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07/11/2012

Almost forgotten in autumn

 

Early in the morning, and occasionally a sound birds. Disturbed me quiet long heart, it is like a child in the sleeping mother call. The heart is quivered autumn fresh, open the window, the birds have disappeared. Think of hometown beautiful natural scenery, honest folks.

In front of the autumn is not a color, its light, like a good woman will not entertain guests. Although there is a beautiful and elegant downstairs to the courtyard, the banana tree, covered with like mustard like papaya tree, there is a leafy tree. The air smell nothing, always feel that life without what, is probably miss hometown in autumn.

Hometown autumn, its color is noble, enchanting.

The magnificent and colorful wood, catalpa and desert diversiform-leaved poplar forest, Beijing hills, is not inferior at! Frosted impregnated wood catalpa leaves in full hillside moved to the bleak autumn brings, daydream of a quality suggestive of poetry or painting!

The hills of persimmon tree fruits without metaphor, refers to the persimmon leaves more of beautiful fragrance, green leaves on a red mark. In childhood influence each of a young heart. The children in the village on the meaning of beauty has ingrained details. The village children enjoying nature give special favor.

My old persimmon tree to tilt at the edge of stone-faced, only the town house can only and it is high. Summer is disregarded his, only green fruit hidden in the thick leaves below. Fat like cyan, put in the palm of the tender. One to the autumn these elves have exposed the red face, than a handsome. Wasp buzzing with publicity, those splattered on the sweet potato to splash a persimmon. Never regret, wasp picks up. When my father said to me, the persimmon tree stem is a kind of Chinese traditional medicine, pharmacy purchasing price is very good. I and friend to pick persimmon, that's how a simple thing, fall under the trees in persimmon trees have become dry, like a dried flower. In his hands clean. The first time I have about money consciousness. Labor fruit with a small diagonal towel wrapped, it everyday on my pillow. My father made me -- keep it for me, I don't promise, secretly still small pillow read several times. The last school, did not remember my little harvest to your party?

Mother put the persimmon dried into cakes, and then allow them to surface slowly into a white cream. Persimmon skin drying in the yard of bamboo Zhezi, that is for the pig to ragweed. We are tired easily catch to the mouth of a release, the sweet taste. It is the taste of childhood, and now to. Moonlight is bright, we play hide-and-seek in the night, the night is quiet, we are noisy. Moon shining down on us, moonlight play, forget tomorrow still had to go to school.

Once the kids and I chat, he said that most people don't like autumn, not write autumn. I think so, because the child's answer is: the autumn is bleak . I seldom like autumn! To see the falling leaves, felt a sentimental!

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