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Please give me sweet honey as heavy as frost on Baidu Cloud!

The rain is like silver-gray sticky spider silk, weaving into a soft net that covers the entire autumn world. The sky is also dark, like the roof of an old house covered with cobwebs. The gray-white clouds piled in the sky are like the white powder peeling off the roof. Under the cover of this ancient roof, everything is extremely dull. The green pomegranates, mulberry trees, and grapevines in the garden only represent the prosperity of the past midsummer. Now they have become the remains of ancient Roman architecture, shivering in the sound of rain, recalling the glorious past. The color of the grass has turned into a melancholy yellow, and there are no fresh flowers to be found on the ground. The delicate daffodils planted outside the dormitory wall lowered their heads, with tears in their eyes, sighing at their misfortune. Only two days have passed. The beautiful sunny day met with such a musty and rainy day. Only the sweet-scented osmanthus in the corner has a few tender stamens as precious as gold, carefully hidden under the green oval leaves, revealing a little hope of new life sprouting.

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True beauty may not necessarily be radiant, true touching may not necessarily lead to tears, and true shock may not be earth-shattering. The bright moonlight and the dancing shadows of trees under the moonlight, the bright starlight and the blinking innocence in the starlight, the swaying candlelight and mother's labor in the candlelight, the flashing neon and the romance of the city beside the neon.

In the sky of life, there is wind and sunshine, but there are also clouds and fog. Not every sunny day brings warmth, and not every dark cloud brings rain. Since you can't decide the direction of your destiny, then go through every day steadily; since you can't control the changes in the sky, then dress up your inner emptiness carefully. Please believe: if you cherish it, you can have it; if you give it, you will be rewarded; if you pass it, you will not regret it. Hold the joy in your hand and be indifferent in your heart.

In the small village of my hometown, whose yard doesn’t have a rack of beans in the summer? My mother made hand-made noodles, marinated with tender beans, and topped with sesame sauce and garlic sauce. It was the family's favorite in the summer. The fun that beans bring me is not only delicious. My neighbors Xiaojuan and Leizi and I often hide under the beans rack and hide and seek.

What impressed me most was the bunch of candied haws of sugar-coated haws that my grandfather brought home from the market. The few of us who were fighting and noisy on the grandma's bed saw a rare food that we rarely tasted, so we immediately calmed down obediently and stared longingly at the bunch of candied haws.

Time always passes by in a hurry, making it difficult for people to catch up with her progress. Later, I went out to study, started a career, and started a family. The distance from my old house became more and more distant. Now, only my elderly parents guard the mottled old house and refuse to leave. They moved in with us. My mother said: "You don't understand, the house also has spirituality. If someone is guarding it, the whole family will be safe; if no one is guarding it, the house will gradually grow old." This makes me feel very guilty because I don't go home often.

The breeze brought bursts of fragrance, and the purple wisteria flowers on the roadside were in bloom. Strings of huge flower spikes hung from the branches, as gorgeous as clouds, and the brown branches were winding and clinging to the wooden frame. On the promenade.

When I was a child, my old house had three rooms, and the one I slept in was connected to the kitchen. Every day at dawn, the first thing grandma does when she gets up is to make a fire to cook. When she lit the match, the soft "click" sound still woke me up. I opened my sleepy eyes and caught a glimpse of grandma sitting on a small stool under the stove. Her kind face was illuminated by the fire, and her thin figure was projected on the gray wall, jumping with the flames. After a while, a burst of smoke filled the kitchen, and grandma's figure gradually blurred.

After the river completed its cleaning task in this pool, it turned down the wide and sloping river bed. It is a wide, clear and shallow river bed. As long as it is not the flood season, you can cross the river to the other side by laying some big stones along the road without your shoes touching the water. If you want to feel the coolness of the river, take off your shoes, roll up your trousers to your knees, and step on the various exquisite and smooth bluestones lying on the river bed to cross the river easily. The moss on these small stones that have been stepped on by people does not grow long. Standing on the river bank, you can see the direction of the road at the bottom of the river through the shallow water. Snails also like this shallow water that does not settle silt but has fresh and abundant stone moss. They gather here in large and small groups and open their big mouths to adsorb on the smooth stones with stone moss. Running water never rots, and the screws here bear witness to the vitality of the river. The water was as light as a virgin, and I went down to the beach laughing.

Every autumn, after the rice in the terraced fields is harvested and people finish carrying the straw, grandma is very busy and begins to prepare the materials needed for weaving straw shoes.

She went to the fields to pick up straw abandoned by people, picking up straw here and there from morning to night. More than two months later, she finally picked up a pile of straw.

Fortunately, the cold winter in the south comes late and goes away quickly. This means that autumn in the south is slowly extending at a leisurely pace.

They have skin like black roses, eyes that are still firm despite hardships, shovels, hammers and other tools lying beside them. I was stunned. Yes, this scenery was created by people like them. In order to complete such a scenery, how many times did they have to suffer from the scorching sun and how much youth did they spend. They are migrant workers who came from afar, they are the creators of this landscape, and they are also the founders of the times. Maybe they don't have very distant dreams, they just hope to bring a future to their families, so they come to this unfamiliar city, smell the heavy city atmosphere, and do their menial jobs. But their existence is the root of this city. Without them, the city's scenery, tall buildings, gorgeous downtowns, and lush greenery would be shattered. Their hearts connect the family and the country, making each other's hearts beat passionately and powerfully.