Traditional Culture Encyclopedia - Traditional culture - Explanatory essay on the third day of the third month of the Zhuang
Explanatory essay on the third day of the third month of the Zhuang
The third day of the third month of the lunar calendar is a traditional festival of the Zhuang people. The Zhuang people are especially famous for the five-color glutinous rice they make. I hope you will like the illustration essay on the third day of the third month of the Zhuang nationality that I have organized for you.
March 3, the Zhuang people's festival, Wuming should be the most lively. Thousands of people bamboo dance, thousands of people martial arts, thousands of people square dance. The bullfighting. Outside the window, the sky is still hazy, the sky wrapped in this layer of thin silk coat, the sky outside the recalled a sound of crisp to the amount of chicken song, breaking the quiet Wuming, meet the beginning of March 3, Meng Meng's slumber has not yet awakened, will ring to meet the passion of March 3,.
Ten o'clock or so, the sky touched a trace of colorful clouds, we with a happy mood, leisurely to the main venue, into the eyes of the bustling streets, bustling stalls and vendors, a glance, a sea of people, everyone is wearing their own exclusive clothes, colorful, colorful, forming a colorful world, as if the rainbow of colors. Men and women, old and young, all kinds of people, crowded the whole street. A gust of wind blew, different aromas came to the nose, gently close your eyes, the mind floats a picture of food, there are grilled lamb kebabs, grilled squid, grilled chicken, stinky tofu. All kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of all kinds of things.
Step this brisk pace, with a happy mood, into the world of food, smell the different flavors, as if into the world of food. The day slowly darkened, touching a layer of thick dark clouds wind as if a naughty little elf, clattering blowing, with the passage of time time by the minute, the concert has just begun, the sky will be fluttering with a hazy rain, a wisp, a slice, a silk, a strip, a burst. Covered the whole world, our enthusiasm was not wiped out, we did not care much, but. God is so merciless, the rain is getting bigger and bigger, one drop and another drop like bean point, have scattered into the earth, merciless rain, merciless time, merciless world forced us into the tent, helplessness accompanied by, hey ~ I gently sighed and sighed, I look at the rain with disappointment, I do not know what feelings in my heart.
Time waits for no one, the rain fell for a long time at once, everything is gone, a thousand people bamboo dance, a thousand people martial arts, a thousand people square dance are gone, hey ~ helpless, we went home with regret. The wind blew regretfully, and everything seemed a little sad.
The Zhuang March 3rd Explanatory Essay II
The annual March 3rd is here. March 3 is a traditional grand festival of our Zhuang people. On this day, every family has to kill chickens and slaughter sheep, steam glutinous rice and boil colored eggs.
On the morning of March 3, the day just dawned, my mother has steamed the colorful glutinous rice into a large round pot, steaming like a flower plate of colorful flowers. I ate a few mouthfuls of glutinous rice, came to my mother's side, to help her choose the egg boiled egg. Mom said:? When you boil the eggs, the fire should not be too high so that the eggs don't crack in the pot. When the water boils, you turn the eggs up and down with chopsticks on the side, so that they will be subjected to even heat, and the eggs will be safe and sound in the pan. Mom finished speaking and went off to do something else. I cooked the eggs as my mother said, and painted these eggs with colorful colors, yard in the bamboo basket like a basket of colorful shells.
As you know, the Egg Contest is the biggest fun for kids on March 3rd. My sister and I picked up a few big, pointy colored eggs and ran towards the entrance of the village, looking for our partners to start the egg war.
My sister and I took four eggs, four duck eggs, and the partners touched, the results of the three winners and five losers, we touched the broken eggs, one by one peeled off the skin and eaten. The little friends are also peeling eggs, the guys look at me, I look at you, and then with a hand painted with various colors to wipe the eggs stained in the mouth, laughing.
When we returned home, we saw that mom was putting bowls and plates of steaming fish, meat and vegetables on the table. At this time, the father smilingly carried a few bottles of good wine, with the invitation of relatives and friends to drink. The table people happy to eat, drink, laughter echoed in the house.
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