Taste of Home Essay 600 Words Taste

The shabby but clean bus was bumping along when the starry streetlights finally came on. There were a few coherent duck calls from the fields on either side of the highway.

I got off the bus by the fields, intending to walk down the old street back to the old house. The sky was dark, but not as dark as ink, like a gray and black veil over the canopy. From afar, I could see thousands of houses waving joss sticks, like a string of ancient torches. The fragrance of prune wine drifted in the air, and the distant flute of the shepherd was occasionally heard in the slight intoxication.

So I followed the fragrance of the wine started, July plum wine is like a young girl in spring, holding her flaming red skirt, red-faced and light Qian ran to you, in your lips and teeth, you will be like a drunken fairy general. The fragrance of the wine then dissipated with the mountain wind, the face, is a piece of bamboo breath.

It's a good idea to have a fire in the cauldron to steam up the bamboo leaf cake. The aroma of the bamboo leaf cake is like a young man in a rough dress, fresh and clean with you, but it is too late to taste the aftertaste, he disappeared without a trace. A far away rose a bamboo leaf aroma of cooking smoke, slowly rising up to the clouds, tomorrow will be a rolled with the bamboo leaf aroma of rain.

Where to turn over the sun-dried rice, let me smell the mellow fragrance, like a charm of the woman, bathed in a whole day of passionate sunshine. She knotted to give you a hug, to tell you about the harvest scene. Her aroma is all over the field, and the river has her lingering odor. The carp drank their fill of the valley-scented river water and spat out a string of valley-scented bubbles, blending them into the wind across the water surface.

Some of the townspeople greeted me and gave me a few first-picked plums, and they had pure smiles on their faces and the scent of grass and trees on their bodies. The old house must have steamed up the sugar cake, I followed the fragrance to go, the rolling mountains in the last xi light to me bowed down on the yoke, tomorrow it is going to visit the ripe rice again. There was a mixture of scents in the fields, mixed in the same wind. That is a special fragrance, caressing through the landscape and grass, with the curling smoke of ten thousand families.

? That is what I smelled when I pushed open the vermilion door of the old house, the smell of home.

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