Shuttling through the bustling city, I have seen countless indifferent faces and countless tight skies. Stress keeps us moving forward, but are you really happy?

When we were young, the rainy season was often followed by the flower season. The hustle and bustle of the city, 3. 1 life ... put down the pen, stop in this fast-paced life, enjoy the missed scenery, and jump up happily in the flustered place. ...

The rice in the field is still green and has not been dyed golden yellow. There is a faint fragrance when picking ears, mixed with the fragrance of grass and earth. And cotton, dotted with white and brown cotton branches, is the last flower in autumn.

The smell of straw permeates into the nasal cavity, which is a unique taste. The children just took two bites of grass, squinted at the sky and said something irrelevant.

Several birds flew over the river, skimmed the treetops, then skimmed the rice fields and disappeared on the horizon of the distant village.

Walking in the village at dusk. This road is full of wild chrysanthemums and petite faces, but it is full of rural buildings. They bloom quietly in obscurity, show stubbornness in weakness, and exude fragrance in autumn frost.

The setting sun is low, the cottages are scattered, the smoke is curling, and the chickens and dogs hear each other. Smoke from the stove rose from the chimney and soared into the sky. Teenagers are running after the smoke. Looking up, the clouds are so leisurely and leisurely, floating lazily, not in a hurry or rashness, and continuous. There are one or two white clouds resting on the roofs of many people, so the whole village is wrapped in clouds. Space spirit. Go all the way, see all the way. Dense green trees, blue sky and white clouds.

In the small courtyard, an old woman was sitting on a bamboo chair, laughing softly, and all the flowers, skirts and hair fell. Accidentally started the birds that stopped falling, and the frightened birds suddenly flew into the air and disappeared in an instant. ...

People in the village passed by and greeted with a smile, which was very kind. That mellow and simple face, stained with the wind and frost of the years, is full of the light of Ying Ying.

In the wild, people attack Tsing Yi and wear oblique hats. Xu Lai, whose sleeves are swinging from side to side, is really like a hermit who doesn't care about the world.

The simple and natural people in the village have occupied a very shallow corner of my heart. I must learn to enjoy life and relax. Everything in this village gives me a heartfelt joy and satisfaction.

Climbing to the mountain behind the house, the high sky, lined with steep mountain shapes, fiery red trees and rustling red leaves warmed my heart and awakened my happy heart. ...

extreme

At first sight, my heart jumped with joy.

At present, the profound Chinese characters are an ancient song that is slowly forgotten; Fresh and refined, it is a fading jasmine; The vivid shadow play is a declining family. Usually, because many traditional cultures and arts have disappeared, I can't help feeling disappointed. I hope these cultures can be passed down.

At that time, I was standing in the center of the engraving and printing hall of Yangzhou Shuangbo Museum, staring deeply at the craftsmen who were carving in front of me. He is about forty or fifty years old, with mottled hair and fair skin. He is wearing a dark Tang suit embroidered with a dark red dragon, which is very energetic. He just removed the blank part on the left side of the word, flipped it up and down, then held it in the shape of a fist with his right hand, grabbed the meat cleaver, removed the blank part on the left side of the word on the rotated block, and shook his wrist. Master's eyes are deep and his expression is focused, as if he were talking to woodcuts. A few minutes later, when the handwriting was carved, he looked up and told me that this process was "picking a knife".

Unconsciously, the surrounding tourists gradually gathered, the atmosphere was warm, and my heart was full of joy.

The master took out the ground ink and dipped it in the palm broom. Suddenly, the faint ink mixed with the taste of the palm made me intoxicated. The master grabbed the brown broom stained with ink and drew a circle on the lettering. This process is called "brushing and grinding" and requires a combination of ingenuity and feel. Because lighter ink will be uneven, heavier ink will destroy the layout and reduce the number of prints. He brushed the ink gently, and in a flash, I seemed to see a loving father combing his long hair for his lovely daughter. After painting ink, she took out a beige rice paper and printed it on the engraving. She grabbed a brown broom and brushed it repeatedly on the paper. The strength is heavier than brushing ink. Soon a Diamond Sutra was completed, with clear and beautiful handwriting and vivid pictures. He gave a satisfied smile. My heart beats faster and my heart is full of joy.

I think the word "printing" was born between printing and brushing. When I turned around, the visitors all nodded in praise, and even two foreigners were recording. I silently walked out of the exhibition hall, and my mouth rose involuntarily-the fire of Chinese civilization, endless!

At that time, I witnessed the spread of woodcut printing, one of the four great civilizations that passed through the Millennium, and my heart was full of joy.

Tisso

Clouds are light and the sky is high. Soft clouds, clusters, leisurely cage in the sky, soft as if you can tear them with your hands, but you can't bear to let them hang leisurely in the air. As if the sky had been washed, it was fresh, free from vulgarity, and it was a new blue painted by oil painting, well-proportioned, not too shallow, not too deep.

Gu Xiang's blue bricks are mottled. On both sides of the wall, there are traces left by years-dark green moss, vaguely covering the ancient wall. I stroked the vicissitudes of life with my hand, trying to smooth its folds. Ah, the haunted ancient town has appeared! My heart jumped, but I dare not disturb the dark moss. My jumping heart immediately calmed down and stopped touching the ancient wall. Leave it as it is and give others a chance to cheer.

Suddenly there is a sweet smell in the breath, green and tender, and a faint smell of wormwood. It smells really good. Sweetness comes at you, and the taste buds are hooked. It's not strong, but it haunts your temper. I couldn't resist the temptation, held back my inner joy and followed the fragrance.

The smell of mugwort comes from a family at the end of the alley. If it weren't for the smell of mugwort, I would never have found such a secluded place. The courtyard door is antique, so I am careful, for fear of inadvertently destroying the tranquility and elegance of the courtyard.

As soon as I looked up, the first thing I saw was a pair of agile and capable hands, pulling the glutinous rice balls back and forth. In this back and forth kneading, the dark green mugwort leaves gradually turned from shallow to dense, becoming emerald, turquoise and finally blue. Like the sky, pure, without any distractions. Skilled and gentle, I finally pinched the middle of the rice ball into a depression, just like my hand reluctantly left the ancient wall just now, trying to hold back the joy and waiting patiently for the moment of forming. Those big hands smoothed the folds formed by pulling back and forth, tasted them, scooped up a spoonful of sesame seeds, poured them into the depression, and skillfully wiped them with their hands, sealing the small mouth without a trace of tearing.

The hand stopped. I wondered, only then did I feel that I was "trespassing", and my face was flushed. I looked up apologetically and bumped into a kind grandmother, and my heart settled down. "Eat youth league?" Wu Nong's soft words came to my heart. "Just made it, try it!" Thank you for your kindness. I smiled and felt very excited, but I still couldn't resist the temptation. I picked up a green ball with my bare hands, as delicate as a work of art, and I couldn't bear to take a bite. What I hold in my hand is joy and happiness, not a green ball. Helpless, the green and tender fragrance of Artemisia argyi leaves, the greedy insects scurrying around, took the first bite, and the fragrance of Artemisia argyi leaves and the softness of glutinous rice intertwined, giving the taste buds enjoyment and pleasure, with endless aftertaste.

"Now there are not many green groups. That's what I like. I am too old to bite. " In the tone, general joy, half regret.

My heart is full of joy, not only because of the taste buds brought by the Youth League, but also because of my grandmother's generosity and her willingness to stick to this tradition. I also want to turn this joy into the pure fragrance of mugwort, protect it forever and pass it on.

Out of the yard, the sky is high and the clouds are light. Soft clouds seem to be telling something, the sky is still clear, but there is more joy and inheritance!

My heart is pounding with joy.

Article 4

Some people say that the hearts of teenagers, like buds born in March, stand on tiptoe and grow desperately in the wind. I do know that at a certain moment, the ovule hidden in the pearl quilt will also be caressed by the sun, trembling with joy and gratitude.

-inscription

A book, a meter of sunshine, a person and a corner of the land are enough.

Growing up, my favorite thing to do was to sit quietly in the corner of the library and read for one person. Here, there is no noise and impetuousness of the city, only faint ink-scented books and rare tranquility. I remember when my father brought me to this world for the first time, I looked up and asked stupidly, "Dad, will my Chinese score be the first in my class if I learn more it in the future?" At that time, my father just shook his head and smiled and gently stroked my shoulder. He only said, "What Xuan is doing now will benefit her all her life, so she should study hard." Seeing that my father didn't answer directly, I thought he acquiesced and made up my mind to study hard and get good grades in it.

Every Sunday, my father will send me here as promised, and gradually, I seem to have become a habit. Here, I got to know the sincere little prince from the beginning of Mr. Magic Fox, and then to the chivalrous and fearless Rutiha, the kind and sincere but ugly quasimodo. All these beautiful things attract me and make me addicted to them. I told myself that you came to study to get a good grade, so of course you will love reading. I don't know, in a teenager's heart, there has been a slight change, where a bud is growing, exuding vitality and vitality.

Sure enough, my Chinese grades are improving step by step, and I should attribute all these credits to reading.

Teenagers, after all, are young and have to be frivolous. After entering junior high school, the study task becomes more and more arduous. I don't know when I stepped into that world. My father only felt sorry for me when he saw such a situation. I said to him, "Dad, it's okay. My Chinese score will not drop, even if I don't study."

After all, things didn't develop as expected, and my Chinese grades gradually declined, which made my father very anxious. I offered to take time to study in the library again, and my father agreed with surprise. In the library, I eagerly absorbed nutrition from books, thinking that my grades would improve soon, but it still didn't have much effect. That day, I looked at the Chinese scores on my report card and threw the extracurricular books on the table to the ground in a rage. When my father came in, he picked up the book and gently smoothed the wrinkles on it. He sighed and said, "Mary, reading can improve your grades, but a real reader doesn't care about grades because he knows what he is doing is a beautiful and sacred thing." If you taste him with such an impetuous and beneficial heart, how can he treat you sincerely? " Be quiet, take the book seriously, and you will understand. "

After listening to my father's words again, I began to sink down and read carefully. Addiction again and again makes me feel that I have found my original feeling. That year, I got the first place in Chinese. That year, bloom was so prosperous that it looked like a father's smile.

Suddenly, I understood that I had planted a book in my heart and watered it with piety. At that moment, the little bud in my heart jumped with joy, and I obviously felt it trembling and grateful.

chapter five

A few birds chirping and insects chirping, the branches and leaves rustling, the peach blossoms burning and the Spring Festival fading, recalling the process of learning painting, I am a little sad and a little happy.

Imagine splashing water on your pants by a stream and smelling the cool smell freely. That spring, my girlfriends were dressed in cloth, and they were so happy and excited about "picking Coix lachryma-jobi, picking fine characters" in "Yuanye"! It's just that the scenery I yearn for can only appear in painting, so I learned to paint.

"Learning from the ancients, learning from nature" won the hearts of the people. The process of learning painting is a mixture of bitterness and joy.

When I first learned painting, my teacher strictly asked me to learn tradition first and art form first. But it's not easy. Don't laugh at Chinese painting for its light color and few scenery. It's hard to draw. The darker the color, the more tacky it is, and the more scenery, the more crowded it is. Before the ancients, I only felt like an ant looking at Mount Tai, ignorant and small.

In desperation, I had to copy the atlas, and I tried my best to draw it well. After I experienced a period of failure, the teacher gave me a board method to draw mountains, rocks and other scenery, such as rolling clouds, white lines, littering, axe chopping and so on. I drew according to a specific board method, and I drew it slowly. Mountains, clouds, trees, plums, bamboos and chrysanthemums, I don't leave home every day, but my heart has already traveled all over the world with paintings. Now I don't know how many layers of copied paintings have been piled up, but how many people know this kind of pleasure in suffering?

In summer, there are green trees and vines on the mountain, but I have long smoke, and there are thousands of white cranes, dense lines and colorful colors, all of which are my swaying and my joy. My heart is quietly washed by these fresh mountains and rivers, which can be flawless and silent. In painting, let the ancient style of Jing Ya blow and wash away the clearest and truest self.

My heart is full of joy, my heart is full of joy.

Article 6

Life is like a bowl of wine you will never taste. Sometimes it's pure, sometimes it's mellow, sometimes it's chic. "When the moon comes, I stop to ask." Sometimes it is the loneliness of "until, holding up my cup, I ask the bright moon, bring me my shadow and let the three of us"; Sometimes, it is also the kind of heroism of "giving them to boys for good wine and sharing eternal worries with you" ... Sometimes, things around us seem small, but they can ignite the excitement and joy that we have not seen for a long time, making my heart jump for joy.

A hazy and hazy dawn, perhaps earlier, I woke up from my sleep and stared at the extremely gloomy sky outside the window with tired eyes. The sun is still struggling to climb over countless buildings and peaks. There is nothing outside the dark window, except the lonely lights on the distant construction site, and there is silence all around. I saw coils of warm and humid air overflowing from my panting nose, and everything seemed to freeze. I want to talk about it, but I'm disappointed. It seems that the excitement and emotions that once existed in the body have disappeared.

In this extremely dark world, suddenly a few rays of light flashed in the distant sky and attracted me. Strangely, I leaned down in the dark, went to the window and looked up. The stars in the sky twinkle in the night sky, of which seven are the brightest. They are like seven fairies who have not returned from picking peaches, chasing and playing on the clouds. It is like seven diamonds jumping out of a crock, emitting the most dazzling light; It is also like a fairy chess piece, jumping on this huge chessboard in the sky. Then a long blue ribbon-like blue Tianhe flowed down, and the river inside seemed to be rushing. Is this the legendary "Chu River Han boundary"? It doesn't seem as soft as Guo Moruo said.

Suddenly, my heart beat inexplicably faster, like a bird struggling to flap its wings, and countless fragments flashed in my mind. Those awakened dusty memories and vivid images, like this river, flow before my eyes with affection, friends, affection and friendship ... They are real and within reach. Perhaps, study and busyness have made me forget these beautiful innocence, but Chen Xing helped me open my heart, let go of the long-awaited bird, and found those excitement and feelings again.

Soon, people began to walk in the street, and a light came on. They were connected with the stars in the sky. A white light flashed between the sky and the building, which opened people's eyes and was instantly illuminated at night. Those dimly discernible stars also gradually faded under the washing of light, and the sky above them turned from dark blue to fish-belly white, and finally turned into golden yellow. A red sun sticks out from the horizon. It is new. But my accelerated heart is not calm. The bird that always looks forward to tomorrow is still jumping and flapping its wings. ...

Sometimes, the excitement and joy in life are around you and me, just waiting for you to drink the wine of life like a hero, just waiting for you to find it with your eyes, but feel it with your heart.

Article 7

"I will bury my courage in my heart, but it is heavy and small, and I will go straight to the place where the wind blows ..." Whenever the song Wild Son rings in my ear, I always think of the camphor tree in front of my house. ...

It has been six years since I moved into my new home, and I have always had a soft spot for the camphor tree in front of my door. Once upon a time, after school, I always liked to stand under the camphor tree for a while. Shu Ting's To Oak can't help but jump into my mind: I must be a kapok beside you, standing with you in the image of a tree. Roots, close to the ground; Leaves, get along in the clouds ... whenever this time, I seem to become a stalwart tree.

The branches of Cinnamomum camphora are vigorous, flexible and simple, like a warrior with both clank and elegance. Its leaves are evergreen all year round and its vitality is full of positive energy. Every evening, the green leaves shine more brightly in the afterglow of the sunset. How I envy this carefree and happy tree.

However, a sudden ordeal came quietly. ...

That winter, a rare heavy snow hit, and the branches and leaves of Cinnamomum camphora were covered with snow. At night, the original handsome crown and some protruding branches could not bear the pressure of snow and were broken. At this time, the tall and mighty camphor tree scattered like a defeated rooster, and a few branches that were not broken but bent seemed to linger for a lifetime. The tree is getting old at once, which is a bit scary.

In the following days, I often worry about the camphor tree, afraid that it will never stand up again. When I pass by again, I always struggle with my head and run upstairs, so I can't bear to see it. ...

However, the fact is not what I imagined!

A ray of spring passed, and the camphor tree changed the winter depression. New green branches and leaves come out of nowhere, full of vitality and the appearance of the king's return. At that moment, I was really surprised and happy, and I was really excited about the rebirth of camphor tree! If you see it for the first time, you can't imagine that it was crushed by heavy snow and then reborn!

Roots, close to the ground; Ye, wandering in the clouds ... Now standing under the tree and looking up, I seem to understand better that trees are respected and loved by people because of their firm and confident personality.

The tree that once made me happy, you will inspire me to move forward firmly on the road of life!

Jump bar

The ears of rice are rolling, the Jin Lang is surging, the lotus root is fragrant, and the faint joy comes to mind. My heart began to beat with joy, because in warm and beautiful memories, you have been with me.

Autumn is crisp, red maple is like fire, burning everywhere, lotus flowers wither and lotus roots mature. At this time, my grandmother always asked me a little indulgently: "Little darling, are you a vegetarian?"

That's lotus root clip, my favorite when I was a child. My grandmother called it vegetarian cake.

My grandmother in my memory is full of hair, smiling, agile and light. Grandma's hand is like a butterfly with flowers. Take a white lotus root, peel and slice it. Pieces of symmetrical lotus roots bloom on the table like flawless jade, like exquisite handicrafts, and the fragrance of lotus roots lingers on the nose. Grandma put the fresh meat between two pieces of lotus root, flattened it, and the meat got into the hole of lotus root playfully, then rolled the lotus root pieces in the batter and put them in the oil pan.

The plain oil in the pot sizzled, and as soon as the lotus root slices passed, there were bursts of oil flowers, filled with smoke and water vapor curled up. The small stove room is steaming and fragrant, and I am salivating and full of expectation.

The vegetarian cake is out of the pot! Pieces of golden delicious, flashing little oil flowers, emitting attractive aroma, which is the mature color of crops, the joy of farmers' harvest, and the loving taste of grandma!

I grabbed a piece regardless, and my grandmother quickly reminded me: "It's hot!" I felt my hands were on fire, so I quickly threw them down. Grandma scolded me with a smile in order to hand me a pair of chopsticks. I couldn't wait to pick it up with chopsticks, put it on my mouth and blew it twice casually, then bit it down. Hi! It smells good! Although I'm so hot that I spit out my tongue. Grandma smiled from ear to ear and gently touched my head with her hand.

After eating vegetarian cakes, grandma took me to the old house and told me the story of the old house. The sunset glow is brilliant, the golden wind is rustling, the air is fresh, the pond is rippling, and fragrant rice is on my face. Grandma hummed a simple song for me. My eyes chased the fireflies that occasionally flew in the dark sky, snuggled up in my grandmother's arms and closed my eyes.

Now I am struggling in a noisy city, and my grandmother lives in the country. Whenever I think of my hometown in the country, I think of maple, fireflies, sunset glow and vegetarian cakes made by my grandmother.

The quiet and beautiful countryside, delicious lotus root clips and simple and kind grandma are the most precious treasures in my heart. Whenever I think of them, I feel warm and full of joy.

Partial wine

The moonlight shines on my bedside. At this time, the night is already deep, and there is no noise in the ear that belongs to the program, only the light pointer, jumping on the clock face and moving in the heart. ...

In the bright auditorium, there is a row of chairs and students file in. Tension occupied their faces, but there was a little excitement, and they whispered from time to time. I sat in a chair, frowning. I don't know if it's because of fear or worry, my legs are a little weak, because the school is going to hold an inter-class competition, and the content of the competition is actually Sudoku.

I remember when I first started practicing, I faced the fear of blank for the first time, and that kind of helplessness almost made me cry, and my brain went blank. Fortunately, with the timely assistance of the teacher, I was guided by the lighthouse standing on the shore with my heart and patience, taught me how to set out and how to find the lost number ... Finally, I overcame my fear.

However, I am afraid that I will drag down the whole class and wipe away all the hard work. I'm afraid to see reproachful eyes and failed death. I'm really scared ...

The "bell-"game has begun! I filled in the box carefully and fearfully, groping for the answer. Over time, I panicked, but I forced myself to calm down. Seeing that another class was almost over, sweat streamed down my forehead. "come on Come on! " The encouragement of my classmates injected new strength into me. I gritted my teeth and turned my head quickly, and finally I finished it with the cheers of my classmates.

"Six-year class ... first place!" At that moment, I could hardly believe my ears. I didn't come to my senses until my friends hugged me and screamed and cheered. At this moment, I suddenly felt that the prize I had expected had become completely unimportant. Most importantly, our efforts have made the class more United and intimate.

"Answer, answer, answer" The hands of the clock run on the clock face and in my happy heart, winding a circle for our class, a perfect and beautiful circle. ...