Beautiful sentences of picking tea in spring

The beautiful sentence of picking tea in spring is as follows:

Blue sky, white clouds and breezes are fascinating. You stand quietly in the endless sea of tea, just like a goddess in the wind, pure and elegant. Because of you, the scenery of this tea sea has become more beautiful.

In the distance, there are clouds around Chashan, the fragrance of tea is intoxicating, the tea pickers are looming, and the people in Chashan sing like a dream. After the spring rain, the sleeping tea seedlings are awakened, and thoughts are also precipitated in the smoke of tea fragrance. In this life, people who don't love beauty love fragrant tea and have a special liking for tea. In my spare time, I like to drink slowly and enjoy the transcendental realm, a cup of fragrant tea, a good book and a famous song.

The tea-picking girl in Hsinchu's basket is beautiful. Laughter is sweet and pleasant for mountain birds, and singing is indulgence to break the fog veil. Red lip clouds greet the morning glow, and red cheeks and pleated clothes send the sunset glow. Sift the tender melon slices by hand, bend down and bake them into fine yellow buds.

April is the time to pick tea, which is expensive and timely. It's too early, the taste is not complete, and it will be scattered too late. At the moment, I have made an appointment with a tea-picking girl, riding a bike very leisurely. All the way, green mountains and green waters, birds and flowers, spring scenery, ushered in the tea garden in bursts of laughter.

Your eyes are clearer than the clear water, and your skin is more delicate than this bud; The breeze blows, lifting up your black hair and waving it with gauze, which is the beauty of your integration into nature. If spring breeze gives bud life, sunshine gives bud warmth, and rain gives bud growth; And you use your slender hands to make this bud play its greatest value.

Looking at the pieces of Chun Lv in front of me, it seems that tea pickers are walking at a leisurely pace, and there are waves of sweet songs floating in their ears. That figure, that smile, that heart, has long been addicted to matcha fragrance, drunk and full of whispers.

Walking into the tea garden, the fragrance came to my nose and made me linger. At this moment, I am intoxicated in the tea garden, and the trees are dancing silently. Hands danced among the branches and leaves, sometimes solo, sometimes ensemble, eyes danced in the garden, fingers floated on the branches, a leaf bud flew into the cake, and in an instant, the green in the tea cake overflowed.