在我遥远的家乡兴凯湖边,春天的脚步是缓慢的。 4月里,山上的积雪微微地化了,一簇一簇的草顶着经了一冬、已经变硬了的雪,悄悄地攒着劲儿,空气中好像在不安静地酝酿着什么。冰凌花在河岸边的冰凌下努力地向上伸展,白色的小花蕾,那么柔弱,却最勇敢——它终于冒出了冰层,在稀薄的早春阳光下骄傲地开放了。人们踏着残雪上山来采达子香。墨绿色的厚叶子里藏着紫色的 In my distant hometown Xingkai Lake, the pace of spring is slow. In April, the snow in the mountains was slightly softened. Clusters of grass fell on top of a winter, hardened snow was quietly saved and the air seemed to be brewing quietly . The ice cream stretched effortlessly under the ice of the banks of the river, and the white buds were so weak and courageous - that it finally emerged as an ice layer that was proudly opened in thin, early spring sunshine. People are marching along the snow up mountains to harvest daisy. Dark green leaves hidden in purple