my hometown

People say that the nostalgia is always memorable. Yes, the nostalgia is an old and deep song, always playing the melody of love in my heart. The curved loess trail in the hometown, the blossoming yellow flowers by the small river, the kind and kind villagers... everything in the hometown is concentrated in my love song.

Perhaps it is the cockroach's leaf flute, maybe it's the whispering purple swallow, no, it's the faint yellow flower of the hometown, which touched my dream of returning home.

My hometown is a small village, and a small river flows through the village. When it is not in the spring, the river bank will be full of yellow flowers, one flower and one flower. The color is faint, but it looks so bright again. They are on the wasteland, hidden in the weeds, naughty to the people, and in the yellow flowers, what a wonderful world! Here is another natural "grassland". The branches and leaves of yellow flowers are fat pastures. The cattle and sheep that people feed are stocked here, so people love it more and love the yellow flowers here.

At that time, the life of the village was as dull and quiet as the clear river. When people have finished doing things, they sit on the yellow land in front of each house, shake the banana fan, and say this old and distant story, and the story is always eight cents, Tiangong...

After a few years, is the village still so beautiful? Is the yellow flower on the bank of the river still so bright? In the spring season, I left the noisy urban area and returned to my hometown I missed day and night.

The car has always sent me to the streets of the village. I was amazed to find that the winding loess trail in memory has been replaced by a wide road; the low-rise and dilapidated houses on both sides of the road disappeared, replaced by a new tile house, which was filled with streets. The trees, not far away, also have a flower bed, although not large, but the green leaves, colorful, add to the countryside infinite vitality.

Changed, the village has changed a lot. I sighed like this and walked into the door of the second uncle. Just entering the yard, I was warmly welcomed: chickens, ducks, and geese played the unique "welcome song" of the farmer, and the little yellow dog shook his tail with joy. At this time, Erqi came out of the house and was pleasantly shouted: "Super child, holiday, how come back and don't make a call?" As he said, he pulled me into the house, and another gust of wind came out. Yellow orange and orange apricots. I looked at the second scorpion, I really couldn’t think of the silent screams of the past, and now I’m so vocal. I asked: "Hey, what about the second uncle?" "He, he went to the factory early, and he was too busy to even have his own responsibility for the field. Hey, now we have started the agricultural and sideline food processing factory, your uncle He is still a consultant!" Two faces with a smile, and the eyebrows are filled with joy.

In the evening, the village did not enter the night, the children were sitting at home watching TV, and the adults gathered to talk about the exciting things, but the topic of people is no longer the Eight Immortals, but how to make the countryside more beautiful. To make life richer...

The night in my hometown is such an intoxicating person. I am not tired at all. I am going out quickly to find the small river in my memory and look for the yellow flowers in my dreams. Unconsciously came to a paved gravel site, where the lights are bright and the wood is piled up, apparently a tall building under construction. I suddenly remembered that this is not the place where the clear river flows. Isn't the yellow flower that has been in the dream for a long time been blooming here? where it goes? Where did the beautiful river and yellow flower go?

I hurried to the grandfather of the nursing site. He pointed to the construction site and his face was filled with a bright smile. He said: "The construction is in the cultural center of the village. It is funded by everyone. The river you said, The river was led to build a beautiful small lake; there were still wild flowers, but I couldn’t miss the big thing...” I couldn’t help but feel awkward. But looking at the lights on the construction site, looking at the big smile on the old man's face, I suddenly thought that when the cultural center rises here, at night, the shining windows are not a flower. A beautiful yellow flower?

what! The yellow flower of my hometown, a note that never disappears in my love song!

Fifth grade: Purple Yan happiness