A folded flower essay, ask for an essay about flowers

Essay on writing flowers.

Said with flowers. Spring, summer, autumn and winter, the flowers of the four seasons embellish life, which is the most beautiful scenery in life. Large and small, thick or light, elegant or charming, different fragrances, each with its own style.

When the spring flowers blow the first trumpet, all kinds of flowers also rush to reflect the scenery of each season. From magnificence to starry. From the garden greenhouse, all the way to the moat wilderness.

Each flower has a language, and those gorgeous peonies, lotuses, chrysanthemums, plum blossoms, etc. are all frequent visitors to the pen of literati and ink writers. These gorgeous flowers have attracted the attention of thousands of people, and they have bloomed life so beautifully that there are many applause and cheers. But those tiny grasses, flowers, and even moss in the dark and damp places will not be willing to be lonely, and strive to release the most beautiful side of their lives.

Bloom your own green. No matter whether anyone appreciates it or not, whether anyone pays attention to it, as long as you remember that you are the only one in this world, you have your value, and no one can replace you.

Counting the time of the passing years, whether it is prosperous or dry, people can no longer go back. Let life be like tea and wine, there are plain languages and heroic, you can be charming in the south of the Yangtze River, and you can also sing in the desert. Where to learn to rejoice in silence and meditate in joy.

Can endure, can bloom, just like a flash in the pan, even if the time is very short, it is still open at night, no one comes to stop, it is also the most beautiful face.

You are the only flower, with your flower language. That's a lot of love in the heart.

Flowers frozen by the cold wind.

At the end of autumn, the air and sunlight seem to change suddenly, the "breath of life" is draining, and the surrounding scenery is getting worse and worse. A cold rain, the withered yellow of the grass and trees spread with the wind, and the dampness exudes decay.

There is a patch of autumn chrysanthemum near the community. The other day it was bustling and lively, as if there was a noise—suddenly quiet. Most of the dry rods swayed slightly, falling into disarray, as if the characters performing on the stage were scattered at the end of the song, and they took off their costumes and left, entrusted to one place.

A few undead yellow flowers are still colored, the remnants of the petals are withered, like a lonely beauty has been looted, and they tell the passers-by what they are sad about, and shout to the surroundings with the speckled aftercolor, but the autumn wind swept away "these" with a bang.

The snow is coming. When the snow came, people had adapted to the desolation, and they had a tacit acquiescence to the slaughter, and "the white land is really clean" should be "heavenly principles". So I was very surprised to find the petals in the snow quilt - how could this be?

A rose-red flower peeks out of the snow with half a round of petals, and two frozen leaves hang from the green stem. The cold wind is blowing, the vision is white, and these colors are particularly eye-catching. The snow flower has been frozen, like wax, more like jade, translucent, hard and very "fake"; It's more like an unprepared beauty that suddenly meets a natural disaster and "solidifies" it in an instant.