The zongzi tastes wonderful.

The Ruo leaves exude a delicate fragrance, and a bite of the rice dumpling is sweet but not greasy.

It is not only an appetizing delicacy to relieve the heat, but also a nutritious delicacy.

Below is a lyrical prose about Zongzi that I brought to you for your enjoyment.

Lyrical prose about Zongzi: Zongzi My special feelings for Zongzi originate from that memory when I was in school.

When I was young, the rice dumplings were so sweet and delicious. The sweet honey was spread on the rice and it was crystal clear. The sweetness and smoothness mixed with bean paste and jujube paste, accompanied by the fragrance of the rice dumpling leaves, were unforgettable.

Not every year I could eat rice dumplings, but my childhood was still carefree. When I was 12 years old, I went to live in Qinghai with my parents. The unfamiliar environment and the difficult climate made all my memories of rice dumplings gradually blur.

stand up.

Moving the family to Qinghai to work and live was a life decision made by my parents. At the age of 12, I would not have understood the complicated emotions my parents had regarding this important decision of their own.

In order to live and have a bright future for their three children, in that rainy autumn, they said goodbye to their tearful grandfather and embarked on the train to the west... During the ten years in Qinghai, they left behind

It gave me my teenage years, and also imprinted my parents’ lives with memories that affected their lives.

At that time, my father worked very hard and neglected food and sleep, and my mother took great care of the family. Although life was a little poorer, the family depended on each other and lived happily.

The feeling of being separated from one another and living in a foreign land made my parents very strict with my study requirements. The only thing I could do was to produce good academic results so as not to disappoint them.

During that time in Qinghai, my father, who was less than 40 years old, worked hard and I studied hard. I missed many Dragon Boat Festivals and forgot the sweet taste of rice dumplings when I was a child.

When I was 19 years old, my parents completed their education mission for their three children and returned to their hometown in Shaanxi. My father was assigned to work for the government, and I continued my unfinished studies in Qinghai alone.

One school holiday one year, when I got off the train and walked excitedly on the busiest street in my hometown to go home, I saw an unforgettable scene in my life: my mother, pushing a trolley with shelves on it.

There were stoves and a lot of hot rice dumplings selling along the street: "Zongzi, Zongzi, Sweet Zongzi"... The voice I am most familiar with in this life and the person who loves me the most, my mother, is selling rice dumplings on the streets of my hometown.

In the eyes of others, their parents, who have lived in Qinghai for so many years, should be gilded and made a fortune. But today, in order to make a living, they went back to their hometown to sell rice dumplings.

I knew in my heart that my father's meager salary at that time could not support our whole family. Once his salary was obtained, he would definitely have to spend part of it to support me in school, and the rest would be the living expenses of the whole family.

My mother's slightly hoarse shouting voice made me feel sad and sad. When she saw me coming from a distance, she was so ecstatic. This was the heartfelt joy of a mother seeing her long-lost child.

?Come on, eat a rice dumpling quickly. I made it myself. It's very sweet...? I was eating the rice dumplings that I had just peeled off. I couldn't feel any sweetness at all except that my nose was sore.

Unexpectedly, the first thing I ate after many years was the rice dumplings made by my mother to make a living. The taste of that rice dumpling will be unforgettable for the rest of my life.

The three of us, brother and sister, had not yet gone to work at that time. The heavy burden of the family made my mother do two jobs at the same time. One was as a cleaner, carrying a big broom to sweep the road every early morning, and the other was to sweep the road after dawn.

Go and sell rice dumplings on a cart.

Every day after dinner, my father would help my mother start cooking rice dumpling leaves, wrapping rice dumplings, and then cooking them.

Every day I use my hands to fish out the rice soaked in water and wrap it in rice dumpling leaves. My mother’s hands are full of cracks and holes. These are not the hands a woman should have. I can’t imagine the kind of hands I feel every time I put my hands into the water.

How painful the sting would be. I couldn't imagine what gave my mother's tired body that unstoppable strength.

Countless times, I watched them through the window busy in the kitchen until midnight, which made me extremely heartbroken. Countless times, I hated myself for not going to work early to make money and not letting them work so hard. Countless times, I secretly made up my mind to work hard.

If you want to be a promising person, you should be worthy of your dedication to your parents.

The hard-working mother never complained about her fate. She always smiled. In her heart, the obedient and sensible children were God's gift to her.

As long as the school is on holiday, every morning I will ride my bicycle and take her to help her sweep the road. She is in a great mood while sitting in the back seat. I think of my mother's daily hard work, but I feel mixed emotions in my heart.

When making rice dumplings every night, I would help my mother make rice dumplings and grind the bean paste filling. Her big rough hands were soaked in ice water and turned white. I couldn't bear to look at her. This is my mother.

I want to experience the exhaustion and hardship of my mother. I want to remember my mother's kindness forever. I want to never forget that hard life.

At that time, my mother suffered from intervertebral disc herniation, stomach problems, leg pain, and back pain. This is a debt that our brothers and sisters owe to our mother, a debt that will never be repaid.

She interpreted maternal love with each sweet rice dumpling and each vigorous swing of the broom.