【作文】六年级我最喜欢的季节读后感500字：每个季节都有值得珍惜的地方

我错过的那场桂花

教室图书角新到一本《我最喜欢的季节》，我利用两个课间读完了它。六年级了，季节的文章我读过不少，可这本不一样：作者不挑一个季节来夸，他说每个季节都有值得珍惜的地方。这句话我拿铅笔划了线，是整本书里让我印象最深的一句。

我以前最喜欢夏天，最讨厌秋天。在我眼里，秋天是把叶子从树上拿走的季节：草黄了，花谢了，风把校园里的樟树叶吹得满操场都是，值日生要多扫十分钟。每年一到秋天我就问妈妈，冬天什么时候来，好像秋天只是一条要走过的过道。

可是读完这本书我开始想：我真的看过秋天吗？我记得去年九月，校门口的桂花开了一个星期，放学整条街都是甜的。同学林小晓捡了一根落枝放进文具盒，说要把秋天收进盒子里。我低着头从那股甜味里穿过去，赶回家做习题册。我还记得路口那排银杏黄了，一个小女孩举着叶子拍照，我在旁边看手表，怕迟到。秋天的美就在那里，只是我一直没抬头。

作者在书里写，秋天不是衰败，是收获的季节。读到这句我想到林小晓文具盒里的桂花枝，想到小女孩拍下的银杏叶。她们在收获，我在路过。季节不会因为我不看它就变短，桂花年年都开，可我那些没看过的秋天，已经过完了。书里还说，珍惜不是把好东西存起来，是认真看见它。我以前总以为珍惜是长大以后的事，原来珍惜的本领就是抬头这一动作，会了就会，不会就错过一整季。

我给自己定了一个打算：等今年秋天再来，放学路上走慢一点，闻一闻味道，抬头看一看树的颜色，回来在小本子上写一行字。不为写作文，只为秋天从我手里过的时候，我知道它来过。正在过的季节最值得珍惜——这句话我抄在了本子的第一页，等风一凉，我就再读一遍。

The Osmanthus I Missed

A new book arrived at the front of our classroom reading corner, titled My Favourite Season, and I finished it across two breaks in a row. In Grade Six I have read many passages about seasons, but this one was different: the author does not pick one season to praise. He says every season has a place worth cherishing. I drew a pencil line under that sentence. It is the line that impressed me most in the whole book.

My favourite season used to be summer, and the season I disliked most was autumn. In my eyes autumn was the season that took leaves off trees: the grass turned yellow, the flowers faded, the wind blew camphor leaves all over the playground, and the cleaning duty grew ten minutes longer. Every year when autumn arrived I asked my mother when winter would come, as if autumn were only a corridor to walk through.

After this book I began to wonder: had I ever really seen autumn? I remember the week last September when the osmanthus by the school gate opened, and the whole street home was sweet. My classmate Lin Xiaoxiao picked up a fallen twig and put it in her pencil case, saying she wanted to keep autumn inside. I walked through that sweetness with my head down, hurrying home to my exercise books. I also remember the row of ginkgo trees at the crossing turning yellow, a little girl holding up a leaf for a photo while I watched my watch, afraid of being late. The beauty of autumn was right there; I simply never looked up.

The author writes that autumn is not decline but the season of gathering in. That line made me think of the osmanthus twig in the pencil case of Lin Xiaoxiao, and the ginkgo leaf the little girl photographed. They were gathering; I was passing through. A season does not become shorter because I do not watch it. The osmanthus opens every year, but the autumns I never looked at are already over. The book also says cherishing is not storing good things away but seeing them earnestly. I used to think cherishing was something for after growing up; it turns out the skill of cherishing is simply the act of looking up - master it and you have it, miss it and you lose a whole season.

I have made a plan for myself: when autumn comes again this year, I will walk home more slowly, smell the smells, look up at the colours of the trees, and write one line in a small notebook when I get back. Not for any composition task, only so that when autumn passes through my hands I will know it passed. The season you are in is the season most worth cherishing - I copied that line onto the first page of my notebook, and I will read it again when the wind starts to turn cool.

我等的一直是下一个季节

《我最喜欢的季节》里有一个细节我忘不掉：作者写他小时候总盼着过年，因为冬天有烟花，可真到了过年，他又开始盼春天的第一声雷。书里说，人常常把最好的季节放在下一个，结果一年到头都在等。读到这里我后背一凉——这不就是我吗？

我数了数自己的四季。春天，我嫌柳絮粘在袖子上，嫌风大吹乱卷子，跟同桌说春天最烦，快点到夏天吧。夏天到了，我嫌热，趴在桌上一边写作业一边数日子，说还有多少天就入秋。秋天刚凉快两天，我又嫌树叶掉进校服领子里，嫌白天短得太快。等到冬天，我搓着手盼开学，盼春天。你看，我四个季节里过的全是嫌弃，我真正喜欢的从来不是哪个季节，而是还没有来的那个季节。

书里让我印象最深的句子就在这一章：值得珍惜的地方不在下一个季节里，就在你正站着的地方。我想起去年春天，同桌周雨拉我去看操场边的柳絮，说它们像下了一场倒过来的雪。我嫌脏，没去。后来整个夏天她都在跟我讲那场柳絮雪，讲得我好羡慕。同样的春天，她在过，我在盼。她拥有过春天，我只拥有过对夏天的等待。

合上书那天正好是周五，窗外在下春雨。我做了一个打算：给自己列一张小小的季节清单，不写要盼什么，只写这个季节正在发生什么——春天就写雨、写柳絮、写放学路上踩到的小水洼；把清单贴在书桌前，每过一样就划掉一样。我想把盼着的日子改成过着的日子。六年级了，剩下的四季掰着指头数得清，我不想再让任何一个季节在我手里只是过道。今天就是那个值得珍惜的地方，这话我头一回读到时不信，现在我想试一试。

I Was Always Waiting for the Next Season

There is one detail in My Favourite Season I cannot forget: the author writes that as a child he always longed for the New Year, because winter had fireworks, yet once the New Year came he began longing for the first thunder of spring. The book says people often keep their best season in the next one, so that all year long they are only waiting. I felt a chill reading that - is that not exactly me?

I counted up my four seasons. In spring I grumbled at catkins sticking to my sleeves, at the wind messing up my papers, and told my deskmate spring was the most annoying, please hurry to summer. When summer came I grumbled at the heat, wrote homework face down on the desk while counting days until autumn. Autumn gave me only two cool days before I grumbled at leaves falling into my uniform collar, at the daylight shrinking too fast. When winter arrived I rubbed my hands and longed for school to reopen, longed for spring. You see, across four seasons all I served was grumbling. What I truly loved was never any season but the one that had not come yet.

The sentence that impressed me most sits in that same chapter: the place worth cherishing is not in the next season but exactly where you are standing. I remembered last spring, when my deskmate Zhou Yu pulled me to see the willow catkins by the playground, saying they were like a snowfall turned upside down. I called them dirty and did not go. All summer long she told me about that catkin snow, and I was green with envy. In the same spring, she was living it while I was waiting it out. She owned spring; I owned only the waiting for summer.

The day I closed the book was a Friday, and spring rain was falling outside the window. I made a decision: write myself a small season list - not of things to long for, but of things this season is doing right now. For spring, write the rain, the catkins, the little puddles I step in on the way home. I stuck the list above my desk, and each time one thing passes, I cross it off. I want to turn waiting days into living days. I am in Grade Six now; the seasons left in primary school can be counted on fingers. I do not want any more seasons to be mere corridors in my hands. Today is the place worth cherishing - when I first read those words I did not believe them. Now I want to try.