Use characters and scenery to reflect the mood of the characters in a short essay of 300 words

In the early morning of winter, it is very lively. In Riverside Park, people exercising can be seen everywhere. In the vast mist, the figure kept shaking.

The young people were dressed like athletes, and they were all in good spirits. They were running and jumping, full of vigor and enthusiasm. The elderly also stepped out of the house, radiant stretching out their hands, kicking and jumping on the grass.

Don't look at them as old people, they are no worse than young people in sports, and they stubbornly fight against the biting cold. Look over there again, even.

Seven- and eight-year-olds also exercised with the adults, panting and steaming on their heads. Behold, what a vibrant winter!

I love winter because it sharpens one's will and makes one stronger. Winter is finally here!

Slightly, the hair flutters. Tilt your head slightly, look at the green leaves beside you, and listen to the rustling sound. The dark green color faded in front of my eyes, and slowly, in my mind, red flowers appeared.

I was reluctant to sing on the bluestone slabs, because the pitted surface was as devastated as the lost faith in my heart.

The straps of the bag made two thin marks on the shoulders, which were painful and heavy. Looking at the hanging sunset orange so close at hand, it seemed like it was about to melt and I wanted to shed tears. Are you crying for me?

I always say I'm going to work hard and get the same result next time. [This sentence could be deleted from the situation. ] ]

Always in the cold night air, dreaming of shrinking, dreaming of the bright arrival of spring, dreaming of the arrival of autumn, dreaming of thin people wiping tears on the last petals. So she smiled, and though her color was red from the cold, she still shrunk back.

I know the sprout of the little pink flower, and there will be spring after autumn; I also know the dream of falling leaves, spring or autumn.

Blowing through the dust, I gently, gently, in this season of clouds dyeing red half the sky.

In the evening, my father came home from work, probably busy with work, and he seemed tired, but he asked me despite his fatigue"Is the pen writing finished? ""Well.

I thought that"Well. "It's over, but I didn't expect my father to track it down to the end and said:"Give me a check. "After hearing this, my heart beat violently, and I thought that I couldn't hide it, so I had to tell my father the truth.

Dad said in a stern tone"How can you be so irresponsible for yourself? Don't think that practicing pen writing is not important, you must be serious about everything around you.

It's good that you admit your mistake, I forgive you, but I don't want it to happen next time. "I listened to my father's earnest words and thought, "Dad is right!"

I should be meticulous in everything I do, and today I really failed to live up to my father's expectations of me. So, I immediately consciously filled in the words that were not written. My dad is so strict with me, who doesn't feel happy to have such a good dad?