One night in the summer, the stars twinkled in the sky, the cool breeze dispelled the residual heat of the day, and the earth was silent. Below are the classic prose works describing summer that I bring to you for your appreciation.
Part 1 of a classic prose work describing summer: Summer in Memory
The bright moon scares the magpies, and the breeze sings the cicadas in the middle of the night. The fragrance of rice flowers means a good harvest. Listen to the sound of frogs. There are seven or eight stars in the sky, two or three points of rain in front of the mountain.
Come on. In the passionate summer, the dewdrops on the flowers in the morning are her passionate tears, the rising sun is her smile when she is happy, the sunshine at noon is her ferocity when she is angry, and the breeze under the shade of the trees is her coquettish singing. . Many girls prefer summer because it is a season of beauty and passion. Walking on the streets in summer, women wearing colorful dresses of different styles are like a flowing landscape. It is not an exaggeration to use the words "lively, fragrant, and elegant" to describe them.
In the summer in my memory, impatiens bloomed in my heart accompanied by the bright moonlight. Strings of red and white flowers hung on the green leaves like wind chimes. My sister was so beautiful. She picked off the crimson impatiens, mashed them, added cigarette foam and alum, put them on her fingers, wrapped them with a large plant leaf, and waited a few days before opening them. Ten hands The nails are bright red, which is more beautiful than wearing red nail polish, and it is also economical and environmentally friendly. ?The shade of green trees lasts for a long time in summer, and the balcony reflects into the pond. ?It was also the scene of my summer at that time, and of course cicadas were indispensable. There is a pond behind my hometown, and there are willows beside it. In the summer, the cicadas hide among the trees and sing tirelessly. Especially during the lunch break, the chirping sound becomes louder. As time goes by, they gradually get used to it. Think of it as a lullaby, but without their accompaniment, I still feel lonely! The leaves of the willow tree flew with a gust of breeze, making a rustling sound, and some yellow leaves fell with the wind, falling on the clear pond, like Yellow dragonflies stand on the water. The fish in the pond moved when they heard the wind, thinking that some delicious food had been delivered to them. With a swoosh, they put their heads out of the water, and then circled around the willow leaves, playing and chasing each other so happily! The catkins were floating in the air, as if they were falling. A gentle rain of sunshine.
The peaches on the peach tree in front of the grandpa’s house next door are ripe. Each one is plump and round, but the top of the green skin is rouge-like red, like the smiling face of a shy little girl. What we see is I salivate, but I don’t dare to pick it, after all, it’s not my own. The younger brother slept naked under the peach tree, waiting like a rabbit for a gust of wind to blow down the ripe peach, and took the opportunity to grab it in his hand. It was really interesting to think about it now. The pears behind my house are also ripe. They are green-skinned pears, juicy and sweet, with a refreshing fragrance. The tomatoes grown on the trellis are also ripe, like little red lanterns. They are so cute that people can’t bear to taste them. The flowers of the morning glory that grow around the pear tree look like small trumpets, so people also call them "trumpet flowers". The morning glory in my impression is purple and pink. The petite and exquisite flowers stand facing the sun in colorful colors. Bathed in the morning sunshine, they become more and more graceful. The unknown morning glory is like a wild lily growing in the valley. No one cares about it, but it is content with itself. We who are busy in the world of mortals every day are probably like these ordinary and simple morning glory flowers. Only we know the beauty of the past. Even if it is insignificant, we still work hard to bloom again and again, supported by the subtle fragrance. We will never look back and stride forward.
? The bright moon scares the magpies on the branches, and the cicadas chirp in the breeze in the middle of the night. The fragrance of rice flowers tells of a good harvest, and the sound of frogs sounds. ?Most like the quiet country nights in summer. A tall bright moon hangs above the ancient locust tree, and a gentle breeze blows. The old man who is celebrating wine can't wait to warm a pot of moonlight to drink wine. Under the starry sky all over the sky, fireflies emit silvery white light, twinkling and shining, composing a romantic, colorful and tender chapter for the summer night. We chased fireflies, found a transparent glass bottle, and put the caught fireflies into the bottle. A single spark can start a prairie fire, and the light emitted by the fireflies gathered together can really light up our way home. The moored boat lay quietly in the middle of the river, which reminded me of the artistic conception of "No one can cross the river in the wild". The sound of frogs sounded in my ears one after another from far to near, from near to far, like playing lullabies to accompany me into a clear dream.
The most unforgettable thing was when I was in the third grade of elementary school. I went to a neighboring school with my parents, and we were very close to a girl in the class. After so many years, I can no longer remember what that girl looked like. She seemed to be a very fair and elegant girl. That summer, I often followed her home after school at noon. There was a small river in front of her house. The blue sky and white clouds were reflected in the river pond, and groups of fish were swimming freely in the clear river pond. , very comfortable.
We rolled up our trousers and stood by the pier of the river pond. A cool feeling surged up from the soles of our feet. We lowered our heads and murmured softly to the little fish. From time to time, small fish slid gently under our feet, tickling the soles of our feet. Looking up and looking at the clear blue sky studded with white clouds, this is the true harmonious coexistence between man and nature. Looking back now, that summer was still beautiful, and that river pond was also the most beautiful river pond I have ever seen.
The rainbow on the clear sky after the rain, the red dragonfly in the sunset, the majestic lobster, the cotton as white as snow... these all decorate the summer in my memory. The summer in my memory is like a timeless and beautiful poem, which treasures my countless magnificent dreams. Every time I remember that the world is crystal clear, and the heaven and earth become extremely gentle and open. Part 2 of a classic prose work describing summer: This Summer
The afternoon sunlight casts dapples through the glass window in front of the desk, the insects struggling desperately on the ground, the roar of the air conditioner outside the window, the looping of singles on the computer Song. Cars are speeding by on the highway, and the air is slowly steaming, as if you can see the slow flow of time.
There will always be a period of time every summer when the weather is sultry and sweltering, and the hot and humid vapor in the air sticks to the body, giving people the illusion of mold. On a sunny day, in addition to people going to work and whizzing by with frowns on the streets, there are only devout children going to cram schools. I remembered that many years ago I foolishly led a monotonous life of commuting between school and home. I don’t know how many wheel marks were printed on the short road, and I don’t know how many of them overlapped.
I haven’t seen much of the towering poplar trees at the corner of the street, their buds and fallen leaves.
Sometimes the clouds are thick and there is no sunshine but it is extremely oppressive. People know that this is usually a precursor to heavy rain. Residents in twos and threes gathered under the big trees with big cattail fans to enjoy the cool air. Old people who couldn't bear the loneliness were drinking tea leisurely under the arbor on the street. They chatted and raised their heads from time to time. They didn't know when the rain would stop. Next time, it seems that life has new hope. The strong wind blew overwhelmingly, there were a few muffled thunders, and huge raindrops struck down. The people who had been sick before took a deep breath and suddenly became active. They protected their heads with their hands and hurried home, with relaxed joy in their expressions. A few windows facing the street were quietly opened, and the housewives looked at the rain all over the sky with joy in their eyes. Children from each family stretched out their little hands through the gaps to catch the water columns flowing from the eaves in the corner, shouting happily, greeting their friends across the street, and telling jokes that only the other party could understand.
This summer has been particularly rainy. It rained every two days, and most of the rest were cloudy. Even the hottest period didn’t seem so difficult. The fierce typhoon at the end of July seemed to ruin the entire summer.
This summer is almost all at school. I like to go to a small shop in front of the school to have dinner, because there are several tuberoses in the flower bed in front of the shop. Every time at this time, a rich fragrance will be emitted, mixed in the night, as if it was the smell when I was a child, when my mother called for dinner. The vines that had been cut back in the school auditorium and teaching building due to the renovation in the spring are gradually showing signs of recovery, and are densely crawling all over the corners. In a few springs, they may return to their former appearance of covering the walls.
Beginning of Autumn has passed, and there have been several heavy rains, and you can already feel a cool breath. Although it still feels hot when there are no clouds in the sky, the unbearable sticky feeling in midsummer is no longer there. The school lawn has grown crazily after being nourished by this summer's water vapor. There are also a few weeds growing sporadically in the gaps between the floor tiles in dormitories, teaching buildings and streets. It makes the already somewhat old school look a little deserted.
The lawnmower roared past, leaving a section of grass stem close to the ground. After this pruning, I am afraid it will not grow much more this season. Grass clippings were flying, and the midday sun showed a little bit of yellow. The grass juice evaporates, mixed with the smell of earth, and a smell of autumn hits your face. The school seemed empty, and the sky seemed much higher when I looked up.
Summer is over. The start of the school year is approaching and school renovations are coming to an end. The road was paved with black asphalt, which gradually became thicker after several days of trampling. The leaves of the French paulownia tree on the roadside have begun to fall, and they are scattered here and there. When the autumn wind blows, it will be a different scene. Part 3 of the classic prose works describing summer: The Romance of Summer
I love the passionate summer.
I love the wilderness full of vitality and hope, and I love the tall and beautiful mountains. I love the melodious singing of birds in summer; I love the peaceful scenery of dense jungles; I love the green seedlings on the black soil; I love the smiles of the rushing river.
I like the falling rain in summer, which cleans the world spotlessly, nourishes the seedlings, and moistens the mountains. I like the freshness of roses, the beauty of roses; I like the warmth of summer, the romance of summer...
The leaves grow crazily, the flowers bloom to their heart's content, and the green spreads in the river of the season.
The warm wind is passionate, kissing the mountains and rivers intoxicatingly picturesque; the drizzle is lingering, and the charming poems are moving!
Mountains are the mother of water, clouds are the lovers of the wind, beautiful summer, is the brocade thrown by the fairy , decorating the world with colorful colors!
Listen, the songs of the birds are so melodious; look, the trees in summer are growing vigorously, with branches and leaves holding hands hand in hand; I love every weak and tenacious life in the deep forest; I love the clear streams flowing happily in the canyons and mountains.
The gorgeous sunset colors the jungle; as the morning sun rises, the sunlight fills the ravines and forests. The emerald-like peaks and mountains stand majestically in the clouds; the snow-white morning mist like colorful silk gently dances on the top of the cliffs. In the tranquility, let your body and mind blend into this green wilderness; let your thoughts fly and let your true feelings accompany this silent vast mountain. ?
In the evening of summer, the distant mountains are covered with daisy, and the sunset is gorgeous; the mist is soft, and the smoke is curling up...
The songs of cicadas are like the overture of the movement, and the valley streams carry the wonderful scenery. The notes are played lightly; the frogs chirp like gentle harmonies, and the gulls and herons sing softly like pearls scattered on a jade plate. The birds sing, the sound of the Dantian, the percussion of the woodpeckers, this mountain turns to that mountain...The music is like flowing clouds and flowing water, and sometimes it is as pale as the moonlight...endless tenderness, endless chants.
Nature plays passionate melody wantonly, and the summer movement resounds throughout the mountains.
Clear lake water, passionate blue sky, beautiful summer, magnificent rivers and mountains!
Listen quietly to the "sound of nature", smile and watch the brilliant sunset; the sound of cicadas and the singing of birds merge into a beautiful quatrain: Flat, flat, flat, like the song of life, written in the mountains, drunk in the heart...