题干

作文:
       我们要学会从容地迎接生活给我们带来的一切,也许是明媚的春光,也许是不期的风雨;也许是灿烂的笑脸,也许是难堪的冷遇;也许是成功的欢乐,也许是失败的痛苦;也许是如意的坦途,也许是恼人的坎坷;也许是浓浓的幸福,也许是淡淡的忧伤。当着一切来到我们面前的时候,我们要学会张开双臂,用从容的姿态去迎接它。

       请以“迎接”为题,写一篇记叙文。

       要求:(1)字数不少于 500 字;(2)文中不得出现真实的地名,校名,人名;(3)卷面整洁,书写规范、工整。

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【参考例文】迎接 夏季,骄阳炙烤这大地,无情的挥洒着身上的光辉,大地干燥得连泥土都裂开了深深口子。就是这样的天气,向日葵却依然挺立在太阳之下,不知疲倦的望着它。 向日葵是一种美丽的植物。根生生的扎在泥土里,长着细小的白色绒毛,像千万给细小的银针插在根上,密密麻麻而又尽然有序。向日葵的叶片是心形的,叶子上的经脉清晰可见,如一张张线路图,又像一封来自夏日的信件。叶子苍翠的绿色不禁让人想到翡翠,但那“翡翠”有过这白绒绒的“面纱”,显得如此神秘,如此安详。摸着苍翠的叶子,就好像在做手部按摩似的,痒痒的,刺刺的。阳

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    My father was always a good gardener. One of my earliest memories is standing without shoes in the freshly tilled soil, my hands blackened from digging in the ground.

    As a child, I loved following Dad around in the garden. I remember Dad pushing the tiller(耕作机) ahead in perfectly straight lines. Dad loved growing all sorts of things: yellow and green onions, watermelons almost as big as me, rows of yellow corn, and our favorite — red tomatoes.

    As I grew into a teenager, I didn't get so excited about gardening with Dad. Instead of magical land of possibility, it had turned into some kind of prison. As Dad grew older, his love for gardening never disappeared. After all the kids were grown and had started families of their own, Dad turned to gardening like never before. Even when he was diagnosed with cancer, he still took care of his garden.

    But then, the cancer, bit by bit, invaded his body. I had to do the things he used to do. What really convinced me that Dad was dying was the state of his garden that year. The rows and rows of multicolored vegetables were gone. Too tired to weed them, he simply let them be. He only planted tomatoes.

    For the first few years after he died, I couldn't even bear to look at anyone's garden without having strong memories pour over me like cold water from a bucket. Three years ago, I decided to plant my own garden and started out with just a few tomatoes. That morning, after breaking up a fair amount of soil, something caught the corner of my eye and I had to smile. It was my eight-year-old son Nathan, happily playing in the freshly tilled soil.