My hometown is an unremarkable small village. It has no bustling and noisy city, no high-rise buildings and beautiful neon lights that people look up to in the city, and no traffic lights that indicate the passage of vehicles. However, it has a joy and sweetness that everyone can enjoy alone.

Whenever clusters of Yingchunhua flowers on the ridge of the field open, wicker shoots in the village, and we run in the boundless fields or lie down like flying pigeons. Listening to the birds singing, I can hear the cries of wheat seedlings jointing. In the long fields, people are talking happily and hoes are touching the land. We are wild, and from time to time, adults will kindly call "Slow down, don't hurt the grass".

On the summer solstice, the fragrance of Sophora japonica floats all over the village, and our crisp laughter is rippling under every locust tree. Even strangers are too lazy to call a sound when they pass by. At night, cicadas rest, dogs sleep, and only frogs bark tirelessly. Adults walk out of the house in twos and threes, shaking cattail fans and tying them into a pile of laughter, and our children are unwilling to be lonely. We lay a mat on it and count the stars, which is the brightest, and tell fairy tales in turn. Our story is over until the adults are sleepy and call us home together. Every ear is heavy. When the wind blows, there is a roar of laughter everywhere. The roar of machines, the sound of food jumping on the machines, and the shouts of children are all mixed up. It is very lively.

At this point in the middle of winter, snowflakes float in, and the flat streets, scattered roofs and branches with uneven thickness are all wrapped in silver. At this time, we are more excited and learn to be adults. Or make it into a majestic Spider-Man, or make it into big snowballs rolling around on the ground. At this time, you will feel that winter here is more beautiful.

I love my hometown, where I have my friends who go to school and go home at dusk, as well as my loving parents, which are the cradle of my memories.