridge cooked by my mother so delicious? I didn't realize until now that it was because my mother cooked porridge for me carefully, which was my mother's taste; That's because the porridge cooked by my mother is full of love, which is the taste of love.
Composition about the taste of love 800 words 4
What is the taste of love? Happy is sweet, wronged is sour, sad is bitter, and angry is spicy. ...
Love is sweet.
"Mao Mao-"The kitchen symphony rang again. I was surprised to explore the kitchen curiously. My mother is in charge of cooking and my father is a boy. They were as busy as a bee. My father saw my mother sweating like rain, so he took a towel to wipe her sweat. Mother smiled happily. Seeing such a warm scene, my heart is as sweet as eating honey. The original taste of love is sweet.
Love is sour.
Grandma is over seventy years old, but she looks radiant and full of energy, so she likes to worry about big and small things at home. On Saturday, grandma picked up the clothes she left at home. Dad saw it and said coldly, "mom, these clothes are going to be lost." Why did you put them away? " Grandma said with grievance, "It's not easy to make money if you lose the waste. Why do you want to throw away clothes that you can still wear? " Dad said angrily: "I don't want to lose anything, my home is almost a garbage room!" " "Grandma bowed his head in injustice. Seeing this, my heart is sour. It turns out that love is sour
Love is bitter
During the Spring Festival, our family went back to their hometown to visit their grandparents. Time flies. It's time to go home. We reluctantly bid farewell to our grandparents. At this time, grandma pulled her mother with tears and said, "Daughter! You seldom come back. This time, play for a few more days! " Mom said helplessly, "It's not that I don't want to play for a few more days, but that I'm busy at work!" " "Mom and grandma are here. I won't let anyone say anything you say. My heart suddenly felt sad like taking medicine. I thought: Why not take a step back? As the saying goes, "Take a step back and broaden the horizon"! It turns out that love is bitter.
Love is spicy.
One of my little cousins, I really love and hate. On this day, I was playing with my little cousin. Inadvertently, my little cousin fell down and burst into tears. My mother quickly heard the voice, thought it was my fault without saying anything, and then scolded me. And my little cousin just kept crying. I wanted to explain to my mother, but I knew that even if I jumped into the Yellow River, it wouldn't wash away. I suddenly felt as if I had eaten explosives and wanted to lose my temper. So love is spicy.
The taste of love is very strange, my friend. What is the taste of your love?
Composition about the taste of love 800 words 5
Standing in front of the window, I opened the beige curtain, and the sun shone lazily through the gap on an open space in the house, which was continuous and warm. There was a loud cry from the stall owner in front of the door: "Loquat is sold, delicious loquat ..." It can't help but evoke taste buds and awaken my buried memories.
In early summer, I went to visit my grandmother by bus. I haven't seen her for a long time. I don't know if she is well, and I don't know if the loquat tree in front of me is still flourishing. ...
Standing at that familiar and unfamiliar intersection, I saw grandma sitting on the low threshold from a distance, hunched back, and her rough hands were constantly kneading, which seemed to add a vicissitudes to her eyes. Seeing me, she immediately stopped her work and wiped her wet hands on the apron, laughing like the warm sunshine in winter. "Girl, come quickly." Grandma shouted eagerly. I ran to hug my grandmother, my thin body clung to my body and my heart was closely linked.
At the foot, the green flag was creaked by me. When I was a child, I always liked to play here. Grandma picked loquat and I watched quietly. "What, you want to eat loquat?" I was fascinated by it, and it took me a long time to hear grandma's words and nodded gently.
Grandma took a long bamboo pole and walked under the loquat tree, trying to reach the loquat with the bamboo pole. Grandma clasped the bamboo pole with both hands and stood on tiptoe, but she still couldn't reach it. Grandma is so short? Grandma looks so helpless in front of this tree. The corners of my eyes can't help getting wet. "Grandma, let me help you!" Grandma turned her head and smiled. "No, just standing there. Beware of bugs falling. " Then he turned his head, held his head high and devoted himself to playing loquat.
This loquat tree is like a huge green umbrella, hiding loquat in it, revealing only a little beautiful image. Grandma's silver silk fluttered in the wind, and her hand holding a bamboo pole trembled slightly. Grandma's thin body is like a very light piece of paper, which will float away if she is not careful ... My tears can no longer be suppressed, and my eyes are full and flow into my mouth along my cheeks. Loquat in Huang Chengcheng falls with fallen leaves.
Grandma picked up some loquat, wiped it on the apron, turned and handed it to me: "Try it quickly, it's fresh!" " "I quickly wiped away my tears and picked up one that was sour and sweet in my mouth." Grandma, try it, too. "I peeled one and put it in grandma's mouth. Grandma smiled and the wrinkles spread. The air is filled with sweet taste, and the taste of love is rippling in my heart.
"Buy loquat ..." My mind was pulled back by the vendor, I took a deep breath, bought a little, and tasted it again. The loquat tree was still lush, but the people under it didn't know where to go. ...
Flowers bloom and fall, clouds roll and clouds relax, things change and everything changes suddenly. Only the taste of love is eternal!
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