Speaking of the famous mountains and rivers of the motherland, we are always very proud as Chinese people - the lofty five mountains, the poetic Lushan Mountain, the Jiuqu River sound of Wuyi Mountain, which one is not famous all over the world, in the poet's interest in the booming recitation of ancient poetry.
However, the mountain silhouettes left in my heart do not have their style. The real "mountain" impression is engraved in my memory, unique and real - it was a cold day, our family went back to the mountain grandma's home to visit relatives and friends. After the heavy snow, my father was so enthusiastic that he wanted to take me into the "nameless mountain" and explore a different world. For this seemingly absurd purpose, our father and daughter really put on a thick down jacket, in such a number nine
In the cold days, I walked into the snow Valley - the nameless mountains and rivers that have been forgotten by the world for a long time and are still silent under the cover of white snow.
Walking in the snow is a very difficult thing, but the most difficult thing is not to feel tired and anxious in the snow pit, but the unspeakable loneliness in the face of those silent mountains. Loneliness comes with the shadow of the gray or white mountain. When I finally got to the middle of the valley, I took a deep breath of the cold air in the valley, and then looked up at the vast snow fields around me. The only thing that stood out against the silver gray sky in winter was the ups and downs of the mountains. This scene is not as magnificent as I expected, or a little bit powerful, but it is only rough, monotonous and poor. I began to doubt the significance of such a hard trek, is it just for these dumb mountains? I'm a little bit depressed.
My father seemed to understand my mind from my disappointed and complaining eyes: "have you visited many mountains and rivers since you were young? Today, the purpose of our trip is to visit these common and unknown mountains. What's your... Impression of them? " With that, my father carefully adjusted the focus of the telescope and handed it to me. The lens shortens the distance between me and the four walls of the valley. I saw the dark green pine needles looming under the heavy pressure of the heavy snow - groups of pine trees are hard to take root on the sandy soil and bare rocks. Life can survive in such bad weather conditions. Standing in several high mountains and valleys, I can still feel the chill of the northwest wind blowing from time to time. My father and I walked across the snow to the foot of the opposite mountain, took off our gloves and patted the cold, hard as iron boulders. They were as rough and bold as men in the north, with stiff lines. What are these rocks guarding? I look up from the bottom of the mountain - at this moment, my mood changes instantly, and I really realize that this is a real mountain.
There is no praise left by the bustling tourists all year round, only the noise of crows in the pine forest; There is no sunny weather and suitable rain, only strong northwest wind and heavy snow. These keep them silent and away from all good names. There is no record of their names or poems written for them in history, but in my heart at this moment, the clear ridge against the gray sky, though not beautiful and tall enough, has become the silhouette of a real mountain: silent and nameless, not fighting for utility, but with the most tenacious and strongest attitude, stubbornly standing on the land it sticks to!