Cinnamon tea

The other day I was walking with my mother by the river, and she said, "Why hasn't this year's cinnamon come on?" There were some faint disappointments in the language. So let us see the guacamole around us. It was only small flowers, and a slanted, leaning towards its neck, pulling its head in half, thinking it was a hot summer typhoon, an anemone, to blow it to the ground. Today, when we came down here at noon with the dog's skin, and suddenly a fragrance came up, it came as a surprise to discover that the cerin trees on the side of the road were full of little flowers like rice grains, light yellow, because they were too small to see the flowers, and young and cute to hide between an elliptical green leaf. The fragrance of guacamole is particularly glamorous and not as euphemistic as that of orchids, so that at a young age there is a certain phase of detesting the fragrance of guacamole, so that every mother is threatened with a hunger strike when she inserts sweet guacamole. Many years later, standing under these guacamole trees, suddenly enjoying the fragrance of August, yes, none of the fragrances is as wild as the guacamole, neither hiding nor hiding, nor covering, but the little flowers have a wild power to live in the fragrant autumn. And because it is not able to move in gestures, nor to shine in colour, the fragrance that is given by nature is waved in a mad way into the air of August, every inch of which is sweet and sweet. No wonder Southern Song's name, Sang-Li Lee, sees Guihua as his confidant. He fights against the gold and has not been paid. He retires to Fukuo in his late years, planting guacamole trees in the garden and pouring them out of his heart every day. When he wrote the word "succumber" in a study entitled "Guinza" : the fragrance does not glow in spring, waits for the autumn wind, waits for the autumn wind, and the fragrance is thicker than the rest of the flowers. The golden men are like the jade, and they blow, and they blow, just as the moon falls. This feeling, apart from the cinnamon tree, is difficult for us to understand without the tears of our struggle. That is why it was only after a thousand sails that I, who had rejected the guacamole, found out that we had missed so many good things because we were picky, because we were deranged, but we mistook the fragrance of the garden. How complicated was that old man in Guisairi a hundred years ago? In the smoke? Only these cinnamon trees will know him! Yes, it's too late for me to look far north! ♪ A little bit of makeup ♪ And the kettle shall be of old age, a few bright windows, and a few bright windows, and they shall fade down. Forget it. What do you want? What was not possible a thousand years ago and still not a thousand years later. Why don't we make a cup of cuisine tea, and eat tea, and bring all the sorrows of the forest to the fore