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发表于2019-11-28 11:07 楼主
ick the persimmons!" F
Autumn is the season of harvest, harvesting the fruits of labor, harvesting the joy of family love! In my childhood autumn memories, it seems that only the persimmon tree and the grandfather who is as old as the persimmon tree are coming. Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching. I bought some persimmons at home. Looking at these persimmons, I remembered my childhood when I was a child. Working in the field, I went to the persimmon tree and held my grandfather's hand to coquettishly: "Grandpa, what is this?" "It's a persimmon tree!" "Is it delicious?" "It's delicious mokingusacigarettes.com, sweet!" "Then I will eat it in the future." It was such a simple conversation that made me remember this persimmon. Therefore, every day in the future, I will take my grandfather's hand and ask, "Grandpa, when is the persimmon ripe?" Every time this time, my grandfather will pick me up with his weather-beaten big hand, ride it on his neck, take I walked to the persimmon tree and pointed at the white yellowish persimmon flower under the tree and explained to me, "Oh my dear grandson, see if you can wait for these persimmon flowers to fall and bear the persimmon. Grandpa will pick one for you Big basket, eat as much as you want! "I remember that old and very soft voice and the smile on the face of a brilliant chrysanthemum. I looked down again and found that Grandpa was looking at me Marlboro Lights, and his eyes were sharp and crooked into a small crescent. I seemed to see myself in his eyes. The loving eyes contained the grandfather's petting. Finally, with my hope, autumn is here! The plump persimmons on the persimmon tree are like small lanterns, burning the sky in the distance. I took my grandfather's hand and ran to the persimmon tree. Grandpa seemed to be more excited than me. He picked me up and used hard Beard me, itchy people. "Smell it fast, there is a sweet smell in the air, pick the persimmons!" For a while, the field was full of laughter and laughter from the grandparents Cheap Cigarettes. I went home and took the tools. Grandpa held me up with that increasingly rough hand, and put me on a slightly stable branch, until I stood firmly, my hands were released, but still guarded me, mouth I mumbled, "You have to be careful." I cut the first persimmon with scissors. The plump skin was bright and shiny. In the sun, I could even see the veins of the flesh. That ��s it, not long. Grandpa picked a large basket of persimmons. When I got home, I could n��t wait for my grandpa to peel me a persimmon. I did n��t know if it was Grandpa ��s hand strength or the persimmon was too tender. Grandpa just squeezed it gently, and the peel of the persimmon fell off, exposing the plump flesh, and mouthing. My mouth was full of sweetness, but Grandpa ��cleaned up�� the peel. Now, I went to school in a hurry, rarely returned to Grandpa, but never noticed that his two wives were already pale, and his eyes became cloudy. Every autumn, eating the persimmons sent by my grandpa is bitter. I used to remember that kind of sweetness in my heart.
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