Alley essay

Alleys are ordinary, but there is no moment when they are not lively. On the steps beside the alley, there are often several grandfathers who are over 60 years old, sitting and playing chess. In the Chu and Han dynasties, they vaulted like flying elephants, and sometimes with a bang, wooden pieces fell on the chessboard, making other pieces tremble up and down. Under the green trees in summer, there are many grandmothers and aunts in the alley, sitting on their rattan chairs, flying needles and gossiping about their parents. But the needle and thread in my hand never stopped. Some people hold their children in their arms, and the children don't cry or make trouble, quietly listening to this endless gossip. But for them, this is life.

I also like to throw myself into it, sit quietly on the cool stone steps with my back against the stone wall, listen to endless chatter, close my eyes and gradually get inspiration. Pick up the pen beside you and write down this wonderful time on paper. Time is fleeting, but the recorded beauty will not escape. Open your eyes, take a deep breath slowly, look at the blue sky, suddenly feel relaxed and happy, and find that everything is so beautiful. The air is fresh, and a ray of sunshine projected into the alley is so clear.

At dusk, when night falls, people return home one after another. The alley becomes quiet and everything becomes a silhouette. The smooth bluestone road paved a period of history. Mottled wall, moss crawling all over every corner. Green vines are covered with carved windows, and occasionally old people lie on rattan rocking chairs, their faces covered with peace and enjoying the unique silence of the sunset.

I made an appointment in an alley, in this shallow melancholy, in this youthful growth years. This quiet alley belongs to my space, and my space belongs to this wonderful alley.

Alley Essay 2 Since a large supermarket opened in the southwest corner of the residence, the crossing of this alley began. Spring and autumn are hot and cold, rainy and sunny. I didn't know I had been in this alley for ten years until I went out of the alley a few days ago and saw banners hanging on the left and right sides of the supermarket gate.

Great changes have taken place in this alley in the past ten years. Come to think of it, at first, there were some houses on both sides. Once upon a time, it was called the suburb of a small town because it was on the west side of the small bridge now called Immigrant Hutong. Therefore, the first sprinkler owned by the town always turns at the present Shi Lei Street, separating the gate of the county hospital originally belonging to the urban area from the gate of the middle school where I work.

Over time, passers-by walked up and down in front of the door, interpreting the scenery that flowers are similar year after year and people are different year after year. Gradually, the houses on both sides of the alley began to be rebuilt. First, open the back door of the upside-down house, clean and decorate it, put an old counter and put some small commodities on it. Although they know that there are all kinds of goods in the supermarket outside the alley, passers-by may still pick up an omission and take a small thing. There are also some small rolling workshops to provide living services for passers-by and nearby residents.

One day, people living in the street demolished their old houses and developed them on their own homestead. Although the traffic is inconvenient and the construction is difficult, several small buildings have been erected. Because it is their own site, several families are close together, and there is no access for lighting and fire fighting.

There are four seasons in the alley. In shops and alleys, one or several pots of fine varieties and cheap flowers and plants will be planted on some courtyard walls and next to shops. A few leaves are green with a little pink, which is the mood of shopkeepers and shopkeepers, and also brings a little pleasure to passers-by. Probably because of this, men, women and children in the past were very calm.

For ten years, I feel that there has never been a quarrel in the alley. Even if we meet in the narrow passage of infrastructure, we are polite. Although there are also reckless cyclists, many passers-by tend to avoid them sideways and say nothing. We can't see any disdain and disdain.

With the arrival of Zhangda and the prosperity of the market, there are more passers-by in the alley, sometimes it seems a little crowded. Even if it rains in autumn, it is rare to find the quiet artistic conception of the rainy lane in the south of the Yangtze River. I have never seen an elegant figure floating by under a red umbrella.

In the past ten years, I have traveled back and forth to the alley many times, and every time I pass by, I have a responsibility and yearning. Sometimes when I walk into the supermarket, I was for my elders, myself and my children and grandchildren in the early years, but in my later years, I feel a little sad and lonely when I miss the former item. Sometimes I will go to the hotel to entertain relatives and friends and repay my past feelings; Sometimes stopping somewhere is an occasional mood outside of doing things.

Come and go, often come and go. There is no doubt that alleys have become an indispensable part of my life. Approaching the avenue, watching the traffic; Through the alley, looking for traces of time. The couplets in "You Chuang Xiao Ji" are not insulting, and bloom falls before the court; I have no intention of staying or staying. It is not easy to achieve the cultivation of seeing clouds rolling in the sky, but as my own pursuit, there should be no mistake, right?

Today's cold, the last solar term of the Sino-Japanese War, is as warm as spring. TV said that 20xx was the hottest year in recent years, and there must be a reason. Whether it's cold or warm, walk through the alley, walk all the way, greet people you know and start a new day. As long as it exists, I will continue to walk through the alley, looking for my home and hope!

Alley Essay 3 Heart is connected with hometown, and hometown is connected with a narrow alley.

This alley is deep, curved and long, and you can't see the end at a glance. On the north and south sides are opposite courtyards, earth walls, gray tiles, logs and dirt roads. They are immersed in time and have strange expressions.

Living in the arms of the alley, I feel spiritual comfort and freedom. Whether it is the doorway of the soil foundation or the brick gatehouse, it is open. Children always walk through narrow walls, tunnels and shade trees at will, avoiding cats and eating hundreds of meals. No matter the owner or Lucy, their faces are cheerful and the alley is cheerful.

Adobe walls have a kind temperament, and sometimes pears, dates, walnuts and other fruits stretch out in the walls, swaying and exulting enthusiastically. It doesn't matter if people who walk outside the wall jump up and pick one, or hit a fruit with a stone to taste it. It's not annoying or urgent for the host family to see it.

Alleys are mean, rural. Once it rains and snows, mud everywhere, soup and water cross-flow. Running chickens, jumping dogs, splashing mud flowers, cloth shoes dragged off by mud, the scenery is messy, but people don't realize that children still go to school across their fathers' shoulders, and adults go out to work with hats. Mud and poverty have not flooded people's hearts, and people's faces are full of confidence and hope for life.

The commercial element of the alley is to make holes and cut doors in the house facing the street, and put oil, salt, sauce and vinegar, needles, thread heads, small picture books and pear milk candy on it. They don't make much money, but they reasonably supplement the seven things that people open the door. People come frequently and like to be busy, so they drink tea and chat on the low stool, walk with pebbles and watch children take pictures on the ground. The figure moves in the sparkling sunshine, stretching for a while and thickening for a while.

There is an old two-story building in the middle of the alley, which is the source of culture. The floor is plank, boys and girls are fidgeting, and their feet are flickering and creaking. The teacher pinched a bamboo pole on the platform and knocked the chalk loudly. The children dragged their long tails to study, and their voices were stunned by bird watching.

Alley doors are strewn at random, and there are different life stories under the eaves. The pot is thin and thick, but sometimes it presents a shocking resultant force. In the alley, ox carts sometimes run, or four people carry stretchers and gallop like a gust of wind. This is because the villagers are in a hurry, and here, it affects the hearts of neighbors. They contribute their wisdom and send people to distant hospitals for treatment.

Animals and plants are happy to get together here. Parthenocissus likes the taste of life here. They climbed high walls to spy on family affairs. Cicada is also willing to stand on the tall acacia tree and sing for it; The sparrow fell to the ground, close to people, pecked at the fallen rice grains and noodles, and leaned down with its small head, which made people on the stone pier smile.

Simplicity, freedom, harmony and equality. The alley is like a stamp, covering my heart. After many years, it is still as beautiful as ever.

Alley Essay 4 Old streets and alleys are not very spacious or long. You can see the streets and lanes at a glance, and the houses built by residents are on both sides of the alleys, just like the roads that earthworms have just climbed. Say it's straight, but you can't see another exit in the alley. Said it was curved. If you find the right place, you may see someone greeting you at the end of the alley. It is such a street that residents can't wait to swallow it. Actually, it's blocked again.

People who have nothing to do flocked to the scene of the accident to watch the excitement, and some still stood or sat on the side of the road to chat. However, busy people can only choose another way to go home. Those who really can't go home can only complain a few words and find a place to entertain themselves and spend this congested day.

Just now, those people who love to watch the excitement flocked to the congested places, and instantly blocked the streets and alleys that were not spacious, and even a drop of water could not be leaked. Finally, under the mediation of good people, the two people who blocked the road struggled to surpass each other's tricycle, and the path was smooth again.

Maybe it's the traffic jam for too long, and people in the streets and alleys have been walking side by side in their respective directions for a long time. If you don't look carefully, you won't find that the people sitting on both sides of the curb just now didn't mean to leave, but actually chatted together, whether they knew or not. What is even more annoying is that there are people sitting on both sides of the road stone, laughing and joking with each other. Looking at their happy scene, I seem to forget my anger when I blocked the road just now, but I thought it was my own yard, which made the alley, which was not spacious, even narrower.

Although the ancient streets and lanes are not as brilliant as in the past, they still have their own unique style today, which makes people forget to talk about them after dinner. But people always talk about the spacious and beautiful alleys in the past and the narrow and dilapidated alleys today, but they don't say that they didn't take up more space in the alleys to keep their original appearance, and they didn't stand or sit on the roadside to talk about ancient and modern things for the convenience of everyone's travel.

Streets and alleys are still experiencing the test of wind and rain, welcoming the Qingming in spring, summer, autumn and winter, witnessing the birth and death of people in the streets and lanes, and witnessing the rise and fall of future generations. It records the history of streets and lanes and the joys and sorrows of people living here in its unique way. It's like a safe haven for people, standing here forever without regrets, waiting for people to go home.

In my memory, the alley is full of ordinary happiness, leaving a fiery memory for my childhood. The alley of my hometown is very narrow, with various buildings and bungalows scattered on both sides, and a winding path is squeezed out in the middle, extending my memory. The alley in my hometown is very long, paved with gravel or slate all the way, where I left my childhood laughter and my first love as a teenager; I was disappointed when I left it. ...

Alleys are always quiet, giving people a light and comfortable feeling. In the alley, you can clearly hear your own footsteps, and in summer, there will be occasional ticking of rain dripping on the eaves yesterday. Walking in a drizzly alley, I can't help but find dusty memories, and my mood drifts back to the distant past ... The alley came from the depths of the years, and the years solidified on every brick and tile in the alley. Look at those mossy old walls, which are full of my childhood laughter. Time flies in the alley, and it can't stop it from walking like the wind. Pages of pictures flashed in front of my eyes, making me reproduce that kind of beauty in my memory every time I finished reading it.

The alley in memory is the oldest quiet prose, which always reminds the townspeople of the slim girls in ancient times. Remote alleys always hide in quiet boudoir, not ashamed to show up, but have a leisurely temperament. Alleys often have a lively and harmonious taste. Every moonlit night, alleys are places where people enjoy the cool. There are many small stools and rattan chairs in it. The old man and the young man sat together enjoying the moonlight and the cool breeze. There are many interesting stories in the alley. People in an alley form a big circle, talking about the vast expanse of the sky, which is irrelevant and enjoyable. Of course, the most lively place is the teahouse and restaurant on the street. The villagers sitting inside are drinking low-grade popular tea and slowly drinking low-grade wine, which is leisurely and interesting.

Both sides of the alley are crowded with residents, and the eaves are connected. Morning glory, wisteria and Parthenocissus are desperately climbing the wall, which gives the alley a layer of poetry. Walking in the alley, you don't need street signs and direction signs. The alley is deep and deep, like a vine, connected to a small town. You can always find an open door along the alley. The people in the alley are very friendly, and they will always guide you whenever outsiders come.

When the bright sunshine shines in from all the empty places, the alley has a three-dimensional sense and illuminates every detail of the alley. Turn over the pages of the alley, enter through the entrance of the alley, stop anywhere and knock on a door. Even those details that are not illuminated by the sun will appear in front of you. Alley, a thread-bound book, is worn in the eyes of every passerby. The townspeople walked thousands of times in the alleys before they reached the colorful metropolis. But no matter where the townspeople go, the alley will wrap around their hearts like hemp rope and pull their thoughts back.

Now the hometown is not what it used to be, and the alleys have been replaced by high-rise buildings, so it is difficult to find traces of the past. However, my attachment to it cannot be eliminated, not only because of my unforgettable past, but also because of its tranquility, warmth and human touch. Alleys are now labeled with the trademark of the times, engraved with a kind of boldness of vision, a kind of pursuit and an innovation. But her affection still lives in my dream.

Alley Essay 6 Alley, Hutong, Alley, with different opinions, all refer to small streets in essence. Straight for the street, curved for the lane; The big one is the street, and the small one is the lane.

Ling Ke said, Lane is an elegant and quiet essay in urban architectural art, a quaint and diluted picture, which seems to be not perfect. In Xinghua on the water side, a small town with a snare of alleys, looking through the alleys with a thousand-year charm, is half on the water, winding and elegant, and half on the shore, winding and quiet, solidifying a profound history and precipitating silent beauty, which seems to have another artistic conception. That is a book of ancient poems, an ink painting.

The small town, on the map, looks like the soles of the feet, and the leg lifts are wet. According to legend, people spend their time in Xinghua, and different versions of mysteries have puzzled them for decades. Seen from the air, it looks like a lotus leaf floating in the middle of Lixia River. Quiet alleys are naturally lotus veins. Alleys connect the gates of east, west, north and south, looming in the misty wind and rain. But four o'clock is different, and it will not be shocking in a thousand years. The stars have shifted, the mountains and rivers have changed, and the rumble of bulldozers has buried the city river passing through the city and annihilated the alleys like a net. South Gate and Xiaonanmen will never be seen again, and Yinbeimen and Beidajie are hard to find. The discovery of the so-called hot spring, the pouring of cement steel columns, harmed the willow trees on the black towel swing. Only the old Ximen Lane, the smoke from the ancient coal stove and the sparks from the blacksmith's shop still retain the former figure. The afterglow of dusk dispersed little by little in the maze-like alley, and chicken feathers were everywhere.

Dongmen is lucky. Blocks composed of ancient dwellings in Ming and Qing Dynasties are protected in the development, relying on the aura of Zheng Xie. The alley of Jindongmen is covered with moss, its walls are wet, simple, lonely and deep, as thin as a bamboo pole, simple and honest, more like an old scholar lying on a cane chair, but full of leisure, still reading vicissitudes.

Look for Jindongmen, where there are many small bridges, flowing water and historic sites, business is booming, popularity is flourishing, and there is a smell of dead bamboo and new leaves. The street outside the east gate is actually an alley 100 meters and six feet thin as a bamboo pole. Zheng Banqiao's former residence, sheltered from the wind and rain, is surrounded by a newly renovated "green garden", with forest of steles on the wall, green bamboos and fragrant flowers. Think of Zheng Xie in those days, through the rugged, narrow alleys, has been to the east deep bamboo tube. ...

Walking on bamboo, the streets paved with blue bricks and mossy joints seem to have the ancient sound of nailing shoes. Time and space blocked the noise and floating dust of the year, and the misty rain was compressed in a narrow alley. Approaching the Shangchizhai pharmacy, the style is still the same-the front store and the back store, and the signboard of "Jiangsu Cultural Relics Protection Unit" seems to tell people a century-old story.

Bamboo poles extend eastward, and merchants with old doors open and closed are scattered like bamboo leaves, either sitting north to south or sitting south to north. Shops all the way, safflower children's shoes room, the old lady is still playing with needles and needles; The lettering gentlemen wearing reading glasses are still doing their old jobs in an orderly way; The old censer candlestick and rake sickle are still rusty; The owner of the wreath shroud is still leisurely stroking the black and white at the other end of the libation creature, which seems to make people see that the two ends of life are so limited in length. The street is still so lively, soot curled up and people followed. The baked wheat cake stove is next to the jiaozi below, the person who fixes the lock and matches the key leans against the bamboo knitting needle, and the neighbor who fills the teeth then sells tea ... The descendants of businessmen who stick to their family business are poised and indifferent to everything in front of them, with a faint helplessness on their faces.

"Zhuangyuan Square" is towering and is considered as a bamboo joint. Turn around and fold into Jiashu Lane in the south, leisurely and deep. Zhao Lou in the east of Lane is quiet and elegant, but solemn and quiet. This foreign building was built in the late Qing Dynasty. The main building is a three-story building with 28 houses imitating Roman style. It is a garden building combining Chinese and western styles, and it is a consultation and application place for three generations of famous doctors, Zhao Shutang, Zhao Puchun and Zhao Lvao. According to legend, during the Guangxu period, a salt merchant in Yangzhou and a big wooden boss in Jiangdu specially hired Ningbo craftsmen to design and build them for Zhao. Medical books such as Continued Records of Syndrome Differentiation, Theory of Yin and Yang and Five Elements, Zhao's Secret Recipe and Shoushixuan's Medical Records still tell people that in those days, it was bustling and people came from all directions to seek medical advice, which set off the popularity of foreign buildings to the extreme, so Jiashu Lane was also called Yang Lou Lane.

The easternmost corner of Dajian food market is bamboo head. The chin is connected to the east gate of Shangguan River. When ships embrace each other, ships collide with each other, fishing boats are interspersed, and Shi Shui Wharf is scattered along the river, how can it be prosperous? Now, the bamboo festival is fading away, and the misty rain has already covered the shacks on the bank of the rice market. Time flies, indifference, can only pick up the ceramic rubble, in the boatman's old bamboo pole, slow but tenacious legend here used to be the Qingming Riverside Map.

Stay in Zhuxiang, with a small tile-headed wall with blue bricks. Heritage is light and quiet, it is connected to the city gate and the former Hull Bay. There is no bamboo growing in the narrow and winding bamboo lane. Manchu's reputation comes from weavers who weave bamboo wares for a living from generation to generation, and it is famous for its bamboo market. The Banqiao bamboo in my hometown has become a delicate broom, and the bamboos in the south of the Yangtze River are neatly arranged under the eaves. Bamboo baskets, bamboo baskets, bamboo chairs, bamboo needles ... are still dazzling. Craftsmen work at sunrise and rest at sunset, and they are still stubbornly weaving their own lives with bamboo.

The radius of bamboo lane has been gradually swallowed up by snobbery, and the remaining half is bamboo tip. Even so, the alley is still a quiet place with beautiful eyes, more like a woman with a small jasper, hiding in a quiet boudoir, smiling, singing alone by the bridge, unwilling to show her face easily, quiet and distant, quiet and calm.

Walking in the bamboo alley in the east gate, you will naturally think of the alley written by Dai Wangshu, the little woman holding an oil-paper umbrella in the drizzle, and the stone that you stepped on in a hurry. The artistic conception is so hazy. Alleys like bamboo, in the uniform years, row upon row, overflow plain and plain; For example, in the alley of bamboo leaves and in the shop of Tazimen, from time to time, some women in slippers come out, swaying in the street like women in Sanjiaxiang, smelling lazy. Such as bamboo lane, three or two sparrows descended from the ancient chimney, and some light gray bird droppings were two or three steps away from people.

No matter how long the alley is, it will always come to an end. Banqiao Street, Jindong Gate, with sparse bamboo and swaying trees. Stop in the garden, look back at Zhuxiang, and linger.