我的乐园四年级英语作文(围绕爷爷的菜园)

我的乐园四年级英语作文(围绕爷爷的菜园)
全文共3篇示例，供读者参考
篇1
My Grandfather's Vegetable Garden
Hi, my name is Emily and I'm in 4th grade. I want to tell you all about my favorite place in the whole wide world – my grandfather's vegetable garden! It's the most magical, wonderful place I can imagine.
My grandpa's garden is huge, taking up almost the entire backyard of his house. When I open the gate and step inside, it's like entering a secret paradise just for me. Tall sunflowers tower over my head, their bright yellow petals smiling down. Rows and rows of plants stretch out as far as I can see, each one different shades of green.
The smells of grandpa's garden are so delicious and earthy. The fresh scent of tomato plants, the pungent aroma of basil and dill, and the sweetness of ripening strawberries all mix together into one amazing smell that is pure happiness to me. I take big deep breaths to fill my nose with all those wonderful smells.
There are so many interesting sights and sounds too! Bumblebees buzz from blossom to blossom, their wings a blur. Little green frogs croak and hop between the leafy plants. Butterflies in every color flit and dance gracefully. Grandpa's old radio plays classic rock and roll songs that I sing along to as I wander the garden paths.
But my very favorite thing about the garden is getting to work alongside grandpa and learn from him. Grandpa has been gardening his whole life, since he was just a kid himself. He knows absolutely everything about raising fruits and vegetables! When I'm with him, he teaches me the secrets to growing healthy, delicious food.
I've learned how to properly prepare the soil by mixing in nutrient-rich compost and amendments. Grandpa showed me the right way to plant seeds at the proper depth and spacing for each type of crop. He taught me to identify different weeds and how to remove them carefully without disturbing the good plants.
Taking care of the garden once the plants start growing is one of the most fun parts. Grandpa has me check the leaves for any signs of insect damage or disease. Together we hand-pick any creepy crawlies that are munching on our crops. I get to help
grandpa build supports and trellises for the climbing plants like beans and cucumbers.
My favorite chore is watering the garden with the old green hose that feels nice and heavy. I have to be really careful not to blast the tender seedlings, but grandpa lets me give the big tomato plants a really good soaking. After I water, I love watching how the plants seem to perk up and rehydrate before my eyes.
The absolute best part is when it's finally time to harvest! Grandpa shows me which vegetables are perfectly ripe and ready to pick. I get to pluck juicy red tomatoes, zucchini as big as my arm, crisp green beans, plump carrots, and much more right off the plants. Grandpa's garden produces so much that he always has plenty left over to share with friends and neighbors.
Once our harvest baskets are overflowing, we take everything inside grandpa's house. His kitchen starts to look and smell just like the garden! Grandpa teaches me how to prepare the fresh veggies - rinsing, chopping, seasoning with just a little salt and pepper. We make the most incredible salads, with all the vegetables still warm from soaking up the summer sun.
Sometimes grandma joins us and together they show me old family recipes to cook up the garden bounty. I've learned to
make grandpa's famous tangy-sweet pasta sauce from scratch with fresh tomatoes and herbs. Grandma taught me her secret recipe for zucchini bread that's super moist and perfectly spiced. No meal has ever tasted as good as one made with ingredients I helped grow myself!
Working in grandpa's garden has given me such an appreciation for where real food comes from. It's not just something that appears magically on grocery store shelves. Growing a garden takes patience, knowledge, hard work and nurturing. I feel so lucky grandpa is passing down his passion and wisdom to me.
I hope I can have my very own vegetable garden someday when I'm grown up. I'll remember all of grandpa's lessons about soil, seeds, pests, and harvesting. Whenever I look at a ripe, delicious vegetable, I'll think of the warm sunshine, earthy smells, and precious time with my grandpa in his amazing garden that I love so much. It really is my own personal paradise on Earth!
篇2
My Grandpa's Garden Paradise
I absolutely love going to my grandpa's house. He lives in a little yellow house at the edge of our town with the most
amazing garden you've ever seen. As soon as I hop out of the car, I can smell the fresh air and fragrant flowers. I race through the gate and into grandpa's backyard paradise.
Grandpa's vegetable garden takes up almost the entire yard. He has row after row of plants in thick, rich soil that he works on all day every day. There are tomato plants dripping with ripe red fruits, leafy greens like lettuce and spinach, rows of green beans, carrots poking up from the ground, and a pumpkin patch in the back corner. Grandpa even has fruit trees - a few apple, pear, and peach trees line one side.
But my favorite area is grandpa's flower garden. It runs all along the fence with bursts of colors and sweet smells. Grandpa has roses of every shade, sunflowers taller than me reaching up to the sky, and beds of wildflowers in purples, yellows, oranges, and pinks. I love walking slowly along the flowerbeds, leaning down to sniff each blossom. Grandpa chuckles and says I have as delicate a nose as a butterfly.
In the very center of the garden is grandpa's prized greenhouse. It's a little glass hut packed full of seedlings, potted herbs, and unusual plants from all over. Grandpa spends hours in the greenhouse every morning and evening working with his plants. When I visit, he always lets me help water them with a
little green watering can. The greenhouse gets hot and humid inside, making me feel like I'm in a tropical rainforest rather than my grandpa's backyard.
My grandpa has been gardening since he was a young boy growing up on a farm. He learned all about planting crops, rotating fields, and caring for plants from his own dad. Grandpa says he'll never forget those long summer days out in the fields with his father working hard under the sun. When he got older and moved to town, he turned his whole yard into fertile garden space to grow his own food just like on the farm.
Grandpa puts so much work into his garden. Every morning before the sun gets too hot, he's out weeding, pruning, watering his thirsty plants with the hose, and checking for pests. He makes his own rich compost with food scraps and dried leaves. Sometimes I watch in amazement as he gently pollinates plants by hand with a soft brush. Gardening is truly an art form for him. In the evenings after dinner, we'll often sit outside as the sun goes down so he can show me how much the plants have grown that day.
I love learning about gardening from my grandpa. He has taught me all about the life cycles of plants, what different bugs are helpful or harmful, and what plants tend to grow well
together with their different needs. Grandpa has an incredible green thumb - everything he grows is healthy and vibrant. I've tried growing plants at home following his lessons but I'm afraid I don't have his magic touch yet.
More than anything though, I cherish the quality time I get to spend with grandpa in his garden. We'll walk around surveying his crops and latest blooms as he tells me stories from his childhood on the farm or any interesting plant facts he's learned over the years. I'll snack on fresh peas or beans straight from the vine as he prunes and tends to each plant with such loving care. It's a peaceful haven away from the bustle of the outside world - just me, grandpa, and his flourishing garden.
I know my grandpa works so hard on his little backyard garden to make sure my family always has fresh, delicious fruits and vegetables. It brings him so much joy and pride to see his garden thriving and to share the harvest. At least once a week he'll show up at our doorstep with a basket laden down with ripe tomatoes, crisp greens, juicy berries, or whatever is in season.
My grandpa's main rule is that we have to eat everything in his garden at its absolute freshest and most flavorful. As soon as he picks it, it goes straight to our table with maybe just a quick rinse of cool water. Grandpa scoffs at grocery stores and their
sad, withered produce that was picked ages ago and traveled hundreds of miles. The difference in taste is amazing - his homegrown food is so unbelievably sweet, vibrant, and full of life.
I savor every single bite of grandpa's lovingly grown food. There's nothing better than a lunchtime salad made from his perfectly ripe tomatoes, onions, carrots, greens, and whatever else is freshly picked. Or a baked sweet potato dripping with butter and brown sugar that was pulled right from his garden that morning. Grandpa's raspberries and strawberries are little bursts of sugary goodness that melt in your mouth. I look forward to the fall when we get to enjoy his crisp, tart apples and velvety pears for months.
Whenever I miss my grandpa's garden, I just close my eyes and let the familiar sights, smells, and tastes wash over me. I picture the vibrant blooms crowding the flowerbeds and the lush green rows of plants thriving under the warm sun. I can practically smell the rich, earthy scent of grandpa's soil and compost. Most of all, I imagine the incredible flavors - crisp carrot tops, bursting cherry tomatoes, the floral aroma of fresh basil. My grandpa's garden is like an edible paradise.
My grandpa has so much knowledge about gardening and the natural world from decades of experience. But to me, beyond all the planting tips and techniques, the most important lessons I've learned are about hard work, patience, and taking the time to appreciate the beauty in life. Gardening requires daily dedication to make a vision come to life. My grandpa wakes up early and works late ensuring each plant gets just the right amount of water, nutrients, light, and tender care to grow big and strong. He accepts that some seasons will be harder than others depending on the weather or pest problems. But he keeps steadily tending to his garden knowing the rewards will eventually come. Grandpa has definitely passed that diligence and perseverance down to me.
More than that though, my grandpa has shown me how to slow down and revel in the quiet joys of our natural world. He'll pause his work just to watch the butterflies flit between flowers and listen to the buzz of bees pollinating his crops. Grandpa always reminds me to take a deep breath and appreciate the fresh, floral air that I'm so fortunate to breathe in. "Can you smell that sweetness?" he'll ask with the brightest smile. "That's the real essence of life blooming all around us." Being in his garden is like therapy for the soul - connecting with the cycles of nature, working with my hands in the rich soil, and letting the tranquility
of growth and new life wash over me. What could be more beautiful?
My grandpa's incredible backyard garden is so much more than just rows of plants and blooms - it's a vibrant community, a nurturing classroom, and a sanctuary all in one. It's where I've learned to appreciate where real food comes from and what it takes to grow it. It's where I go to breathe deeply, find peace, and absorb the wisdom of my grandpa's lifetime tending to nature. But most of all, my grandpa's garden is where I've built some of my most cherished memories and felt at home in his embrace of life's simple pleasures and profound beauty. It's truly my own personal paradise on earth.
篇3
My Paradise: My Grandfather's Garden
Ever since I was very little, my favorite place in the whole world has been my grandfather's garden. It's a magical place filled with colors, smells, and tastes that delight all my senses. Just thinking about it makes me smile from ear to ear. My grandfather's garden is truly my paradise.
I still remember the first time I visited the garden. I was probably about three years old. Grandpa took my tiny hand in his
large, calloused one and led me out the back door and into his special world. Rows and rows of plants stretched out in front of me, a verdant jungle just waiting to be explored. Grandpa pointed out all the different vegetables - tomatoes, carrots, beans, peppers. He showed me the strawberry patch with the bright red berries peeking through the green leaves. I was awestruck.
As we wandered up and down the neat rows, he'd pause to inspect the plants, gently brushing the soil aside or carefully checking under leaves. He'd murmur things like "Looking good" or "Those aphids are back again." I didn't understand much of what he said, but I loved the sound of his gravelly voice. He always seemed so peaceful and content when he was in his garden.
At the end of our little tour, he bent down and plucked a plump red tomato, brushing off the dirt with his thumb. He handed it to me, instructing "Now take a bite, but be careful, it's going to be tasty!" I eyed the tomato skeptically - it looked so different from the sad, pale things we got at the grocery store. But I trusted my grandpa, so I took a small nibble. An explosion of intense tomatoey flavor burst over my tongue. It was the most
delicious thing I'd ever tasted! From that day on, I was hooked on my grandpa's amazing fruits and veggies.
As I grew older, going to Grandpa's garden remained my favorite activity. Once I turned six, he started giving me small jobs to do - weeding, watering, or harvesting ripe produce. No matter how monotonous the task, I loved every second I spent in the garden. Grandpa seemed happiest when he could pass along his hard-won knowledge about all things green and growing.
He taught me which insects were "good bugs" that helped the garden and which were "bad bugs" that damaged the plants. He showed me how to gently pluck ripe vegetables, leaving the ones that still needed more time on the vine. And he instructed me in the centuries-old gardening tricks he'd learned from his own grandfather - like burying fish heads at the base of corn stalks to fertilize the soil or sprinkling pondered eggshells around the base of tomato plants to prevent blossom end rot.
As the years went on, I became Grandpa's regular gardening assistant. I looked forward to every summer when school let out and I could spend my days in that wonderful outdoor sanctuary. We'd wake up at the crack of dawn to beat the heat, working for a few hours before going inside for a breakfast of amazing
just-picked strawberries, cream, and Grandma's famous buttermilk biscuits.
After our morning's labor, we'd settle back in a shady corner of the garden while Grandpa read aloud to me from his battered copy of The Secret Garden or Farmer Boy. I'd rest my head on his ample belly and listen raptly as he painted pictures with words of far-off gardens and pastoral fields. For those blissful hours, I was transported, lost in another world.
Once the afternoon heat became too intense, we'd head inside, lapping up Grandma's fresh-squeezed lemonade and taking a restful break. But just before sunset, we'd go back out to do one final check for pests or ripe produce we'd missed earlier. I loved that magical hour when the low rays of golden sunshine bathed the garden in a heavenly glow.
Some of my most cherished childhood memories happened in that backyard paradise. Like the time we harvested the entire raspberry patch, stuffing our mouths full of the jewel-toned berries until our lips and fingers were utterly stained. Or when a summer thunderstorm rolled in while we were out working, and Grandpa insisted we stay and "enjoy the rain." I danced wildly between the rows, shrieking with laughter as the warm droplets pelted my face and soaked my clothes.
Even after all these years, just closing my eyes can vividly transport me back to that beloved garden. I can picture every detail perfectly — the ramshackle shed piled with gardening tools in the far corner, the bird bath for the robins who liked to splash in the shallow water on scorching afternoons, and the lumpy old scarecrow standing guard next to the corn patch. I can hear the buzzing of bees and smell the pungent aroma of tomato leaves on the humid summer breeze.
My grandpa's garden will forever remain a sacred, special place in my heart. It was an earthly paradise where I came of age, exploring the natural world and learning invaluable lessons about hard work, patience, and the cycles of life. More importantly, it was my special place to spend quality time with my grandpa, the man I most admired. He bestowed priceless nuggets of wisdom upon me in that fragrant soil as we toiled side by side, nurturing the plants through their journey from tiny seedlings to fully flourishing bounty.
Sadly, my grandfather passed away last year at the wonderful old age of 92. His death left me heartbroken, but also immensely grateful for the lifetime of cherished memories he gifted me, most of which bloomed in his beloved garden. As I child, I didn't fully comprehend the gift he was giving me by
allowing me to be part of that world and passing along his precious knowledge. Now I understand what a tremendous privilege it was.
These days, I've taken over as keeper of the family garden, doing my humble best to ensure its magic never fades. With each seed I lovingly tuck into the rich, dark soil, I can hear my grandpa's voice echoing years of wisdom and gentle encouragement in my head. When I spot a ladybug exploring a leaf, I smile and think of him pointing out the valuable job that "good bug" does for the garden.
Most importantly, whenever I take that first bite of a。