Essay prose of falling snow

Autumn has finally come to an end, and the footsteps of winter have quietly entered my field of vision. When I think of the end of the season every year, I will think of Shelley's famous saying: "If winter comes, can spring be far behind?" Yes, even if the people around you are far away from you, perhaps, they suddenly disappear in your field of vision, but this expectation for spring has never faded all the time.

I always thought I was in good health, but I couldn't compete with the sudden change of the weather for a while. The flu swept through like a locust plague in a crop field, and I have not escaped its disaster. At this sensitive moment, the mention of influenza is always associated with swine flu, so every move in public should be restrained and restricted.

As the saying goes, "Illness comes like a mountain, and illness goes like reeling." This sentence seems a bit exaggerated for me. I haven't realized the situation that I can't sleep at night and the pain is unbearable. I just feel that for a time, my heart is empty, and I have to go from waking to sleeping all day, then from sleeping to opening my eyes, wrap the quilt tightly, and let the sweat soak my pajamas one after another. However, I still wake up thinking that I am going to have an intravenous drip today. I am not a person who likes injections very much. I always feel that when that small pinhole passes through my skin and then enters the blood vessel, it is a kind of extreme abuse to my body. I remember when I was a child, the school had to give every student an vaccination, and every time I had to hide in advance. It's useless to know this little trick. It's also a prelude before I burst into tears.

The night before, my forehead was burning all night, and my lips were chapped like a long-term drought. I think if I put a well in front of me, I can't moisten my chapped lips. Early in the morning, it was dark, and I didn't think it was time to go to school. The son clamored for his father to send him to school. It turns out that today's weather is going to cool down again, and there is a kind of momentum: "Dark clouds are pressing the city to destroy". When I left, my husband repeatedly told me not to forget the breakfast on the table and the infusion.

Looking out of the window, it's dark between heaven and earth, and all the trees nearby are shrouded in dim light. This gloomy scene is hard to cheer people up. A few days later, if the sky vented its long-standing resentment, it would be rude to shed its own tears. If it were me, I would vent my pent-up resentment from time to time, just like God, but those who have never cared and cared will be wronged again. In this way, I felt the first snow since winter, accompanied by bursts of chill. This winter snow has neither the softness of spring rain nor the enthusiasm of summer rain, nor the romance of autumn rain, but it has its own unique aloof, which I like.

Have breakfast, and take a copy of "Selected Prose of China in 28" to the outpatient shop in the community for intravenous drip. When I walked into the store, the shopkeeper had already greeted me with a smile, and the nurse came to help me inject the medicine skillfully. Although the store is not big, it has accommodated more patients than I expected. I am still sitting in front of the door in Chaoyang, next to a pot of calla lilies, which is very eye-catching, and the exaggerated branches and leaves are full of energy. I think I will be like them in two days. Even if there is no sunshine today, I have lost the love of sunshine, but I like the tranquility and peace here. From time to time, there are Zhao Benshan's sketches on TV, and I only hear the laughter coming from the TV, but I don't see how happy the patients in the store are. Perhaps, because of the illness, that joy has also been hidden.

(2)

I don't know how I got through last winter. Every winter, there will be an unspeakable unhappiness, and I will think of the elderly. I am always stuck at home and can't go out; I will remember that when my mother is still alive, I will constantly make new cotton-padded clothes for the children; I will remember that my father's study is always smoky.

It seems that the days when snowflakes are flying all over the sky and people laugh loudly are gradually drifting away. At night, under the dazzling color and dim light, I will be in a daze from time to time. Thinking about everything you can think of, is it to make up for amnesia, or for something you feel guilty about? I can't figure it out myself.

A few rainy days seem to have swept away all the good moods, and every day I shuttled among people, and I didn't care about the once-admired ginkgo tree, and I didn't notice whether there was any ear-enticing sound under my feet. In a hurry, I went round and round, until one day, I saw the withered chrysanthemums still so beautiful. I think: Does this winter still remind me?

The thoughts accumulated for a long time have already flooded to the shore, but the shore seems to have no strength and no preparation, and it is struggling in the depths of the sand layer and in the rigid soil. Winter snow has penetrated into every inch of land, and the dry and cold wind warns people from time to time that this is my power. When I curl up in my comfortable room, I will think, is that place piled up with dirt so warm? Is there a warm hand to cover the heat on the cold bed? Those yellow grasses have no ability to withstand the wind. I think, what will happen to even stubborn stones?

when you can't practice, you will always find some reasonable excuses for yourself. Let this honeysuckle last longer, because there are still many people waiting next to it ...

Sometimes, things are very strange. When you hate something, maybe it will bring you some happiness. Take my illness for example. It has been several months since I left this book by my bed, and I haven't made any progress in reading it. However, in these short days, I have become familiar with its contents. From the first time I read Yu Minhong's speech at the opening ceremony of Peking University, I knew how the successful person of New Oriental kept a low profile and was foolish, and his humorous words made people love it. Zhang Guohua's "Lost Twenty-four Turn" learned that there is another place in Guizhou, China that is so memorable, just as the author said: "The twenty-four turn in history has been tragic, hot, lonely and lonely." I still can't deeply understand the meaning, but I have vaguely felt the unusual features of these twenty-four turns.

I like a word, no matter what age the author is, it doesn't need to be interpreted by age, and there is no generation gap between them. It's just a secret affinity in the bottom of my heart, and the feeling of never meeting will be ignorant. I am very content that when I am haggard, there is still a book that comforts my heart and I appreciate that it can keep me company. In fact, I am not a person who loves reading very much, but I always feel that not charging myself will make my mind dull and my thinking stiff.

Reading in silence, time flies quickly before you know it, so three small bottles are lost in a moment. Looking at the chaotic sky, I don't feel the meaning of' first bloom'. The winter snow is still falling. I know that I still need calla lilies to keep me company tomorrow, and I still want to taste the collection of essays that comfort my heart.

(3)

The snowfall is better than one. The earth keeps the appointment as scheduled, and the snowflake walks with light steps, just like the heart rippling in the blue sky and snow, but suddenly it loses a kind of past persistence. The little things in life can always make people feel how much. An injured person who has been in bed for a long time, with a dull pain, screams at the bottom of his heart. Is it a cicada's pain or a memory that lasts forever? It is true that if I am wandering like a lifetime ago, walking in the eternal wilderness and staying away from the noisy downtown, I will greet a new course with brilliant light.

With the wandering body, I feel the source of life and the ancient civilization with my soul. The fragmented picture will eventually have a satisfactory attribution. A one-way trip is always accompanied by loneliness. My heart is as old as before, and in an instant I feel that the "Furnace" surrounded by Cang Kejia's works is so full of passion and sudden separation. If the dream is like a dream, it will shake in front of your eyes, and clusters of flames will light up in Ran Ran in a narrow space, like beating notes dancing in front of your eyes, and that wonderful melody will flow in your heart, transmitting a well-known warmth and warmth, which will make you intoxicated, obsessed, nostalgic and clinging to Ruo Ban. I've been longing for it for a long time and I'm familiar with it.

The tumultuous age of climbing mountains, overlapping mountains, being displaced from place to place, being filled with smoke and being repeatedly hit by war has suddenly returned to our eyes. I don't know where I came from, but I just thought that Yi 'an, who was once favored and admired by people several times, went south with his family for a belief. For the father, for the husband, for the faith, for the ceremony? No one knows, just think about it, and be sincere and reasonable.

what else can you carry such a heavy text? The volume of books overflows my heart, and only I know it deeply. I read not only the pages of paper, but the Gu Song in the crevices of the mountains, which has been shaped at the high cliff end for a long time.

The perception of words, without worrying and thinking, is a happy way, perhaps just a spiritual comfort. There is always an idea for a long time, no matter how many sides a person has, it is often the words that express his inner self. This kind of kindness without thinking about it just means that life should be like this. When the deep thoughts in my heart are excavated, my soul has been bleached in the sunbathing. Admittedly, if I say it, there is no need to worry about the confusion of thinking. Different people have different opinions, here is just their own opinions.

when you travel through the lingering fragrance of ink, you will sometimes be moved by the dense words, and you will be happy soon. You can touch the hair tips and feel the places you have never been and yearn for. If I suddenly feel that the attic is strewn at random, and the loyal woman who dreams of marrying her master in order to enjoy the books in Tianyi Pavilion is so obsessed with words, I am ashamed. What's more, the memorial archway of chastity that appears in front of us has been standing for many years, and it has been shaken before our eyes again after the baptism of wind and rain. How many people have left tears, just seeking a name that is calm and self-sufficient, and achieving some humiliation. In the snowy season, listen to a sentiment and hand-draw a expectation.