The girl who loves flowers

The dandelion hairs are like the parachutes of the little ants in the country, and after a while of drifting in the air in an artificial windstorm, they fly away and disappear. In the springtime meadow, the children were looking for the shaggy dandelions, racing to be the first. I recalled my childhood when I followed my friends back and forth on the grassland, and I also gave my grandson, my little son, a fuzzy look: "Bring a lantern, hold a lantern.

"Carry lanterns, hold lanterns, hire girls, carry boxes, poof!"

The youngest son was so happy that he picked all the fuzz from the dandelions in the yard and blew it with all his breath in his little mouth. The hairs fluttered like chicken lice, scattered all over the small yard, and some flew over the fence to the neighboring yard.

Once rooted, the dandelion is not afraid to be trampled and ravaged, but still rises again and again to produce tiny flowers!

I love its patience, strength, simplicity, and beauty, and I once transplanted one in my yard, and it has been eight years now. Although I love it and transplanted it, the motive was not for the sake of elegance or fun. Didn't we walk back and forth in the fields to look for weeds in the heat of the war? What a miserable time it was! Chicken tendons and celery, which were always appreciated only as seasonal wild vegetables, were not considered wild vegetables and became delicious.

We chopped up some wild vegetables that we can't even remember the names of now and cooked them together to make an unpalatable paste that we didn't even bother to end the bowl, and a few times we ate dandelions. According to the news magazine, the dandelion in boiling water scalded, to remove the bitter taste will be delicious, we have made it once, but no longer have the courage to find to eat. I was looking for dandelions this time when I happened to remember the nursery rhyme I sang as a child and planted one in the yard.

The dandelion was reluctant to be relocated at first, and it clung to the ground near its roots, so it seemed to have suffered so much that people must have thought it had died. But after some time, it looked alive again, and after two years it produced beautiful flowers. I thought dandelions were always lying on the ground, but after moving to a vegetable garden where the soil was soft, I thought they would be like vegetables, with their young green leaves rushing up to the sky, which was unexpected.

Since then, the family of dandelions in my yard has been multiplying year after year.

"You're so fresh, you've planted dandelions in your yard."

A woman from the neighborhood laughed at us when she came to see the dandelions. I didn't intend to plant dandelions but just let them grow. My son, who is like a grandson, came to our house by chance, just like the dandelions. This just turned one-year-old boy, not dandelion a year late to my house.

The boy is the same as the dandelion that clings to the rooted soil and refuses to be plucked, and when he first came, he was very depressed and had no spirit. This "dandelion son" was deprived of the earth where he was raised - the war took away the parents from this child who was just one year old. I would like to cry out silently to the two gifts that the war has left to my family.

"Know that you have lived bravely from being trampled and ravaged. If you are trampled and ravaged again in the future, live bravely, but do not taste the suffering that you have already tasted!"

I felt this emotion. And my grandson-like little son blew the fuzzy hair of dandelions: "Carry lanterns, hold lanterns, hire girls, carry boxes ......"

I am a girl who loves flowers, since I was a child I love flowers, once I see flowers, I can not walk. My mother said I was a little flower bug, and my father said I was a little bee. My favorite flower is the dandelion flower, which is called the "little paratrooper" in seconds. I love the fact that it floats from a high altitude, that it can make its home anywhere, that it grows stubbornly wherever it is, and that it is not afraid of a thousand dangers and dances in the air with the wind ...... I was five years old that year. Once, a chance, I found that I put on the windowsill a just removed the flowers but did not pour the soil out of the pot, issued two small buds to, I fixed my eyes, yo, or a small one! I was so happy that I jumped up and down and ran to my mom to tell her exactly what I saw, and dragged her to the windowsill to look at the little buds. Mom said, "This is the sprout of a dandelion seed." Under the careful care of my mother and me, the two little buds grew up, clad in long turquoise jagged leaves, and among the leaves, grew a cylindrical flower stem with flat, bulging buds, which slowly swelled up and split open, all producing small, yellow flowers. They swayed in the wind as if they were saying to me, "Thank you! Thank you!" Soon, the two small flowers gradually became wilted, each wearing a small snowy white velvet cap. After a night, the white caps on the bigger flowers were gone. I was so sad that I ran to my mom and choked with tears and said, "Mom, a dandelion's white ...... white fleece cap was ...... taken away." Mom touched my head and told me in a whisper: "The white velvet cap on the dandelion's head is its seed, each seed has a handful of small white hairs, the seeds are crowded together, it becomes a white velvet cap. When the wind blows, the 'little umbrella soldiers' float up in the wind and go to their new homes." Mom brought me to the windowsill, and ah, a cool breeze blew, and another little flower's white velvet hat flew away. I waved and shouted, "Goodbye, little parachutist!" How can I forget this wonderful story of the dandelion?

The dandelion hairs are like the parachutes of the little ants in the country, and after a while of drifting in the air in an artificial windstorm, they fly away and disappear. In the springtime meadow, the children were looking for the shaggy dandelions, racing to be the first. I recalled my childhood when I followed my friends back and forth on the grassland, and I also gave my grandson, my little son, a fuzzy look: "Bring a lantern, hold a lantern.

"Carry lanterns, hold lanterns, hire girls, carry boxes, poof!"

The youngest son was so happy that he picked all the fuzz from the dandelions in the yard and blew it with all his breath in his little mouth. The hairs fluttered like chicken lice, scattered all over the small yard, and some flew over the fence to the neighboring yard.

Once rooted, the dandelion is not afraid to be trampled and ravaged, but still rises again and again to produce tiny flowers!

I love its patience, strength, simplicity, and beauty, and I once transplanted one in my yard, and it has been eight years now. Although I love it and transplanted it, the motive was not for the sake of elegance or fun. Didn't we walk back and forth in the fields to look for weeds in the heat of the war? What a miserable time it was! Chicken tendons and celery, which were always appreciated only as seasonal wild vegetables, were not considered wild vegetables and became delicious.

We chopped up some wild vegetables that we can't even remember the names of now and cooked them together to make an unpalatable paste that we didn't even bother to end the bowl, and a few times we ate dandelions. According to the news magazine, the dandelion in boiling water scalded, to remove the bitter taste will be delicious, we have made it once, but no longer have the courage to find to eat. I was looking for dandelions this time when I happened to remember the nursery rhyme I sang as a child and planted one in the yard.

The dandelion was reluctant to be relocated at first, and it clung to the ground near its roots, so it seemed to have suffered so much that people must have thought it had died. But after some time, it looked alive again, and after two years it produced beautiful flowers. I thought dandelions were always lying on the ground, but after moving to a vegetable garden where the soil was soft, I thought they would be like vegetables, with their young green leaves rushing up to the sky, which was unexpected.

Since then, the family of dandelions in my yard has been multiplying year after year.

"You're so fresh, you've planted dandelions in your yard."

A woman from the neighborhood laughed at us when she came to see the dandelions. I didn't intend to plant dandelions but just let them grow. My son, who is like a grandson, came to our house by chance, just like the dandelions. This just turned one-year-old boy, not dandelion a year late to my house.

The boy is the same as the dandelion that clings to the rooted soil and refuses to be plucked, and when he first came, he was very depressed and had no spirit. This "dandelion son" was deprived of the earth where he was raised - the war took away the parents from this child who was just one year old. I would like to cry out silently to the two gifts that the war has left to my family.

"Know that you have lived bravely from being trampled and ravaged. If you are trampled and ravaged again in the future, live bravely, but do not taste the suffering that you have already tasted!"

I felt this emotion. And my grandson-like little son blew the fuzzy hair of dandelions: "Carry lanterns, hold lanterns, hire girls, carry boxes ......"

I am a girl who loves flowers, since I was a child I love flowers, once I see flowers, I can not walk. My mother said I was a little flower bug, and my father said I was a little bee. My favorite flower is the dandelion flower, which is called the "little paratrooper" in seconds. I love the fact that it floats from a high altitude, that it can make its home anywhere, that it grows stubbornly wherever it is, and that it is not afraid of a thousand dangers and dances in the air with the wind ...... I was five years old that year. Once, a chance, I found that I put on the windowsill a just removed the flowers but did not pour the soil out of the pot, issued two small buds to, I fixed my eyes, yo, or a small one! I was so happy that I jumped up and down and ran to my mom to tell her exactly what I saw, and dragged her to the windowsill to look at the little buds. Mom said, "This is the sprout of a dandelion seed." Under the careful care of my mother and me, the two little buds grew up, clad in long turquoise jagged leaves, and among the leaves, grew a cylindrical flower stem with flat, bulging buds, which slowly swelled up and split open, all producing small, yellow flowers. They swayed in the wind as if they were saying to me, "Thank you! Thank you!" Soon, the two small flowers gradually became wilted, each wearing a small snowy white velvet cap. After a night, the white caps on the bigger flowers were gone. I was so sad that I ran to my mom and choked with tears and said, "Mom, a dandelion's white ...... white fleece cap was ...... taken away." Mom touched my head and told me in a whisper: "The white velvet cap on the dandelion's head is its seed, each seed has a handful of small white hairs, the seeds are crowded together, it becomes a white velvet cap. When the wind blows, the 'little umbrella soldiers' float up in the wind and go to their new homes." Mom brought me to the windowsill, and ah, a cool breeze blew, and another little flower's white velvet hat flew away. I waved and shouted, "Goodbye, little parachutist!" How can I forget this wonderful story of the dandelion?