Childhood summer night composition 400 words

20 12-07- 1 1

Today, this summer night, the weather is hot and the heat is unbearable, so my family and I went out to the Moon Rabbit Square to enjoy the cool, just to feel cool. In this dark summer night, people can't help but think of the beautiful night of childhood summer.

When I was a child, I didn't feel so hot on summer nights. There was no air conditioner at that time, and even electric fans were rare. The most common cooling tool at night is the cattail fan. Shake it gently, and the cool wind will come face to face, and it feels very comfortable.

I lived in a tile house when I was a child. In summer, it is sultry indoors and cool outdoors. As soon as the afterglow of the sunset dispersed, my brother and I moved a big bamboo bed to our door. And I am always the first to lie flat on a bamboo bed wiped with a wet towel, and I feel a cool and comfortable feeling on my back. There were many mosquitoes in summer nights when I was a child. At night, adults lit a pile of wormwood by the bamboo bed at the door and used its smoke to disperse mosquitoes.

At that time, people in their hometown had the habit of going out to enjoy the cool in summer nights. After dinner, the aunts and grandmothers will each take a straw cattail leaf fan, carry a small stool, and sit under the old camphor tree not far from home in groups of three or five, while rocking the cattail leaf fan leisurely, telling anecdotes about the village: who made money by going out to work, whose daughter found a clever son-in-law and whose sow.

On the summer nights of childhood, my brother and I like to listen to grandparents telling stories. When a bright moon hangs in the treetops, the moonlight is like water, and the heat wave gradually recedes, grandpa will hold a cigarette and grandma will hand a cattail leaf fan and sit next to our bamboo bed. Those touching stories will float from grandpa's cigarette and shake out from grandma's fan. Mu's story, the story of the war of liberation, talking about ghosts and gods, folklore, etc. Let's listen with relish and completely forget to doze off.

On the summer night of childhood, under the old orange tree on the threshing floor not far from home, a group of friends lit a bonfire with bean stalks, and then asked a partner to climb the tree and shake the branches. Cicada rushed to the fire and was quickly caught by us. Every time I see an elf trapped in a trap, I feel sorry for it. I pick up one in my heart and care for it. Sometimes we put the cicada we caught in a homemade cage and listen to it sing, and sometimes we cook it and eat it. It's delicious.

On the summer night of childhood, there is another thing that can't be forgotten, and that is the sound of frogs that shocked all directions. If there are showers during the day, after the rain clears, you can enjoy the frog's smug demeanor by coming to bask in the valley and enjoying the cool air. Frogs in ponds, reservoirs, streams and field ditches sing and shake the trees as if they had heard orders.

The stars in the summer night ignore the changes of human time and still blink tirelessly. The cowherd looks at the Weaver Girl from a distance, and that infatuation will never change. But my childhood is gone forever. Those beautiful summer nights, those uncut times like rough jade, and those pure and flawless years are gone forever. ...