Write an article about autumn: autumn in my hometown.

Lead: Autumn in my hometown is a beautiful season, a harvest season, and a season full of the fragrance of baked sweet potatoes and boiled corn. The following is an article about autumn: Autumn in my hometown, welcome to read.

The first article: an article about autumn: I accidentally opened the calendar in autumn in my hometown, and the solar terms have already shown that it is the autumnal equinox. It turns out that autumn has passed half before you know it. It suddenly occurred to me that this is the second autumn since I came to the south, but I don't know when it will come and when it will slip away quietly. This has never happened to me, a native of the North. Looking at the flowers and plants outside the window, they grow wildly under the nourishment of rain, as if it were the season when grass grows and warblers fly in March. I can't help thinking of autumn in my hometown, which is different from here? Autumn in the north!

The hometown in memory, the four seasons are always distinct. There is a proverb in my hometown? It's autumn in the morning and cold at night? Yes, in my hometown, when I travel to early autumn in this season, I feel a little cold in the morning and at night. ? A leaf falls, do you know that the world is autumn? When the leaves slowly change from green to gold, and then fall in the wind, you will know that in autumn, she is coming.

In autumn in my hometown, the clouds are light, fresh and bright, noble and elegant, and the sky is particularly broad at this time. Just find a meadow to lie down, watch the clouds rolling in the sky, and watch the migratory birds flying south pass by in droves. Crane in the clear sky? Looking around, you can reach the end of heaven and earth. Looking at the vastness of the world, your body and mind naturally become open-minded, and slowly, you will integrate yourself into this world. You will find that all your troubles and sorrows are just insignificant marks in your life, and this world has a paradise for you. This is the autumn in my hometown, which can nourish the tired body, heal the injured soul and purify the noisy soul.

Autumn in my hometown is rainy season. ? An autumn rain and a cold? It rained a few times, and the coolness in the air made you tighten your clothes and pull the quilt at night. Although the north is dry, the autumn rain is lingering, not stingy at all, even extravagant. Autumn rain came like a shy girl, and I couldn't see her face clearly for a long time. At first, the sky began to darken, and slowly, smoke filled it. Finally, she came? Veil? Stumbling under the cover of. Bit by bit, along the branches, through the eaves, fell to the ground. When she came, she was like a very gentle lover. Sometimes she pulled out a misty rain, and sometimes she fell slowly, but she was reluctant to leave. After a long time, the old farmer will inevitably sigh and complain that she has delayed the time for everyone to do farm work. But it is this autumn rain that makes the autumn in my hometown filled with the smell of earth, adding a natural and fresh feeling.

In autumn in my hometown, the most unforgettable thing is that the leaves dance with the wind. The cicadas are fading away, and the leaves are falling. It's nearly late autumn. In the warm afternoon, make a cup of green tea and lie in those thick nature? A mattress? In fact, the sun shines on the body through the leaves that have not yet fallen, and the light and shadow are mottled, warm and comfortable. Autumn wind blows, leaves spin in the wind, open your arms, embrace this unique beauty and enjoy their tranquility. Suddenly I remembered a sentence:? Leaves are flightless wings? . Yes, leaves are not wings after all, and will turn to dust after a short flight, but they dance like golden butterflies in the wind, drawing the most beautiful traces. I quit my job and go home, just like a flower falling from a branch, but this is not a heartless thing. It can be turned into the soil of spring and can also play a role in nurturing the next generation. They are generous and selfless, gestating a more splendid life with their remaining lives.

Autumn in my hometown is far away, broad-minded, fresh, clean and quiet. No matter what I meet in the noisy world, I can find a pure land there.

Article 2: About writing autumn: Autumn in my hometown is a beautiful season, a harvest season, and a season full of the fragrance of baked sweet potatoes and boiled corn.

In my memory, the beginning of autumn did not come from dead leaves, nor from the change of solar terms, but from my father pushing his bike home. There is a slender bulging canvas pocket across the back seat of the bicycle. Canvas pockets are full of bright red persimmons. Whenever I see my father pushing a bulging bag into the house, my mind will come up with mouth-watering soft and sweet egg persimmons and sweet and crisp warm persimmons.

Every early autumn, my father will go out and bring back a bag of persimmons. Give some to other families and choose soft ones for us to eat; Pick some non-traumatic, let mother warm us up, take off the astringency and give us food; If I take it again, my mother will wash it and put it in a porcelain jar to make vinegar, which will be enough for our family to eat for half a year.

Whenever my father brought persimmons home that night, my mother would put them in a warm water pot for a stuffy night. When I go to school the next day, my brother and sister and I will each take a few, bite one in our mouth and eat it slowly in our schoolbags. As long as you think of warm persimmons, that sweet feeling will linger between your teeth and cheeks, tempting people's gluttony.

Whenever you eat persimmons, it is the season when the production team digs sweet potatoes. At that time, the production team will divide the sweet potato fields into families according to the population, dig and transport them one by one, and hand them over to the production team for unified collection. When the production team's sweet potato cellar is full, the remaining sweet potatoes will be distributed to each household according to the population. Whenever the sweet potato is dug, the school will have a holiday, so the sweet potato field is full of old people and children, which is very lively and full of happy atmosphere. My father used a dung rake to dig in front, and my mother and brother and I arranged it in the back. First, pick the sweet potato from the sweet potato vine, then clean the soil on it, break off the extra roots, pile the sweet potato into a small pile, then put it in a bamboo cage and transport it back to the production team at night.

Sorting sweet potatoes is very happy, especially seeing many strange sweet potatoes. Some are big enough to compete with basketball, so we call it the sweet potato king; Some are like birds, some are like turtles, and some are like cow heads. ; I looked at the sweet potato in my hand and imagined it. My heart is full of endless happiness, so I often forget to arrange sweet potatoes, and I am scolded by my father, but I still enjoy it. When sorting out sweet potatoes, I can judge whether sweet potatoes are watery, sweet or not, and whether they are noodles by their skins. There is a sweet potato whose skin is very strange. When it is broken, the pulp is pink. We call it Beijing pear. It's sweet and crisp when eaten raw without skin. Once I find this sweet potato, I will compete with my brother for food. Once, when I peeled the sweet potato skin with a pencil knife because of excitement, I actually peeled off the skin at the fingertips of my left index finger, and blood gushed out, which was very painful. I quickly picked up the clod, crushed it and sprinkled it on the wound. Although the blood reopened the fragments again and again, I scattered the fragments on the wound again and again until the blood was covered with fragments. When the blood stops flowing, I will continue to peel sweet potatoes and eat them sweetly. Often at this time, my mother will tell us not to eat persimmons when eating sweet potatoes, or the sweet potatoes will turn into stones in the stomach. Scared us from eating sweet potatoes and persimmons at the same time.

The sweet potato was shipped home, and suddenly, the whole village was filled with the fragrance of sweet potato. Steamed sweet potatoes are soft and sweet; The sweet potato cooked and roasted in the oven bore is tender inside and tender outside, and it is a strange fragrance together with glutinous rice. Fish and fish are made of sweet potato mixed powder, mixed with chopped green onion and minced meat, and then mixed with a little spicy oil, which is even more delicious; I prefer sweet potato noodles, especially cold ones. Rinse them with boiling water and mix them with spicy oil and chopped green onion. They are especially delicious.

The sweet potato has been harvested and the corn is ripe. After my parents harvested the collective corn, they took our brothers to our reservation to harvest the corn at the weekend. We got into the corn row, broke off the big corn cob and threw it into the dung cage we carried with us. When the manure cage is full, take it out and pour it into a shelf car with wicker baskets at both ends of the field. At this time, whenever I meet an uncle or grandfather passing by, my father will greet them, exchange cigarettes or cigarettes, light a squat and chat, and throw the work to us until the cart is full.

When the corn was transported home, it fell into a narrow yard only one and a half meters wide and piled on the balcony under grandma's bedroom window until it reached half of the yard. We shipped all the corn in the field. As soon as we came home from school in the afternoon, my father arranged to help my parents peel corn. Our family just sat around the corn pile, chatting, peeling off the skin of the stick layer by layer, pulling it to the root of the stick, but not peeling it, and then throwing it in front of dad. My father peeled corn for us, straightened and pinched the corn husks, and then knitted them in pairs. Sometimes, uncles and aunts who come to visit our home will also join in the work of peeling corn, and my corn pile will be more lively. Because of the large amount of corn, we peel it late into the night every day until our brother and sister sit next to the corn pile and doze off. When we were sleeping, mom and dad were still awake. Before going to bed, they will systematically put the corn on the erected rafters or trunks. When you go to the toilet the next morning, you will find two golden corn pillars with a diameter of nearly one meter and a diameter of more than three meters standing in the backyard. Even the branches are covered with corn cobs in twos and threes, which is very spectacular. The next day, when you walk into the village, you will find that the whole village has become a golden harvest. Some people wrap corn directly on the trunk of the door, and some people hang corn on the cross rafters set up under the eaves of the concierge. The corn stalks of people who don't have doormen will stick out their heads from the low earth walls and look at them with others. From then on, the corn will be slowly dried in the open air. In winter, when they are free, the family will sit around a big pu basket with a diameter of more than two meters in the room and slowly peel corn kernels. This is a busy night.

The villagers are not idle while planting corn. They have been cleaning up the fields and sowing wheat under the arrangement of the production team leader. When the corn harvest is finished, the wheat seedlings in the field also stick out their green heads, and most of the land in my hometown is covered with green wheat seedlings. Because the land is fertile or barren, the wheat seedlings are black and green, which gives the poor people in Weibei dry garden a better life and hope.

When the wheat seedlings are high, there will be fewer ways for the production team, so people will turn their main energy to storing grain for the coming year. At that time, our staple food was not wheat, even corn was a luxury, but dried sweet potatoes. Every day after work, after dinner, my mother began to wipe the sweet potato with special tools and knead it into two millimeters of thin dried sweet potato. After school, after dinner, I will also join the ranks of wiping sweet potato chips until the onset of drowsiness is unbearable. At dawn the next day, my younger brother and I would get up in my father's yelling, help my parents load a bamboo cage and a bamboo cage of sweet potato slices into the cart, transport them to the wheat field in the west of the village, and spread the sweet potato slices evenly on the wheat seedlings to dry. By the time the sun rises, the wheat field is already white. At this time, my brother and I were completely awake with red hands. Whenever we take the trolley home and run to school, it is already late, so we have to stand outside the classroom and read the text.

After several days of drying, the sweet potato chips dried a few days ago have been completely dried. After coming home from school at night, the first thing we have to do is to help my mother put away the dried sweet potatoes and transport them home for storage. Grandma and mom also ground some dried sweet potatoes on the village mill, and then ground them into powder on the stone mill. Since then, there have been sweet potato jiaozi, sweet potato noodles, fish, sweet potato noodles and other foods on the dining table at home.

At the same time, parents choose sweet potatoes with scars or high water content, which are difficult to preserve, and wipe the sweet potato foam in Xitou Temple in the village.

Xitou Temple is a temple, but there are no idols, let alone monks. Just three caves, and then frontispiece built three tile houses next to the caves. Zhang Baoyang, a five-guarantee household, works as a doorman inside. The machine for wiping sweet potatoes is installed in the innermost cave. Everyone in the village has a lot of sweet potatoes, and many people come to wipe them. The queue is very long, extending to the front of the temple. My task is to wait in line.

Xitou Temple is my paradise. In addition to wiping sweet potato foam, it is also a workshop for craftsmen temporarily invited by other production teams. There are cowhide ropes made of cooked cowhide, horses and donkeys (which are good for work), cotton beating machines, tofu, and so on. As long as I have leisure time, I will go to Xitou Temple and study the craftsmanship and movements of craftsmen selflessly. Although I only satisfied my curiosity in the end, it brought me rare happiness and happiness. So, in the long wait, I recalled the strange things I had seen in the temple, but I didn't think it was long at all.

It's finally my turn to make sweet potato foam. The uncle in charge of the machine poured the sweet potato into the entrance of the machine, held the sweet potato with a wooden board with a handle, and heard the painful cry when the sweet potato was rubbed by the rubbing wheel. Soon, sweet potato foam with sweet smell slowly poured from the water outlet of the machine into the bucket placed below the water outlet. A few cages of sweet potatoes only beat three barrels of sweet potato foam.

After returning home, my father made a shelf for filtering starch in the yard. He put a rafter across the side wall and put it in the rafter under the eaves. Then hang a movable cross made of two two-meter-long steel wood with a rope. The four ends of the cross are tied with four corners wrapped in fine natural sand cloth. There is a huge coarse pottery water tank under the cloth bag (people there call the big water tank a sea urn). Beside the urn, my father has put a big basin of cold water and a load of well water. There is a gourd ladle in the basin, which has been split in half. He first poured the sweet potato foam into the basin and stirred it with a wooden stick. Then I scooped a few spoonfuls of sweet potato foam water and poured it into the cloth bag. Shake the wooden frame with both hands and let the sweet potato foam roll back and forth in the bag. As a result, milky juice flows from under the bag into the sea urn under the bag as the bag rolls. When the water under the bag became slightly thinner, my father scooped out the sweet potato residue in the bag and poured it into the bamboo cage on the side. Then he scooped out the diluted sweet potato foam from the basin and poured it into the bag to continue his work. When I was a child, I had to go to school and go to bed early. Stay away from home when you are older. I've never seen my dad filter the sweet potato foam thoroughly. When I was going to school the next day, I found that the water in the urn in the middle of the yard and the porcelain basin on the eaves had become extremely clear. Under the clear water, it was white sweet potato starch. And those gray sweet potato dregs have been made into cakes as big as sesame cakes by their mothers, and they are neatly stuck on the walls of the mansion, which is very spectacular. When I came home from school at noon, there were half a foot thick round white starch cakes on the urn cover, wooden stakes and low walls at home. That's vermicelli for bean jelly.

Whenever we make starch, my mother will make fried powder for us. Whenever I come home from school or have a fight outside, I smell a special smell of garlic and chopped green onion. When I know that my mother has made fried powder, I will immediately throw away my schoolbag, run into the kitchen, drool and watch her stir the iron with a shovel and fill half a pot of bean jelly. I can't wait to eat fried powder. Finally ripe. Our brothers scrambled to set the table and called our father and sisters to the table. As soon as I sat down and picked up the bowl, I couldn't wait to dig into my mouth. Who knows that fried noodles are hot outside and hot inside? I quickly stirred my tongue back and forth in my mouth until it was not hot.

The end of autumn is not only because of fallen leaves, but also because there are strings of red peppers hanging on both sides of every door. Hometown people use their spare time to string red and fresh peppers together and hang them on both sides of the door to dry slowly, which not only makes decoration, but also indicates another bumper harvest year in the coming year; It also prepared rich materials for making sesame oil spicy seeds in winter. It gave hope to the people in hometown and ignited the flame of happiness in the hearts of the people in hometown.

Autumn finally passed and winter came. When I saw the gray sky, I thought of snow, mouth-watering spicy oil baked corn flour steamed bread, and even thought of delicious fried bean jelly. It was a gift from autumn, and it was also a beautiful memory of my hometown buried deep in my heart.