1148307江玉园第三次写作作业

Winding its way through the rice fields, bubbling joyfully while encountered with lines of stones, rippling and sparkling at the tender touch of the breeze, the river in my hometown when I was still a small child has impressed me and carried me away into a region of memories and dreams.
I have no idea where she originates from, but I can clearly remember her clear water, marvelous shadows of the surrounding flowers and shrubberies. When spring visits, the water is at its clearest with the shiny su***ce wrinkling and generating a few eddies here and there. A nearer examination of the water will present you a lively picture, the colorful cobblestones and the multicolored shells lying quietly as if kissing its warm bed, the dark green waterweeds sway their slim body gently at every motion of the water and the cheerful fishes swim through the water without rest feeling the impulse of life.
While summer comes, the willows lined at the banks of the river doubtlessly become the dominant role of the vicinity. Bending its numerous and long twigs into the river like the haircut of a crazy dancing girl, the willows are declaring their endless passions but at the same time half-hiding their shyness with the graceful shape of their bodies. Beautiful girls will pluck some of the delicate branches and make rings of them which can be seen around the heads of them.
Silently, autumn marches its way and brings another different scene to the river. The leaves on the camphor trees turn brown and drift down from the branches into the river. With a lack of company, the strings of small balls, that is the fruits of the tree, also fall off the tree and help decorate the river. Yet the river seems a bit distressed cause people are bustling in their fields, reaping the golden rice and appear to have forgotten the river. And the kids are also stuck at home as a watchdog, unable to find time to play with her. The lonely and sad look of the river evokes more of the pity and care of the people which she has nurtured generation after generation.
As chilly winter calls, the river is getting increasingly lonely. She totally lose her charm as there is merely left with bare earth. Only the naughty north wind whistles and roars past, and occasionally the glittering snowflakes will drop by and dance in the air, draping a layer of silver yarn upon the su***ce of the river and covering the surrounding earth with a heavy padded coat. When the river forms a deck of ice, the children will gather at her bank, playing and laughing around as a company for the lonesome river.
However, these happy memories about this river have had nowhere to trace. Great are the vicissitudes of this ever lovely river that she has lain in front of me wasted and abandoned since my family's settlement in the downtown 14 years ago. Gone are the days when I and my mates play ducks and drakes at her bank; gone are the days when I go fishing with my father and sometimes dive into the water to catch little fishes; gone are the days when I can enjoy her beauty and grow up happily under her cridle. I love this river in my hometown to the uttermost of my affection.