Flowers blooming in time by Zhou Liwen
"Tick-tock, tick-tock" the clock made a faint sound. At this time, there was no movement outside the window, and only the water pen quickly scratched across the paper. A crackling sound. It was approaching 12 o'clock, and I was still writing furiously, and my eyelids were about to collapse.
Mom sat at the table and waited quietly without making a sound. The corners of my mother's eyes were slightly red, and her originally bright eyes were now covered with red bloodshot eyes. A teardrop was hanging on her eyelids, as if she was holding on to exhaustion and accompanying me to do my homework. At this time, my mother was more than usual. I feel a lot more haggard, and I feel a little guilty.
"What would you like to eat tomorrow morning?" A gentle word "awoke" me from my "half-asleep" state. "Whatever, I'm fine with it, I kind of want to eat steamed buns." I answered. "That's okay!" Mom readily agreed to me.
"Ding-ding-ding-" I was woken up by the alarm! When I opened my eyes, it was already morning. I walked to the kitchen in a daze, only to find that there was no one there. Outside the window, there was a drizzle, and there was no sunshine. The whole house seemed a little dim. I thought my mother was cleaning the room, so I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth without paying much attention. Everything was ready, but my mother hadn't appeared yet. I started to feel a little worried and anxious, so I looked around, feeling a little bit of nervousness spreading in my heart.
"Mom, Mom" ??I shouted anxiously, but I never heard my mother's response. At that moment, the door to the house suddenly opened, and a figure appeared at the door. I took a closer look and saw that it was my mother.
Mom was breathing heavily, and white mist filled the air; there were a few raindrops on her hair mixed with white silk; her shoulders wearing a cotton-padded jacket were also wet by the rain, Looking a little embarrassed.
"Where have you been so early in the morning?" I yelled at my mother in a reproachful tone. "Didn't you say you wanted to eat steamed buns last night? I also wanted you to sleep a little longer, so I went out and bought them for you." Mom seemed a little aggrieved and silently handed the steaming steamed buns to me. The moment I reached out to take the bun, my heart was filled with turmoil. I silently regretted it in my heart and reflected on my behavior just now.
"Okay, let's go! We're going to be late for school!" Mom said. Mom didn't seem angry, nor did she want to blame me, as usual. I followed her silently, feeling that my mother's shadow seemed much taller, like an elegant daisy, slowly blooming in my heart inadvertently.
Sitting in the car, I opened the outer bag of the buns and took a bite, ah! So delicious. I think this taste should not only be the taste of the buns themselves, but also the taste of deep maternal love. I really want to put this taste in a bottle, hide it in an unknown corner, and enjoy it alone.
The taste of maternal love is so ordinary, but it hides an indescribable beauty. It is like a beautiful flower in spring, blooming unscrupulously in my time, making my Time is full of happiness, colorful and endless aftertaste!
After the rain, the sky clears, and the sun shines through the gaps in the clouds, shining directly into the bottom of my heart, and directly towards the flower that has been blooming for a long time in my heart and will never wither!
Flowers that bloom in time? Second day of junior high school (11) Xiang Xi
In the afternoon, sit quietly and listen to the rain. The pattering of rain is just like before, gentle and continuous. In a trance, as if seeing, the sun is hazy, and suddenly it is colorful. But those fleeting flowers are actually a glimpse, faint and blooming at the end of time.
It is raining, bit by bit, accompanied by the gentle breeze blowing on my face. It feels like the past, but not as good as before. In a trance, something is hazy and confused. "Human faces don't know where to go, but the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze." You know, what has been wasted in these years?
? It’s fruity.
? In my grandma’s house, there are always melon seedlings and persimmon trees. Summer is long, but full of fruity aroma. In the early morning, I stood in the field, nuzzled my nose, and the earthy sweetness filled my whole chest.
When it rains, my always busy grandpa also has time to rest. He holds a big orange bamboo umbrella and a bamboo basket and goes to the fields to pick melons. He patted the melon carefully, which was very musical, and played with the drizzle of rain, performing a simple and charming music. Seeing this, I thought: The sound of the pipa, which has been famous throughout the ages, can be compared to the sound of this pure land. "Noisy, noisy, mixed bullets, big and small beads falling on the jade plate." Listen, it's not enough.
After picking the melon, he always washes it with clean water. Holding the melon and applying a little force with his fingers, the melon breaks into two halves. The golden juice flows down the grooves in his palm and disperses in the air. , sweetened the whole memory. Thinking about it again, it’s all a honey with curved eyebrows. The whole family gathers around the table, listening to the sound of rain, smelling the fragrance of melons, talking and laughing, which is the freedom of young people who are not sad for spring and not hurt by autumn. Like flowers, the light fruity fragrance will be imprinted at the end of time.
It’s smoke.
? Grandma’s family is in the countryside and she is accustomed to using earthen stoves. In the evening after a tiring day, there will always be smoke from the kitchen. The sunset is colorful on the horizon, and with the smoke and the breeze, a fragrant flower is blooming in the sky.
There is little drizzle, it is misty everywhere, and the smoke from the kitchen has faded, but it still falls on the ground and water with the wind and rain, covering the whole world with the aroma of the smoke.
This is a home, no matter the wind blows or the rain hits, there is always smoke from the kitchen.
The smoke and farmhouses are like flowers, blooming in the wind and dust. With calmness and freedom, I am full of energy and my confused life. Yes, what is it? In the end, I returned home in a dream, leaving only the spring breeze of my childhood. Looking back, looking out the window, the drizzle blurred everything, like a mirage dream, and I seemed to see a house with smoke curling up, surrounded by the fragrance of fruit, standing in the distance.
I always recall that the rural life in my childhood was not as good as the arrogance and flamboyance of the young man wearing bright clothes and angry horses, but it was also brighter than the passing years, and the memories were splendid. But in the end, with a sudden glance like falling red, it gradually drifted away from me.
But, it doesn’t matter, those bits and pieces of rural memories will eventually bloom in my time like eternal flowers, forever and ever.
Flowers blooming in time Wu Zhe
Time flies, time passes, and the beauty of the past is beginning to disappear. I can only slowly look for the flowers blooming in time deep in my heart. flowers inside. ——Inscription The first ray of light shines softly into the alley, pushing open the door of time, and the original tranquility is suddenly broken. I stood at the entrance of the alley for a long time, with the scent of osmanthus in the air. I looked at the owner who opened the door of the shop and the crowds of people coming.
? Flowers are hidden in time, exuding a rustic smell of fireworks.
? From far away, the store entrance will always recall the resonant voice of Master Huang, accompanied by a long shout: "Traditional food, you are welcome to try it." The voice ripples through the time with the fragrance, bursting with vitality. and confidence, awakening people who are still sleeping and tempting their taste buds. The store manager, Master Huang, loves traditional delicacies, and the sweet-scented osmanthus cake is a refreshing addition to the feast.
Master Huang is very warm to others, and his enthusiasm is covered by a yellow apron. He calls regular customers "old friends", and if he is new, he calls out "welcome, welcome". Whenever I come to his store, he will greet me cordially. When he hears the three words "old friends" When I heard the word, I proudly raised my head, entered the store under the gaze of others, ordered an osmanthus cake, and found a quiet and comfortable place to sit down.
Master Huang leaned down and kneaded the glutinous rice dough vigorously. The sun's rays shone through his fingertips, and the flowers bloomed when he rubbed them. He moved lightly, unhurriedly, and hummed a light tune. Repeatedly kneading Master Huang's forehead, a few drops of sweat showed through, reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun. Add the sweet-scented osmanthus and steam it for a while. The faint aroma comes out of the steamer and fills your arms.
From eight o'clock in the morning to five o'clock in the evening, there was an endless stream of people in the shop. People from the small town packed away the sweet delicacies, leaving behind the fragrance of flowers, smiles and satisfaction. As the sun set, Master Huang, a master of craftsmanship, saw off the last wave of guests. The wind at the entrance of the alley blew against our faces with the heat of the setting sun, caressing every working person, wiping away their sweat and sending endless blessings. The sun shines through the clouds, spreading its compassion across the vast land. The generous earth opens its soft embrace, bringing warmth to everyone who is shedding sweat and blooming flowers with labor.
After bypassing the old alley and turning into the alley, I came to this familiar alley again. I walked slowly on the stone slabs at the alley, as if I was reminiscing about the past. Through the half-open wooden door, I could see the distant scenery. The familiar scent of osmanthus came from everywhere again.
In my memory of time, he is like a blooming flower that never withers.