5th grade essay how to write a short story essay that happened between me and yuejihua

When you go to you, you have to do business, it's not good? *<3[ Santa Claus is sleeping.

1. Moon flowers.

2. Text I like the moon flowers, although the moon flowers are not as moving as the peony, nor are they as fragrant as the osmanthus flowers, but they are cute and delicate. Sweeping away the weakness of autumn chrysanthemums, the beauty of peonies, and the elegance of narcissus, smiling on the branches. Qin Yusun.

Whenever I am tired from studying, I will go up to the roof to see the flowers, and look at the garden full of life, and my heart feels very comfortable.

In spring, the moon flowers bloom, you see how lively and lush they are! Red, pink, white, orange, chain one by one, clusters, the wind exudes a faint fragrance that makes people refreshed. From a distance, some of the moon flowers look like a small pom-pom, some like a fireball, and some like a slim girl, shaking their bodies in the wind as if dancing ......

The drizzle is misty, and the moon flowers seem to be not afraid of the rain, and they still bloom on the branches, and the color is so pure, without a little variegation. The misty drizzle seems to have covered the moon flowers with a light veil.

The clouds dispersed, the rain stopped, and the sun gave off a brilliant light that shone on the moon flowers, and the crystal rain rolled on the petals like a pearl. Some of the buds of the shy little ruined girl are also blooming, and they are more energetic and more colorful than before against the backdrop of green leaves. At this time, a bee flew from afar and landed on the flower bud to collect honey.

What a beautiful painting!

Last night's restlessness accidentally turned out a bag of dried flowers, just smelling its breath, and in exchange for a night of sleeplessness, I don't know its name, it came so suddenly and quietly, just like when it was growing; I can't track the trace, as if it fell from the sky. When I was playing that year, it was so conspicuous lying on the huge playground, and tender buds and branches appeared in this undue season. I don't know if it's forgotten or waiting for ......Like everyone else, he turned a blind eye to the way he passed, but felt that every step was getting harder and harder, as if he had already tied a spring to his feet.

Finally, at the moment of reaching the limit, he rushed back to his side, and looked at it, and then looked at it, and it turned out that it was waiting for ......

I planted it on the side of the road in the yard. Its first spring came, and it was full of foliage. I've heard others say that it's also a flower, but it just doesn't bloom.

I only poured water on it occasionally, and it grew very quickly in silence, until one day I tripped over a branch that had grown into the middle of the road, and I realized that it was already very lush, and it needed time to take care of it. Watering, pruning, and getting rid of insects are not as complicated and boring as I imagined, on the contrary, my life has become happier. Slowly, appreciating it became an indispensable part of the daily routine, just like eating.

I've also grown up, and with that comes more worries. I had nowhere to vent but was confronted with this piece of wood, and every evening I brought my tools—scissors and knives—to tell it what was on my mind. If it is happiness, I will take a knife and circulate it around its roots—so that it will always remember happiness; If it's troubled, cut off a young leaf that has just grown – cut off the troubles and start over.

The second spring was coming to an end, and it was still full of leaves, and there was no shadow of flowers. My troubles are even worse. The scissors are dull, and it becomes bald in the spring.

While cutting off the last leaf, a bud hidden inside was found. I was delighted and spent a few laps around its roots with the rusty knife. The joy ended with the bud falling, and only two days before it was carried away by the wind and rain before I could think of what it would look like when it bloomed.

It withered, getting worse day by day, I watered, desperately watered, and there was still no trace of relapse. I gave up completely. I picked up some of the leaves that belonged to it, looked at the marks of happiness again, and counted them, and there were only nineteen in all.

Then he left, with a handful of troubles ......

Later, I learned that it was a rare variety of Yueji, and one of its branches was grafted by a person with a lot of effort (the man tried to steal it when I planted it), and it also bloomed, and it was very beautiful. The rest was lit by a fire from the children, and it was full of dust and smoke, and it was scattered in every corner of my yard......