染雾暴风雨的英语作文 篇一：Surviving the Storm
Storms are a natural phenomenon that can be both awe-inspiring and terrifying. One such storm that left a lasting impact on me was a violent thunderstorm that occurred last summer. The ferocity of the storm was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
It was a hot and humid day, with dark clouds gathering in the sky. As the day progressed, the wind started to pick up, and ominous rumblings could be heard in the distance. Sensing the impending storm, I quickly gathered my belongings and sought shelter in my house.
As the storm approached, the sky turned a deep shade of gray, and the wind howled through the trees. The rain came down in torrents, lashing against the windows and creating an eerie ambiance. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the dark clouds. It felt as if the world was being torn apart by the wrath of nature.
Inside the house, I could hear the sound of the storm raging outside. The wind rattled the windows, and the rain pounded on the roof, creating a symphony of chaos. I felt a mix of fear and exhilaration as I watched the storm unfold from the safety of my home.
But not everyone was as fortunate. The storm wreaked havoc on the surrounding area, causing power outages and flooding. Trees were uprooted, and debris littered the streets. The force of the storm was a stark reminder of the power of nature and how insignificant we are in comparison.
The storm eventually passed, leaving behind a scene of destruction and devastation. As the sun emerged from behind the clouds, I ventured outside to assess the damage. The streets were filled with fallen branches and flooded roads. It was a sobering sight.
However, amidst the destruction, there was also a sense of resilience. The community came together to help one another, clearing debris and offering support. It was heartwarming to witness the unity and compassion that arose in the aftermath of the storm.
Reflecting on the experience, I realized the importance of being prepared for such natural disasters. While we cannot control the weather, we can take measures to ensure our safety. From having emergency supplies to creating an evacuation plan, being prepared can make all the difference in surviving a storm.
In conclusion, the violent thunderstorm I experienced last summer was a stark reminder of the power of nature. It left a lasting impact on me, both in terms of fear and awe. However, it also taught me the value of resilience and preparedness. Surviving a storm requires a combination of caution, unity, and adaptability.
暴风雨的英语作文 篇三
Glories of the Storm
It begins when a feeling of stillness creeps into my consciousness. Every thing has suddenly gone quiet. Birds do not chirp. Leaves do not rustle. Insects do not sing.
The air that has been hot all day becomes heavy. It hangs over the trees, presses the heads of the flowers to the ground, sits on my shoulders. With a vague feeling of uneasiness I move to the window. There, in the west, lies the answer - cloud has piled on cloud to form a ridge of mammoth while towers, rearing against blue sky.
Their piercing whiteness is of brief duration. Soon the marshmallow rims flatten to anvil tops, and the clouds reveal their darker nature. They impose themselves before the late-afternoon sun, and the day darkens early. Then a gust of wind ships the dust along the road, chill warning of what is to come.
In the house a door shuts with a bang, curtains billow into the room. I rush to close the windows, empty the clothesline, secure the patio furnishings. Thunder begins to grumble in the distance.
The first drops of rain are huge. They splat into the dust and imprint the windows with inpidual signatu
res. They plink on the vent pipe and plunk on the patio roof. Leaves shudder under their weight before rebounding, and sidewalk wears a coat of shiny spots.
The rhythm accelerates; plink follows plunk faster and faster until the sound is a roll of drums and the inpidual drops become an army marching over fields and rooftops. Now the first bolt of lightning stabs the earth. It is heaven's exclamation point. The storm is here!
In spite of myself, I jump at the following crack of thunder. It rattles the windowpane and sends the dog scratching to get under the bed. The next bolt is even closer. It raises the hair on the back of my neck, and I take an involuntary step away from the window.
The rain now becomes a torrent, flung capriciously by rising wind. Together they batter the trees and level the grasses. Water streams off roofs and out of rain spouts. It pounds against the window in such a steady wash that I am sightless. There is only water. How can so much fall so fast? How could the clouds have supported this vast weight? How can the earth endure beneath it?
Pacing through the house from window to window, I am moved to openmouthed wonder. Look how the lilac bends under the assault, how the day lilies are flattened, how the hillside steps are a new made waterfall! Now hailstones thump upon the roof. They bounce white against the grass and splash into the puddle. I think of the vegetable garden, the fruit trees, the crops in the fields; but, thankfully, the hailstones are not enough in numbers or size to do real damage. Not this time.
From this storm is already beginning to pass. The tension is released from the atmosphere, the curtains of rain let in more light. The storm has spend most of its energy, and what is left will be expended on the countryside to the east.
I am drawn outside while the rain still falls. All around, there is a cool and welcome feeling. I breathe deeply and watch the sun's rays streaks through breaking clouds. One ray catches the drops that form on the edge of the roof, and I am treated to a row of tiny, quivering colors - my private rainbows.
I pick my way through the west grass, my feet sinking into the saturated soil. The creek in the gully runs bank - full of brown water, but the small lakes and puddles are already disappearing into the earth. Every leaf, brick, single, and blade of grass is fresh-washed and shining.
Like the land, I am renewed, my spirits cleansed. I feel an infinite peace. Fro a time I have forgotten the worries and irritations I am nurturing before. They have been washed away by the glories of the storm.
暴风雨的英语作文 篇四
Glories of the Storm
It begins when a feeling of stillness creeps into my consciousness.Everything has suddenly gone quiet.Birds do not chirp. Leaves donot rustle.Insects do not sing.The air that has been hot all day becomes heavy.It hangs over thetrees, presses the heads of the flowers to the ground, sits on myshoulders.With a vague feeling of uneasiness I move to the window.There, in the west, lies the answer-cloud has piled on cloudto form a ridge of mammoth white towers, rearing against bluesky.Their piecing whiteness is of brief duration.Soon themarshmallow rims flatten to anvil tops, and the clouds revealtheir darker nature.They impose themselves before thelate-afternoon sun, and the day darkens early.
Then a gust of windwhips the dust along the road, chill warning of what is tocome.In the house a door shuts with a bang, curtains billow into theroom.I rush to close the windows, empty the clothesline, securethe patio furnishings.Thunder begins to grumble in thedistance.The first drops of rain are huge.They splat into the dust andimprint the windows with inpidual signatures.They plink on thevent pipe and plunk on the patio roof.Leaves shudder under theirweight before rebounding, and the sidewalk wears a coat of shinyspots.The rhythm accelerates; plink follows plunk faster and faster untilthe sound is a roll of drums and the inpidual drops become anarmymarching over fields and rooftops.Now the first bolt oflightning stabs the earth. It is heaven’s exclamation point.Thestorm is here.In spite of myself, I jump at the following crack of thunder.
It rattles the windowpane and sends the dog scratching to get underthe bed.The next bolt is even closer.It raises the hair on theback of my neck, and I take an involuntary step away from thewindow.The rain now becomes a torrent,flung capriciously by a rising wind.Together they batter the trees and level the grasses.Water streams off roofs and out of rain spouts.It pounds against the window in such a steady wash that I am sightless.There is only water.How can so much fall so fast?How could the clouds have supported this vast weight?How ran the earth endure beneath it?
