How to write a review of a book about the weather

The thread in a loving mother’s hand, the clothes on a wanderer’s body. There is a tight gap before leaving, but I am afraid I will return later... There are many flavors in life, but the sweetest and gentlest flavor is mother's love. It was the end of June when I was sprinting for the final exam. The scorching sun was shining brightly at this time, which was fatal to me. Under the scorching sun, red liquid came out of my unsatisfactory nose. So my mother always worked tirelessly to cook mung bean soup for me again and again. Once, our class was having a physical education class. Suddenly, I felt something hot coming out of my nose. Oh my God, the new yellow T-shirt my mother bought for me was dyed red. I was immediately sent to the infirmary... After a while, the nosebleed stopped, but the new T-shirt my mother bought me turned a little red. I don’t want my mother to know that my nose is bleeding today and then cook me mung bean soup again without any boredom. Mom has caught a cold these days, and I don't want her to worry about me anymore. I kept thinking about this problem on the way home... When I got home, I looked at the dazzling red spots on the clothes. I felt uneasy... So I plucked up the courage, opened the door of my mother's bedroom and said, "Mom, I'm back." When my mother saw the red spots on my clothes, her smiling expression immediately turned serious, "Is that right? I have a nosebleed today!" Mom asked anxiously. "Oh, no, no, this - I accidentally smeared it on during art class today." After I said that, I immediately ran back to my room in a hurry... After dinner, my mother went to my room. It seemed to me that my mother had done nothing, and I slept peacefully... When I got up the next day, I found a bowl of cold mung bean soup on the dining table. There is a note next to the mung bean soup: Dear son, drink the mung bean soup quickly. You didn't have art class yesterday! At this time, I remembered the vague sounds of opening the door, turning on the lights, turning off the lights, and closing the door when I was sleeping last night... Looking at this bowl of mung bean soup, I seemed to see the back of my mother's hard work; I drank this bowl of mung beans The soup seems to taste like mother's love. No, this is the taste of maternal love.

I was drinking this bowl of mung bean soup. Somehow, it was sweet and a little salty...