Beautiful prose works about summer.

One night in summer, the stars were shining in the sky, and a cool breeze dispersed the residual heat during the day, and the earth was silent. The following are the classic prose works about summer that I brought to you for appreciation.

A classic prose work describing summer Part I: Xia Yue's surprise magpie in memory, the breeze chirping at midnight. Daohuaxiang said a bumper harvest. Listen to the frogs. In the fragrance of rice and flowers, people talk about the harvest of a year, and frogs croak in their ears, as if in a bumper harvest year.

Xin Qiji

There is a sunny day with high clouds overhead, and there is a place where the wind is light and the water is cool. The faint summer feelings are gradually blooming on my plain paper. In the passionate summer, the dew on the flowers in the morning is her affectionate tears, the rising sun is her smiling face when she is happy, the noon sun is her ferocious when she is angry, and the breeze in the shade is her singing when she is coquetry. Many girls prefer summer because it is a season of beauty and passion. Walking on the street in summer, women wearing different styles and colorful dresses are flowing scenery. It is no exaggeration to use the word "live color and fragrance" on them.

In the summer in my memory, impatiens bloomed in my heart with the bright moonlight. Red and white flowers hang on the green leaves like wind chimes. My sister next door is very beautiful. She took the crimson impatiens, mashed it with cigarette foam and alum, put it on her finger, wrapped it in a big plant leaf and opened it in a few days. Ten nails are as bright as red. ? Tree-lined, long summer, balcony reflection into the pond. ? It was also my scene in the summer, and of course cicadas were indispensable. There is a pond behind my hometown, next to willows and willows. In summer, cicadas hide in the trees and tirelessly sing bel canto, especially during lunch break. After a long time, they get used to it and treat it as a lullaby. Without their accompaniment, they feel lonely! Willow leaves dancing in the wind? Sasha vujacic made a sound, and some yellow leaves fell with the wind and landed on the clear pond, like yellow dragonflies standing by the water. The fish in the pond were blown by the wind, thinking that something delicious had arrived. Hey? Slowly stick your head out of the water, then circle around the willow leaves and play and chase happily! Catkin floating in the air, like a gentle rain.

The peaches on the peach tree in front of grandpa's house next door are ripe, full and round, but the top of the green skin is red like rouge, like the smiling face of a shy little girl. We are salivating, but we dare not pick it. After all, it's not our own thing. My brother slept naked under the peach tree, waiting for a gust of wind to blow down the ripe peach, and took the opportunity to hold it in his hand. It's really interesting to think about it now. The pears behind my house are ripe, too. It is a kind of green pear with sweet juice and fragrant entrance. The tomatoes planted on the shelf are also ripe, like red lanterns, so lovely that people can't bear to taste them. Morning glory, wrapped around pear trees, grows naturally, like small horns, so people also call it? Morning glory? . In my impression, morning glory is purple and pink, petite flowers stand brightly in the sun, bathed in the morning sunshine, more and more graceful. The unknown morning glory is like the wild lily growing in the valley. Nobody cares about it, but it is complacent. We are busy in the world of mortals every day, and most of us like this ordinary and simple morning glory. Once beautiful only we know, even if it is insignificant, it is still blooming again and again. Those faint scents support us to never look back and stride forward.

? The moon on the horizon rose to the top of the tree, scaring away the magpies perched on the branches. The cool evening breeze seems to have spread to cicadas in the distance. ? I like quiet country nights in summer best. A tall bright moon hung on the ancient locust tree, and the breeze was blowing gently. The old man who likes drinking can't wait to warm a pot of moonlight. Under the starry sky, fireflies emit silver light, and the twinkling stars write romantic and colorful gentle chapters for summer nights. We chased fireflies, found a transparent glass bottle and put the caught fireflies in the bottle. A single spark can start a prairie fire, and the light from the gathered fireflies can really light up our way home. The moored boat lies quietly in the middle of the river, which reminds me? Wild crossing, not by boat? This artistic conception. Waves of frogs from far and near, from near and far, sounded in my ear, like playing a lullaby, accompanying me into a lucid dream.

The most unforgettable thing is that when I was in the third grade of primary school, I went to the school next door with my parents and had a good time with a girl in my class. After so many years, I can't remember what that girl looks like. It seems to be a very white and elegant girl. That summer, I often went home with her after school at noon. There is a small pond in front of her house, in which blue sky and white clouds are reflected. In the clear pond, groups of free fish swim around, which is very comfortable. We rolled up our trouser legs and stood by the dock of the river pond. A chill came from our feet. We lowered our heads and whispered to the little fish. From time to time, there are small fish sliding under our feet, which makes our feet itch. Looking up, we can see the blue sky inlaid with white clouds. This is the real harmony between man and nature. Looking back now, that summer was still beautiful, and that pond was also the most beautiful pond I have ever seen.

Rainbow after rain, red dragonfly in sunset glow, big lobster swaggering, cotton as white as snow ..... all these decorated the summer in my memory. The summer in memory, like a meaningful and beautiful poem, cherishes countless magnificent dreams. It reminds me every time that the world has become crystal clear and the world has become extremely gentle and open.

Classic prose work 2 describing summer: the mottled sunshine on the desk through the glass window this summer afternoon, the insects struggling on the ground, the rumble of air conditioning outside the window, and the songs circulating in the computer. Cars sped by on the highway, the air Ran Ran transpiration, as if to see the slow flow of time.

Every summer, there will always be a time when the weather is sultry and people are lazy, and the moist and hot water vapor in the air sticks to them, giving people a moldy illusion. On sunny days, there are only pious children who go to cram schools in the street except those who go to work and those who are sad. I remember many years ago, I was so stupid that I lived a monotonous life between school and home. I don't know how many wheel tracks are printed on a short road, and I don't know how many overlaps there are.

I don't think there are many traces of the towering poplars on the street corner to enjoy their germination and defoliation.

Sometimes the clouds are thick, the sun is not shining, but it is extremely depressed. People know that this is usually a precursor to heavy rain. Residents in twos and threes gather under a big tree with a big cattail fan to enjoy the cool. Lonely old people are drinking tea slowly under the street pavilion, gossiping about one build and what did not build, looking up from time to time and wondering when it will rain. It seems that there is new hope in the days. The wind was overwhelming, several muffled thunder, and huge raindrops were waiting for a while and then poked straight down. The person who was sick before breathed a sigh of relief and immediately became active. They hurried home with their heads in their hands, but their faces were filled with relaxed joy. Several windows facing the street quietly opened, and housewives looked at the rain all over the sky, and their eyebrows were filled with joy. The children of each family stretched out their small hands from the cracks and then the water column flowed down from the eaves in the corner, shouting happily, greeting friends across the street and telling jokes that only the other side could understand.

This summer, the rain is particularly abundant. There is a rain at both ends for three days, and most of the rest are cloudy. Even in the hottest period, it doesn't seem so difficult. The typhoon in the afterlife at the end of July seemed to ruin the whole summer.

Almost all of them are at school this summer. I like to eat in a small shop in front of the school, because there are several cordate telosma trees in the flower bed in front of the shop. At this time, it will give off a strong fragrance and mix in the night, as if it had returned to the taste of my mother calling for dinner when I was a child. The vines cut off from the school auditorium and teaching building due to the renovation in spring are gradually showing signs of recovery, and they are densely covered in corners. In a few more spring, they may return to the way they used to climb all over the walls.

After beginning of autumn, it rained a few times, and you can already feel a little cold. Although Wan Li still feels hot when there are no clouds, the unbearable sticky feeling in midsummer is gone. After being nourished by the steam this summer, the school lawn has grown wildly. There are also several weeds growing sporadically in the cracks of dormitory, teaching building and street floor tiles. Make some old schools look a bit ridiculous.

The lawn mower whizzed past, leaving a straw near the ground. I'm afraid this season won't grow much after this pruning. Grass clippings are flying, and the sun shines at noon, showing a little yellow. The grass juice evaporated, mixed with the smell of earth, and a smell of autumn came to my face. The school seems to be empty, and the sky seems to be much higher when you look up.

Summer is over. With the start of school, the renovation of the school is coming to an end. The street is paved with black asphalt, which gradually becomes thick after several days of trampling. The fallen leaves began to fall on the roadside and scattered on it. When the autumn wind blows, it is another scene.

Classic Prose Works on Summer Part III: Romance in Summer I love passionate summer.

I love Yuan Ye full of vitality and hope, and I love the tall and beautiful mountains. I love the melodious songs of birds in summer; I love the dense jungle scenery; I love the green seedlings on the black land, and I love the rushing river to smile all the way.

Like flying rain in summer, it cleans the world spotless, nourishes seedlings and moistens mountains. Like the fragrance of roses, like the delicate and charming of roses; I like the warmth and romance in summer. ...

Leaves are growing wildly, flowers are blooming, and green is spreading in seasonal rivers. Warm wind is affectionate, and kisses are picturesque; The drizzle is lingering, and the charming poems are out!

The mountain is the mother of water, the cloud is the lover of the wind, and the beautiful summer is the brocade left by the fairy, which makes the world colorful!

Listen, the bird's song is so euphemistic; You see, trees are thriving in summer, and branches and leaves are holding hands; I love every weak and tenacious life in the depths of the forest; I love that clear stream, flowing happily in the valleys and mountains.

Gorgeous sunset will soak the jungle; At the first dawn, the sun filled the ravine forest. Jade-like peaks stand tall and insert into the clouds; The morning mist, as white as colored silk, dances gently at the top of the cliff. Let the body and mind melt into this green leaf safely; Let go of distractions and let the true feelings accompany this silent mountain. ?

Summer dusk, the distant mountains contain Dai, and the sunset glow is gorgeous; The mist is soft and the smoke is curling. ...

Cicada's song is like a prelude to the movement, and beautiful notes are brushed by the valley stream; Frogs burst into gentle harmony, seagulls and herons sang softly like pearls scattered on a jade plate. Birds sing, the breathing in the abdomen, the knocking of woodpeckers, the mountains over the mountains ... the music is like flowing clouds, suddenly like moonlight ... endless tenderness and endless sighs.

Nature plays passionate melody at will, and summer music resounds through Shan Ye. Clear lake, sentimental blue sky, beautiful summer, magnificent rivers and mountains!

Listen. Voice of nature? Laugh at the brilliant sunset; Cicadas and birds make up a beautiful quatrain: even and even, like a song of life, written in Shan Ye, intoxicated in the heart. ...