The weather is always gloomy these days. According to the weather forecast, it seems to have been raining these days, and my mother's mood is a little gloomy and unhappy like this weather. I asked my mother what happened. My mother said that the wheat will be harvested in the next few days. The weather is always like this. How can I harvest crops? I said that our family didn't have anything to worry about collecting wheat. My mother picked me up and talked about their childhood.
When my mother was a child, she grew up in the countryside. At that time, every family was farming. Most of the time, the wheat harvest was manual. My mother said that at that time, they cut the wheat from the field one by one with a sickle, and then they pulled it out from the field one by one. This was not just wheat grains, but also the appearance of wheat ears growing on the straw. Then adults would drive the wheat away and separate the wheat grains from the ears. After the separation, it's not over yet. Adults still need to clean the wheat poplars and put the wheat together. There are also straws and so on, and they need to be chopped up manually and put on the side that does not occupy land. At that time, the wheat was kept at home, unlike the big machines in the countryside now, which directly let the wheat harvesters take it away. I felt very troublesome just listening to my mother. I said why not use machines to collect it. It was so tiring to work manually. My mother said that there were no machines at that time. At that time, unlike now, most of the labor at that time was done manually. However, although we were very tired, everyone was very happy and lively when we were working. Some families from one family helped each other with their work, and everyone was talking and laughing.
Now, although there are big machines for harvesting wheat, farming is not as tiring as before, but it is not as fun as before.
My mother said that she wanted to go back to the countryside this year, not for anything else, but because it was the place where she was born and raised. Although it was different from before, it was gradually approaching the life in the city, but it was also her root. She wanted to go back and have a look. I don't understand why it was just a simple time to harvest wheat, and it seemed like a big deal to come to my mother.
Mom said I don't understand now, but I will understand her mood when I grow up.
Looking at my mother's glowing eyes when she talked about the countryside, I suddenly remembered two words I saw in a book: homesickness.
Maybe when I grow up and leave home, I will be somewhere and at some time thinking about that different place in my heart like my mother.
Homesickness excellent composition 2 Simple wooden house, ancient bridge and flowing water, gently open the photos and slowly push away childhood memories.
Every time I hear my classmates talking about their hometown, I will think of her simple face, the face that has long since disappeared.
When babbling, I get along with her day and night. Three years have made me familiar with her. Her black and white wooden house is my reliable support; Her old little bridge is the beauty of my running; Her trickle of water is to let me enjoy the fun of water ... She has seen my childhood crying; She has heard my childhood laughter; My growing footprints, she witnessed.
Just like a drop of water on the needle tip in the sea, my days are dripping in the stream of time. Looking back suddenly, I found that I had left her for ten years. In front of the wooden house, on the bridge, by the running water, I said goodbye to her. The romance of childhood was twisted into the rope, pulling her at one end and me at the other.
Now, I am surrounded by noise in a bustling metropolis, and she is still there. But she's not who she was ten years ago. The wooden house has become a three-story country villa; The small bridge has long been painted with dazzling paint; Running water is no longer crystal clear. She has changed, but I still love her.
She is not prosperous or rich, and she is unknown. She, the beautiful town-Zhuji, my hometown.
When I left her, I was just the ignorant baby in my mother's arms. Time flies. Today, ten years later, I gradually understand, understand. In fact, we never parted, because there was the best time; No matter what kind of me, what kind of world, what kind of comings and goings, and the vicissitudes of the world, I am still the one running on the bridge, because I had the best time; No matter when I meet you again, I no longer have an innocent smile, or I am full of joy and sadness, you will always be what I remember, because I had the best time.
Wooden houses, small bridges and flowing water are swaying the best time in my memory. In the sun, beauty shines there; In my memory, homesickness grew with me ...
Nostalgia excellent composition 3 Nostalgia, a faint sorrow, a strong emotion, a warm affection.
-Inscription
The homesickness complex may be like the loneliness of Zhang Ji's "frosty night, Jiang Feng fishing for fire and worrying about sleep"; Perhaps as Wang Anshi's "Spring breeze is green in Jiang Nanan, when will the bright moon shine on me" is urgent; Or it may be like Li Bai's "lifting myself to look, I found that it was moonlight, sinking back again, I thought suddenly of home" thoughts.
Sometimes, perhaps only when you leave your hometown will you understand that homesickness is so worrying. Sometimes, perhaps only when you leave the warm port of your hometown can you understand the infinite worries in Du Fu's "he knows that the dews tonight will be frost, how much brighter the moonlight is at home!". The Mid-Autumn Festival was originally a happy reunion festival, but I had Wang Wei's sigh because of my studies, "If I knew where my brothers climbed, I would have one less person in the dogwood." Looking at the bright moon hanging high in the sky, it seems that there is an outline of my hometown in the bright moon. There is a small house in the outline of that hometown, and there is the person I miss most in that house.
I only hope that the bright moon can send my sorrow to my hometown.
At the beginning of the lights, the Lantern Festival is coming. Listening to the "happy" salute outside the classroom window, the crackling firecrackers, my heart has drifted to the lively hometown, I wonder if my father who is swimming in the lights has already sweated; I wonder if my relatives at home have already eaten Yuanxiao glutinous rice balls. I wonder if grandma who believes in Buddhism is praying sincerely for her offspring ...
I hope the bright moon can send my thoughts to the relatives I miss that day in the distance.
"Blood is thicker than water" is a saying about affection that has been circulating for a long time, but I didn't expect this sentence to come true on me one day. When I failed in the exam, I missed my grandmother's nagging. At least her nagging can make me understand that there are still people who miss me. When I am misunderstood, I miss the slapstick of my older sisters. At least their slapstick can make me understand that there are people who understand me. When I am bullied, I miss my parents' company, at least their company can make me understand that there are people in the world who can make me rely on.
I hope the bright moon can send my thoughts to my loved ones and let them know that there is still someone missing them in the world.
Looking at the bright moon with a handful of running water, where does a wanderer cause homesickness? The emotion of missing makes my heart full of emotion. There seems to be a thousand words in my heart, but I don't know how to tell them. Only the honest tears have already revealed my mood, and two hot tears have crossed my cheeks.
I hope the bright moon understands my heart!
In winter, in that distant hometown, there are white snowflakes, and everything is condensed by the cold air. Red lanterns are hung on the small red tile houses, which have a hazy aesthetic feeling under the cover of smoke, just like the fairyland. A bright moon seems to be a drop of water, solidified in this cold winter.
The next day, when the sun shines on the white snow, a busy day begins. "Ah, look at this fruit, how fresh it is! Come and have a look, have a look! " "Rape, come and have a look! Look how positive this color is! " In the busy morning market, the cries of hawking were louder and louder. There are many people who come to buy food. If you are not careful, you will be pushed from east to west and from south to north. The noisy atmosphere infected the cold town, and the heat permeated people's happy faces. Gradually, from a distance, there came the cheerful yangko sound and the powerful knocking sound of the blacksmith. This is the winter in my hometown, like an ink painting with appropriate shades.
Summer in my hometown is more characteristic, like a colorful oil painting. At noon, the blazing sun baked the earth, and the farmers sat on the corn stalks, smoking authentic dry cigarettes, grabbing a big cake and sending it to their mouths, chewing green onions, which was a great joy.
In the market, fresh vegetables are neatly placed on the stalls, and the fragrance of the soil has not been exhausted. A woman is selling them. The purple coat of eggplant is bright and bright; Pepper is covered with fiery red and delicate clothes, twisting its slender waist; The green rape swayed with dew; Ginger frowned ... Over there, the smell of food covered everything up. The yellow fried eggs are like a small sun, lying quietly in the lunch box; White rice is like a cloud floating around the "sun"; The coriander was lying there, soft and cotton, taking a bite, and the fragrance was overflowing. Look at the stall owners: some are tasting authentic farm dishes, some are making people chat at home, some are sorting out the order of vegetables, and some are carrying big baskets in their arms to clean up the rotten leaves before the stall.
This is my hometown, a small town, a lively and cordial hometown. From a distance, a bright moon hangs high in the air and quietly listens to the laughter coming from the streets and every household. At this time, I am very envious of the full moon, and I can hang it in the sky of my hometown and watch it all.
Standing under the sky in a foreign land, let the evening wind blow my hair; Let the drizzle soak my cheeks; Let moonlight imprison me to miss home.
Although, my hero should aim at all directions, but his concern is like a kite flying high, and he can't get rid of the slender reins. The murmur of the water in my hometown sometimes rings in my ears, like the sound of a ring-crisp and long! Although a man should strive for self-improvement, his concern is like smoke from a kitchen stove that can't disperse soft white clouds. The mountains in my hometown are green from time to time, like the color of the sky-blue and light! Although, men don't flick when they have tears, they are worried about it like vines of melons and beans that can't be put off the dripping fence.
Perhaps, where is wrong, I can only watch the back of Sangzi No.1 Middle School leave me far away. Far away-gradually blurred! Perhaps, it is destiny takes a hand, I can only look at the smiles of other universities coming towards me. Near-gradually clear! So, I walked away with my family's farewell and tears in the sunset. So, I came by Zhaohui with my dreams and hopes.
However, mother cried. My kind mother folded the last dress for me, "Call home when you have time". At this time, I saw a few white hairs between my mother's hair. She was old-really old! Look at those rough hands. My strict father always tidied up the last book for me, "Take good care of yourself when you are alone". At this time, I saw a few wrinkles on my father's forehead. He was old-really old! Look at that bent waist.
Looking at the hot land that once raised me. When I was a child, I fished by the pond and watched the elegant dance of the fish. Firewood in the mountains, listening to the crisp songs of birds; Play in the fields and smell the fragrance of rape fields. There is a perfect world in the dream mountain. I want to go fishing in the sea. I want to go to the forest to get firewood; I want to play in the plain. However, I have to go. So, with a dream, I left alone. I left gently, taking away my parents' concerns and my mission on my shoulders.
I stand under the sky in a foreign land, and my taste is: "The spring breeze is green and Jiang Nanan, when will the bright moon shine on me?" The spring breeze in the south of the Yangtze River blows into sleep.
Standing under the sky in a foreign land, I realized: "The rain in the night sky for no reason broke the heart of homesick Wan Li." The rain drops from my hometown spilled into my heart.
I stood under the sky in a foreign land and realized, "lifting myself to look, I found that it was moonlight, sinking back again, I thought suddenly of home." The moonlight of mulberry shines into the cold window.
Nostalgia Excellent Composition 6 The taste of hometown is memorable in the distance.
Tired of traveling far away, all I can cut is the taste of my hometown, a handful of wild vegetables, a bowl of rice porridge and a dish of side dishes ...
The taste of hometown is always in your dreams at the moment of homesickness. The food in my hometown is a unique flavor, and it is the peace of mind that I can still smell when I am far away. It is a deep attachment that spans thousands of waters in Qian Shan and cannot be lost ...
At the Dragon Boat Festival in my hometown, many customs are the same as those in other places: dumplings wrapped with spices are wrapped with five-color silk ropes, which has a faint fragrance called fragrant jiaozi. Children like to hang it on mosquito nets. But now it's cotton, not to mention the smell.
Zongzi in the north is not as big as Zongzi in the south, but the content and style are not too few. Although it is not as sweet and salty as Suzhou Zongzi, it has a unique flavor. The red bean paste is moist and the jujube paste is sweet, and the ratio of glutinous rice and sweet stuffing is just right, even people who are not sweet can eat a few.
Now, my parents and I live in Zhanjiang, a coastal city. Zongzi here is huge and tastes sweet and salty. In contrast, I still like northern zongzi. But the taste of the bags of northern zongzi on the shelves in the supermarket is not flattering. So, my mother plans to make zongzi herself this year.
Making zongzi is just a piece of cake for my mother: glutinous rice is soaked overnight, lotus grass (hay for bundling zongzi) and zongzi leaves are washed and soaked, and candied dates and bean paste are prepared in advance.
I started making zongzi.
Mother has a pair of "magic hands", and she can make zongzi very quickly. Zongzi are small and lovely, not like the four-corner zongzi in Zhanjiang. Mother's dumplings are exquisite in four corners, in the shape of a quadrangular triangle, and look like children dressed in green.
The zongzi was steamed in the pot, divided into candied dates and bean paste stuffing, and steamed in four pots in one pot.
When the first pot was steamed, I was the first to run to the pot, pick a big zongzi, and took a bite. The soft glutinous rice and the bean flavor of red beans just blended together, and there was the fragrance of zongzi leaves, which was simply a delicacy in the world. I ate two at a time, only to feel bloated. In zongzi, I tasted the unique delicacy of hometown food, and I also tasted homesickness ...
At night, I look at the north, which is the direction of my hometown. Although I am thousands of miles away from that place, I believe that as long as I can eat the food in the north, my hometown and my family will not break. Because I am not far from my hometown, there is only one bridge between me-this bridge is called affection and homesickness.