Traditional Culture Encyclopedia - Weather forecast - Fushun West Lake composition should be written in spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Fushun West Lake composition should be written in spring, summer, autumn and winter.

summer

The blue sky in July hangs like a fireball, and the clouds seem to be melted by the sun and disappear without a trace.

Spring goes with the falling flowers, and summer comes with green leaves in the warm wind.

The early summer sun shone through the dense branches and leaves, and the ground was covered with shiny spots the size of copper coins.

The wind blows with a slight warmth, and the cuckoo calls from time to time, telling us that "spring has passed."

Grass, reeds and red, white and purple wildflowers are steamed by the fiery red sun hanging high in the air, and the air is filled with sweet and intoxicated breath.

In early summer, all kinds of wild flowers are in full bloom, red, purple, pink and yellow, like bright spots embroidered on green carpets; Crowds of bees are busy among the flowers, sucking the stamens and flying around with difficulty.

In midsummer, it is so hot that even dragonflies only dare to fly near the shade, as if they were afraid that the sun would burn their wings.

There is no cloud or wind in the sky, and the sun is burning overhead, and all the trees are standing there listlessly and lazily.

In midsummer July, there is not a cloud in the blue sky. The sun scorched the earth, the water in the river was hot, and the soil in the field smoked.

Under the scorching sun, on both sides of the road, ripe grains bent down and lowered their heads. Grasshoppers are as numerous as grass leaves, and then make a weak and noisy sound in wheat fields and rye fields, in wheat fields and rye fields, and among the reeds on the shore.

The sun is like a fireball, the light is burning, the road surface is scorched by the scorching sun, and a pile of white smoke is stepping down.

The weather is sultry and there is no wind at all. The thick air seems to have solidified.

The whole city is like a burnt-out brick kiln, which makes people breathless. Dogs lie prone on the ground with bright red tongues, and mules and horses have particularly large nostrils.

Flaming parachutes are hanging high in the air, so hot that fish in the river dare not surface and birds dare not fly out of the mountains. Even the dogs in the village just stick out their tongues and gasp endlessly.

That day, it was terribly hot. As soon as the sun came out, the ground was already on fire, and some gray gases, like clouds, like Feiyun, like fog, like fog, floated low in the air, making people feel breathless.

It was a long, rainy summer. The old loach in the field was turned white by the scorching sun. The stream near the village dropped several inches, and the stones above the water suddenly became bigger.

I don't know where the bird went; The vegetation is dejected and despondent, as if dying; Only cicadas keep chirping in the branches; It's really breaking gongs and drums to cheer for the scorching sun!

The willow trees in the street look ill, and the leaves are hanging with dust and rolling on the branches, and the branches are still. The street was so white that the vendors were afraid to shout, and the plexiglass signboard at the door of the store seemed to be sunburned.