There are many wheat fields in my hometown. Whenever autumn comes, I stand in the wheat field and look around. A golden world is blowing with the autumn wind. Wheat fields are like waves, so beautiful!
Every morning when the sun rises, the rooster will crow and let people go to work. On the way to the wheat field, you can pick a flower at will, and you will feel a fragrance. While the dew is still sleeping on the flowers, the industrious people have gone to work. Some of those old people are exercising, and some will walk around the wheat field once or twice!
The wheat field in the morning is fresh. When you see a golden field, your mood will be cool and comfortable, and your happy day will begin. You can walk around the wheat field several times, enjoy the sunshine bath, help people clean up the wheat field and weed. At noon, people will go back to eat.
In the afternoon, many children will get together and play hide-and-seek and cricket in the wheat field. Although they are not as good as the children in the city, they are happy. You can watch them play or play with them. In short, the wheat field in the afternoon is immersed in joy!
In the evening, when the sun sets, you watch the sun set, the sky becomes blue, people become scarce, the wheat fields become quiet and motionless, and the whole village was once shrouded in silence.
Composition describing the wheat field 450 words 2: Wheat field (5 17 words)
Looking at the clear sky in the golden wheat field, several larks shuttled through the faint clouds. In the distance, the sky and the earth interweave into a colorful line. "That should be the end of life." I asked my grandmother who bent down to find something in the wheat field.
Even though many years have passed, the scene of me sitting cross-legged on the wheat harvester is still vivid, not only the picturesque scenery, but also the time that has passed.
Almost every time I was a child. My grandfather drives a wheat harvester, and my grandmother picks things up next to me. I sat next to my grandfather and packed the car. When the car started, I clapped my hands happily and tried to press a button dishonestly. At this time, grandpa always holds my little hand without trace and pushes it aside with a smile.
Golden wheat has been with me year after year. Grandparents accompany wheat year after year. Time moistens my body. Grandpa and I can't sit in the carriage. When I grow up, I can only stand in the wheat field, looking at the wheat harvester with a touch of nostalgia and reluctance, looking at my grandfather who is getting thinner in the carriage, and following my parents back to Yantai.
It was not until grandpa died of stomach cancer that tears flooded all the nerves. It was not until five years later that he dared to turn it into words, engraved on the shore of the long river of time and printed on the golden wheat field.
"Grandma, grandpa should be watching us on that colorful line, right?" As I spoke, I bent my right arm and wanted to say hello to grandpa. Suddenly, I came to my senses and put down my right arm unnaturally. The things in my mouth are salty, a bit like tears.
Composition describing the wheat field 450 words three: the wheat field in my hometown (4 13 words)
When I mentioned my hometown, what impressed me was the wheat field.
In early winter, farmers will start planting wheat after harvesting soybeans and corn. In the field, the "rumbling" sound of the seeder drowned out the "whirring" sound of the north wind. They are sowing the seeds of wealth for farmers.
In the middle of winter, the cold wind came and the world was boundless. At this time, the field is lonely and lifeless. Only the wheat seedlings struggled to grow under the snow and ice.
Spring has arrived, and the wheat seedlings have been in the field for a winter, and they have long wanted to see the outside world. So they burst out of the ground, poked their heads out, watched curiously, and sucked the crystal dew. This field is full of vitality.
Brother Xia came at a brisk pace. At this time, wheat became a mother, carrying heavy ears of wheat. A breeze blew and they bent down. The ears of wheat opened their mouths slightly, as if calling the farmer's uncle to come and harvest.
Harvesters were running in the fields, and the children on holiday rushed to the threshing floor to help their parents dry the wheat. The adults talked about this year's harvest while working. The field is a scene of joy.
I love the wheat fields in my hometown. Farmers guard the wheat fields and work hard all year round to get a bumper harvest. We should also study as hard as they do, let ourselves grow, sow hope and harvest dreams.
Composition describing the wheat field 450 words four: golden wheat field (5 1 1 word)
The wheat fields in June are like shadows, layered in my dreams. I may be a bird who loves wheat, or I may be a person who loves harvest. Even though I have been blown by the bleak wind in October, I still wander in the golden color of June. Until one day I decided to give up.
It is a golden wheat field with extraordinary strength. From near to far, it surges lightly. The air is always filled with the fragrance of wheat, mature fragrance and shocking fragrance. The bright sunshine in June gently covered the golden sea and gave me unforgettable memories. In the golden streamer, it is my depression. How can I reduce the prosperity of this place? I'm worried that being barren will bring erosion, cold and emptiness from heaven to earth. I just want to keep this wheat field as much as possible. For me, it is not a wheat field waiting for the end of harvest, but a fantasy that makes me wait. Its deep, quiet, rich and rich wheat fragrance has already invaded my body and weakened my will. I got nothing, no food. The initial expectation was suddenly destroyed, but I was still drifting away, bound by nightmares, blurring everything. Somehow, I still have a trace of reason. After all, the dreamland is false, and the energy I invested is of course gone, and I never came back. Expectation and hard work are not for appreciation. I should repay my efforts and fulfill my promise with both hands. And I prefer to give up the sweetness in my mouth and the golden sea. However, every lovely ear of wheat will not disappear soon, and I walk slowly. ...
Behind him, there is a golden wheat field, full of color. I am entangled in this kind of happiness and sadness, and I am reluctant to go away forever.
Composition describing the wheat field 450 words five: the wheat field in the countryside (425 words)
Grandparents' hometown is in a small village in Xuancheng, Anhui Province. It's beautiful!
Farmers are transplanting rice seedlings in lush rice fields, and birds are walking on the sown land ... However, the most striking thing is the green wheat fields.
I found that wheat field when I was chasing hens in grandma's backyard. I was so excited at that time that I quickly called my parents to come and see.
At first glance, I saw an endless wheat field extending to the horizon. From the air, it looks like a big clean green blanket lying in the village. In the wheat field, several farmers were pulling weeds hard, and the sun made them sweat, but they didn't care.
If you climb to the roof and look at it, you will feel that it is an endless sea, and those humble weeds are seaweed growing on the bottom of the sea. That breeze is sea breeze. Suddenly, a breeze blew, and I saw a huge wave in the wheat field rippling into the sky. Those houses seem to have become boats, bravely fighting the wind and waves on the rough sea. ...
I suddenly feel like an ear of wheat, fluttering in the breeze. Several red dragonflies flew by, sheltering from the rain under my leaves; A few sparrows flew in to help me peck off aphids. ...
It took me a long time to come to my senses and remember that I am not an ear of wheat, I am looking at the wheat field.
I love the countryside here, and I love this green wheat field.