英语春天的作文

时间：2026-03-27 02:35:05 英语作文我要投稿

[热]英语春天的作文4篇

　　在现实生活或工作学习中，大家总免不了要接触或使用作文吧，写作文可以锻炼我们的独处习惯，让自己的心静下来，思考自己未来的方向。还是对作文一筹莫展吗？以下是小编为大家整理的英语春天的作文4篇，欢迎大家分享。

[热]英语春天的作文4篇

英语春天的作文篇1

　　Of the four seasons,I love Spring best.In Spring,the weather gets warmer and everything begins to grow rapidly.If we go to the countryside on a sunny day in Spring,w’ll find tree turning green and flowers blooming.Besides my personal interests,I think the most in important reason Why I like Spring is that Spring signifies hope and progress.I love Spring.

　　所有的四个季节中，我最喜欢春天。在春天，天气变暖，万物复苏。如果我们在春天阳光明媚的日子里去乡村，我们将发现树叶变绿了鲜花盛开了。除了我的`个人兴趣，我认为我喜欢春天的原因在于春天象征着希望和进步。我爱春天。

英语春天的作文篇2

　　Winter was gone,spring comes.I love spring best,because it's very beautiful.In spring,the weather is aways sunny and rainy,it's not cold and not hot,it's warmer and warmer.The flowers begin to open and the trees begin to turn green.The birds are singing in the sky,they are happy.The animals will go out to play.Many people like to go out and enjoy the sunshine.I like wearing my sweater and jeans, I like to fly kites,plant trees and see the beautiful flowers. Spring is colorful,I think it's a wonderful season. What's your favourite season?Please tell me.

　　冬天过去了，春天来了。我最喜爱春天，因为它很漂亮。春天的天气总是晴朗多雨，不冷也不热，而且很暖和。花儿开始绽放了，树木也开始变绿。天上的'鸟儿在歌唱，它们很快乐。动物会出去玩。许许多多的人喜欢出去享受阳光。我喜欢穿上我的毛衣和牛仔裤，我喜欢放风筝、种树、观赏美丽的花朵。春天是五彩缤纷的，我认为这是一个美妙的季节。你最喜欢的季节是什么?请告诉我吧。

英语春天的作文篇3

　　春天的小雨沙沙沙，落在了草坪里，小草垂着头，向大地母亲深深地致谢；春天的小雨沙沙沙，落在了小花的身上，滋润着小花，用自己的魔力把小花变得更有魅力了；春雨的小雨沙沙沙，落在了小麦的头上，让小麦变得更加快乐了——

　　Spring's drizzle and sand fall on the lawn, the grass hangs its head and deeply thanks to the earth mother; spring's drizzle and sand fall on the body of the little flower, moistening the little flower, making the little flower more charming with its own magic; spring's drizzle and sand fall on the head of the wheat, making the wheat more happy——

　　春天的小雨落到了我的手中，品尝一下，总带着一股说不出来的甜味涌上

　　The spring drizzle falls into my hands, taste it, and it always comes up with an ineffable sweetness

　　心头，顿时，感觉身体凉爽极了！春天的小雨焕发着彩虹般的光泽。春天的小雨，化为一滴水滴来到了充满快乐和喜悦的人间，它是春姑娘派来的使者告诉我们：“春天来了！春天来了！”。

　　Heart, suddenly, I feel cool! The light rain in spring is shining like a rainbow. Spring drizzle, into a drop of water came to the world full of joy and joy, it is the messenger sent by the spring girl told us: "spring is coming! Spring is coming! ".

　　春天的小雨你是那么的无私，那么的平凡，但是，你只有在春天来临时才能让我们看到你，为什么？为什么不能让我们一年四季享受你的'美丽呢？春雨！我欢迎你的来临，我愿和你一起玩耍／追逐嬉戏。

　　Spring rain you are so selfless, so ordinary, but you can only let us see you when spring comes, why? Why can't we enjoy your beauty all the year round? Soft spring rain! I welcome you. I'd like to play / chase with you.

　　噢！春雨！我多想化为你，去滋润伟大祖国的大地，把祖国变成一个绿色的大花园。

　　Oh! Soft spring rain! How I want to turn into you, to moisten the land of the great motherland, to turn the motherland into a green garden.

英语春天的作文篇4

　　A Promise of Spring

　　Early in the spring, about a month before my grandpa's stroke, I began walking for an hour every afternoon. Some days I would walk four blocks south to see Grandma and Grandpa. At eighty-six, Grandpa was still quite a gardener, so I always watched for his earliest blooms and each new wave of spring flowers.

　　I was especially interested in flowers that year because I was planning to landscape my own yard and I was eager to get Grandpa's advice. I thought I knew pretty much what I wanted — a yard full of bushes and plants that would bloom from May till November.

　　It was right after the first rush of purple violets in the lawns and the sudden blaze of forsythia that spring that Grandpa had a stroke. It left him without speech and with no movement on his left side. The whole family rallied to Grandpa. We all spent many hours by his side. Some days his eyes were eloquent — laughing at our reported mishaps, listening alertly, revealing painful awareness of his inability to care for himself. There were days, too, when he slept most of the time, overcome with the weight of his approaching death.

　　As the months passed, I watched the growing earth with Grandpa's eyes. Each time I was with him, I gave him a garden report. He listened, gripping my hand with the sure strength and calm he had always had. But he could not answer my questions. The new flowers would blaze, peak, fade, and die before I knew their names.

　　Grandpa's illness held him through the spring and on, week by week, through summer. I began spending hours at the local nursery, studying and choosing seeds and plants. It gave me special joy to buy plants I had seen in Grandpa's garden and give them humble starts in my own garden. I discovered Sweet William, which I had admired for years in Grandpa's garden without knowing its name. And I planted it in his honor.

　　As I waited and watched in the garden and by Grandpa's side, some quiet truths emerged. I realized that Grandpa loved flowers that were always bloom; he kept a full bed of roses in his garden. But I noticed that Grandpa left plenty of room for the brief highlights. Not every nook of his garden was constantly in bloom. There was always a treasured surprise tucked somewhere.

　　I came to see, too, that Grandpa's garden mirrored his life. He was a hard worker who understood the law of the harvest. But along with his hard work, Grandpa knew how to enjoy each season, each change. We often teased him about his life history. He had written two paragraphs summarizing fifty 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.

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