春天的英语作文

【必备】春天的英语作文十篇

无论是在学校还是在社会中，大家一定都接触过作文吧，作文是人们把记忆中所存储的有关知识、经验和思想用书面形式表达出来的记叙方式。那么你知道一篇好的作文该怎么写吗？下面是小编帮大家整理的春天的英语作文10篇，欢迎大家分享。

The recovery of all things, flowers, green grass, willow germination, flower bud is … … oh! This is the spring of spring.

Ziyan's end finally broke the silence last winter, “ chirp ” call, wake-up sleep in the spring, the wind girl gently stroked the melody, the notes, into &ldquo &rdquo dripping dew;; playfully flying to the earth, oh! This is the first rain in spring.

Intermittent rain, wake up the sleeping earth, awakened the hibernating animal, at this moment a party to transform heaven and earth, happy!

Oh Spring, my favorite season.

She was the beginning of a good time and the end of a snow-white time. She, softly and gracefully, became the queen of the four seasons. The following are the reasons I like her.

Farmers began planting, the birds begin to sing, the animal began to cheer, without stop rain, the seed moisture, hang up the sun, let the seed of warm, fish from the water looked up the breath of rain, animal in the rain shower, how wonderful!

I went to the rose buds, with gentle hands, I went to the germination of willow, with its long braids, I walked to the lawn, see grass flowers erect, like each other in greeting!

Flying over a group of geese in the sky, they have just come back and go to the Carnival Party.

I love spring, according to the warm sunshine in the body, on the way home, I enjoyed every spring to give!

"Spring, an hour in the morning is worth two in the evening". Spring is the most beautiful season in a year. The twinkling of an eye, charactizing a fine spring has come.

I myself have a heart in the spring. After spring, with tender green grass, grass, crammed with all sorts of flowers, the grass decorated like to embroider the flower green carpet. I walk on the grass, feel the foot soft, very comfortable. There are many butterflies on the grass. They were wearing colorful make-up, or flying up and down, or through the grass. To go far, a large area of a large fields, fields, fruit trees into shadow, red fruit hanging branches, like on the trees full of numerous large stones. Over the orchard, and many birds fly light dances; They are covered with colorful feathers, singing songs. Through the forest a brook, extends to the green grass, from my feet flowed. Sends out the ringing sound when water bottom, stream, want to heart making the music of this song is moving, and the song of birds should be matched.

On both sides of trails, covered with many beautiful flowers, yellow, white, red, purple... It's colorful, very beautiful flowers. Especially flowers everywhere filled with large poppy flower. It is so bright, red dazzling, bright yellow, under the sun, people's eyes were d ……此处隐藏1098个字……y years of work, and a full nine pages about every trip and vacation he'd ever taken.

In July, Grandpa worsened. One hot afternoon arrived when no one else was at his bedside. He was glad to have me there, and reached out his hand to pull me close.

I told Grandpa what I had learned — that few flowers last from April to November. Some of the most beautiful bloom for only a month at most. To really enjoy a garden, you have to plant corners and drifts and rows of flowers that will bloom and grace the garden, each in its own season.

His eyes listened to every word. Then, another discovery: "If I want a garden like yours, Grandpa, I'm going to have to work." His grin laughed at me, and his eyes teased me.

"Grandpa, in your life right now the chrysanthemums are in bloom. Chrysanthemums and roses." Tears clouded both our eyes. Neither of us feared this last flower of fall, but the wait for spring seems longest in November. We knew how much we would miss each other.

Sitting there, I suddenly felt that the best gift I could give Grandpa would be to give voice to the testimony inside both of us. He had never spoken of his testimony to me, but it was such a part of his life that I had never questioned if Grandpa knew. I knew he knew.

"Grandpa," I began — and his grip tightened as if he knew what I was going to say — "I want you to know that I have a testimony. I know the Savior lives. I bear witness to you that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I love the Restoration and joy in it." The steadiness in Grandpa's eyes told how much he felt it too. "I bear witness that President Kimball is a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true, Grandpa. Every part of me bears this witness."

"Grandpa," I added quietly, "I know our Father in Heaven loves you." Unbidden, unexpected, the Spirit bore comforting, poignant testimony to me of our Father's love for my humble, quiet Grandpa.

A tangible sense of Heavenly Father's compassionate awareness of Grandpa's suffering surrounded us and held us. It was so personal and powerful that no words were left to me — only tears of gratitude and humility, tears of comfort.

Grandpa and I wept together.

It was the end of August when Grandpa died, the end of summer. As we were choosing flowers from the florist for Grandpa's funeral, I slipped away to Grandpa's garden and walked with my memories of columbine and Sweet William. Only the tall lavender and white phlox were in bloom now, and some baby's breath in another corner.

On impulse, I cut the prettiest strands of phlox and baby's breath and made one more arrangement for the funeral. When they saw it, friends and family all smiled to see Grandpa's flowers there. We all felt how much Grandpa would have liked that.

The October after Grandpa's death, I planted tulip and daffodil bulbs, snowdrops, crocuses, and bluebells. Each bulb was a comfort to me, a love sent to Grandpa, a promise of spring.