A burst of fruit fragrance drifted over, and I followed the fragrance to the orchard. The autumn wind blew, and the leaves fluttered in the air like butterflies, and finally fell to the ground. The "crunching" sound when stepped on was like the music played by the autumn girl. The oranges hanging on the branches were like beautiful girls blushing, the big pears were bulging, and the persimmon trees were full of lanterns. At this time, the fruit farmer uncle set up a ladder, skillfully picked oranges and threw one to me. I peeled the skin and ate it, and the sweetness penetrated my throat.

Autumn is a painter, painting the earth into a colorful picture.