1. viết 1 đoạn văn nói về địa phương của e #Cảm ơn mn người nha #Không chép mạng
1. viết 1 đoạn văn nói về địa phương của e
#Cảm ơn mn người nha
#Không chép mạng
1 bình luận về “1. viết 1 đoạn văn nói về địa phương của e #Cảm ơn mn người nha #Không chép mạng”
Each of us has our own homeland. Homeland is a bunch of sweet star fruit… Mother goes back to the conical hat to cover…”. A place to leave the best memories of life. Even if we have to go far away, we always remember our ancestral homeland.
I grew up in a low-lying area, where there are straight fields where storks fly. And perhaps the rice fields in my hometown always have the attraction to pull people away to think about where their umbilical cords were buried. Spring mornings standing at the top of the village and looking at the rice fields is so much fun! The spring wind is mildly rotten, the waves are undulating in waves, each wave chasing each other far away. A flock of white storks spread their wings and flew over the background of the deep blue sky. Especially when farmers go to work, the fields are bustling with songs and songs with young men and women. Each flock of colorful butterflies seems to play with the green rice paddies. On the days when the rice season is in full bloom, if anyone stands far away, looking back, they will see a vast and dazzling golden sea. Scattered throughout the field are scenes of farmers reaping rice, undulating white hats. In the afternoon, when the wind blows gently, the rice gently shakes and whispers as if whispering to each other. On autumn afternoons, the mist covers the fields, looking like a thin, white smoke from afar. In the morning, the mist melts away, leaving glittering dew drops on the rice leaves. When the sun rises to warm the fields, the rays of the sun shine on the dewdrops, it seems like countless tiny pearls, shining with colorful rays of light, looking very beautiful. In my neighborhood, there are brothers and sisters who go far away, every time they visit their hometown, they also visit the fields. They were passionately watching the sparrows fly in the rice fields. Sometimes it completely landed and then flew up to the blue sky and called to each other.
I love the fields of my village, love my homeland. Here, I was born and raised in this world. Now, this valley has “iron buffalo” running across the field. High voltage electricity lights up the village. Life is full of happiness on the road. nha
I grew up in a low-lying area, where there are straight fields where storks fly. And perhaps the rice fields in my hometown always have the attraction to pull people away to think about where their umbilical cords were buried. Spring mornings standing at the top of the village and looking at the rice fields is so much fun! The spring wind is mildly rotten, the waves are undulating in waves, each wave chasing each other far away. A flock of white storks spread their wings and flew over the background of the deep blue sky. Especially when farmers go to work, the fields are bustling with songs and songs with young men and women. Each flock of colorful butterflies seems to play with the green rice paddies. On the days when the rice season is in full bloom, if anyone stands far away, looking back, they will see a vast and dazzling golden sea. Scattered throughout the field are scenes of farmers reaping rice, undulating white hats. In the afternoon, when the wind blows gently, the rice gently shakes and whispers as if whispering to each other. On autumn afternoons, the mist covers the fields, looking like a thin, white smoke from afar. In the morning, the mist melts away, leaving glittering dew drops on the rice leaves. When the sun rises to warm the fields, the rays of the sun shine on the dewdrops, it seems like countless tiny pearls, shining with colorful rays of light, looking very beautiful. In my neighborhood, there are brothers and sisters who go far away, every time they visit their hometown, they also visit the fields. They were passionately watching the sparrows fly in the rice fields. Sometimes it completely landed and then flew up to the blue sky and called to each other.
I love the fields of my village, love my homeland. Here, I was born and raised in this world. Now, this valley has “iron buffalo” running across the field. High voltage electricity lights up the village. Life is full of happiness on the road. nha