Essay When the spring flowers are blooming, I am jumping in the flowers , help!!!

Cut, it's not simple, you can write a story-based essay, such as designing yourself as a butterfly or a bee, isn't it very right, and then spoof yourself to write that you are a maverick fly, the teacher wants to ask if there is a fly that likes flowers, just tell him (her), anyway, among the known flies, it seems that the flies in Sweden live like bees.

It's just writing about the scenery of spring.

The flowers on our balcony are very beautiful, but the camellia flowers are the most vigorous now.

The leaves of the camellia are not easy to thank, sometimes they are too yellow, and they fall, but it will not fall all the way, only part of it. When spring comes, it will grow new leaves, those leaves are so tender, it is very comfortable to look at, and after the mother's watering, those leaves are rolling with crystal water droplets, which looks very beautiful.

There is a flower bone between the four leaves on the branch, and their pale green skin resembles a green coat. When the camellia is in full bloom, the bright petals surround the golden stamens, giving off a faint aroma. It actually attracted a few bees, and they were singing, dancing, and collecting honey on the flowers, and they had a great time.

The edges of the leaves have many serrations, and they are still a little prickly to the touch.

The stem of the camellia is very thick, silvery-gray, and after being treated with water, it turns crimson, so I nicknamed its stem ---chameleon.

Zhou Dunyi loves lotus, Tao Yuan Ming loves chrysanthemum, I like camellia, not only appreciate its beauty, but also admire it for not being afraid of the cold.

Is it an essay about spring?

Tianjing sand. Autumn Thoughts.

Withered vines, old trees, faint crows.

I've come all the way here, and I'm struggling here; This is my landscape, leaving your world, like a green vine withering and aging. There is no more spreading youth to burn. I am like rain, and you are the migratory bird, which has always been accustomed to sense my arrival and quickly hide; You are like the wind, and I am a drifting cloud, and every fantasy is shattered by meeting you.

I am a vine, always want to entangle you with my thoughts and love, and you are not the majestic old tree, willing to connect with me with the same root, the faint crow that flies away is another expression of you to me.

Small bridges and flowing water.

Thin trickle, clear and clear, twists and turns.

You and I are separated from each other, and the water and the letter are connected. In a few words, how can it be so thoughtful?

The bridges are connected, the friendship is strong, and it is the joy of the eyebrows.

The festive people on both sides of the strait, the house is full of red, how can you be jealous? Guarding the token, where is Nian You?

The stream sustenance of thoughts, running into the distance, day and night. This thought, how can you be so worried?

Ancient road west wind thin horse.

I raised my whip and continued in the footsteps of my previous life. The ruins of the ancient road are still there, and the weeds have covered the way. Looking into the distance, the future is boundless, ** is my home?

The wind was blowing in my hair, as if it had been centuries, so familiar. As the sun sets, stretching my east-facing figure, loneliness is not with me, and the lean horse is bent down to nibble on the vines of the esophagus. Only by firming up my pace can I look for your dawn in the direction of the wind.

The sun is setting, and the heartbroken man is at the end of the world.

The sunset is so beautiful, yet so short. Just like life, it is short and beautiful. Sometimes people can grasp and control everything, but only emotions control people.

What is love, what is love? Because there is no answer, go and look for it. The person who found the answer was broken, drifting to other places, until he was lonely and old, but he still talked about that ageless love.

Looking at the crows at dusk, they are looking for dead vines and old trees to perch on, and up close, they see people living with small bridges and flowing water, and only a thin horse carrying a wandering wanderer in front of them, slowly moving on the ancient road of autumn wind. Seeing that the afterglow of the sunset has already dimmed, the disemboweled people who are wandering outside are wandering the world.

A few withered vines wrapped around a few bald trees with withered yellow leaves, trembling in the autumn wind, and a few jackdaws in the sky ...... their voiceswrote a bleak and desolate autumn scene, creating a bleak and declining atmosphere, highlighting the sadness in the author's heart. We can imagine how miserable and helpless it must have been when the crow can still have an old tree to return to, but the wanderer is adrift and has no home! Next, there is a small bridge in front of you, gurgling water, and a small farm yard with smoke faintly curling.

This kind of idyllic scene where people live in peace is so quiet and sweet.