词汇：dusty

adj. 落满灰尘的

相关场景

Lake Casa Blanca didn’t exist back then and Laredo doesn’t resemble the dusty, dry town of Lonesome Dove at all. When we left Laredo and started driving north on I-35 towards San Antonio the landscape looked more like it must have looked like to the cowboys. On both sides of the interstate were fields of cactus, mesquite, yucca and dust with few trees in sight. The railroad, which was built following the cattle trail that was used by the real cattlemen, runs beside I-35 most of the way to San Antonio. There are few towns and for miles and miles there was no sign of civilization except the vehicles on the interstate.
那时卡萨布兰卡湖并不存在，拉雷多根本不像尘土飞扬、干旱的孤独鸽镇。当我们离开拉雷多，开始沿着I-35向北驶向圣安东尼奥时，风景看起来更像牛仔们的样子。州际公路两侧是仙人掌、豆科植物、丝兰和尘土的田野，几乎看不到树木。这条铁路是沿着真正的牧场主使用的牛道修建的，在通往圣安东尼奥的大部分路上都沿着I-35公路行驶。这里几乎没有城镇，除了州际公路上的车辆外，几英里外都没有文明的迹象。
>> 2024-10 The metamorphosis from anxious wife
PETER PARKER:
Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? I must've passed out, Because I woke up, and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there, right? He was like, "It's been five years. Come on, they need us." And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does all the time–
>> Avengers: Endgame 复仇者联盟4：终局之战 Movie Script
Seeing the pilots running for the P-40's, the Zeros aim for them; Rafe and Danny race for the most distant of the planes; Joe and Theo run for the closer planes, through the dusty bullet hits.
>> Pearl Harbor 珍珠港（2001） Movie Script
EXT DAY:
COUNTRY ROAD They continue through dusty country roads, where occasionally a donkey pulling a cart, or a lone horseman will pass them.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
EXT DAY:
SICILY ROAD The THREE move through a flock of wind-blown sheep, and make their way to a dusty rural road. We HEAR a rinky horn sound, as a pre-war Italian automobile makes its way to them.
>> The Godfather教父 1972 Movie Script
“Have you cheered up because I left Lorie behind?” Augustus asked as they were riding together one morning. Far to the south they saw a black line of mountains. To the north there was only the dusty plain.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He finally turned and plodded after the herd, Lippy following at a slow walk in the wagon. But Po Campo felt they were wrong to leave the river. He became moody and ceased to have pride in his cooking, and if the cowboys complained he said nothing. Also, he grew stingy with water, which irritated the cowboys, who came in parched and dusty, dying for a drink. Po Campo would only give them a dipperful each.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He walked along the dusty street for a few minutes, wiping the tears out of his eyes with his shirtsleeve. One or two men observed him curiously. It was obvious that he was upset, but no one said anything to him. He remembered walking into the post office in Fort Worth and getting the letter that told him about Ellie. Since then, it had all been puzzlement and pain. He felt that in most ways it would have been better if he had died on the plains with the rest of them. He was tired of wandering and looking.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Sally Skull had bad teeth and a thin body with no particular beauties. Her long legs were skinny as a bird’s, and she had nothing that could match Lorena’s fine bosom. If anyone said a wrong word to her they got a tongue-lashing that would make the coarsest man blush. If one of her girls got too sweet on a cowboy, which could always happen in her profession, Sal promptly got rid of her, shoving her out the back door of the saloon into the dusty street. “Don’t get in love around me,” she would say. “Go do it in the alley if you want to give it away.” Once she fired three girls in one day for lazing around with the boys. For the next week she serviced most of the customers herself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
But he was forced to wait, as the old man scratched around in piles of dusty papers and looked in fifteen or twenty pigeonholes. “Dern,” the old man said. “I remember you having a letter. I hope some fool ain’t thrown it away by mistake.” Three cowboys came in, all with letters they had written to their sisters or sweethearts, and all of them had to stand there waiting while the old man continued his search. July’s heart began to sink. Probably the old man had a poor memory, and if there was a letter it was for somebody else.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I’m glad there’s some left,” he said. “I know the hide hunters have about killed them off.” Late that day they rode into Fort Worth. The number of houses amazed Joe, and the wide, dusty streets were filled with wagons and buggies. July decided they ought to go to the post office first, though at the last minute he became so worried about his letter that he almost decided not to mail it. He wanted badly to mail it, and yet he didn’t want to.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Joe himself was happy enough to be gone from Fort Smith, though he missed Roscoe somewhat. Otherwise he took a lively interest in the sights along the way, though for a while the sights consisted mostly of trees. Gradually they began to get out into more open country. One day, to his delight, they surprised a small bunch of buffalo, only eight animals. The buffalo ran off, and he and July raced after them for a while to get a better look. After a couple of miles they came to a little river and they stopped to watch the buffalo cross. Even July forgot his gloom for a few minutes at the sight of the big, dusty animals.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
As they rode out of the river the four men waiting whipped up their mounts and raced down to meet them. One of them carried a lance strung with patches of hair. Lorena had never seen a scalp before, but she felt sure the patches were scalps. Most seemed old and dusty, but one, a patch of shiny black hair, was still crusted with blood. All of the men were Indians, heavily armed.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He still worked the drags; as the grass improved the work was a little less dusty. He mainly rode along with the Rainey boys, discussing things they might see up the trail. A major topic of speculation was whether the Indians had actually been whipped or not.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Newt? Why, who knows?” Jake said. “Maggie was a whore.” Then he sighed and lay down beside her, running his hand up and down her body. “Lorie, me and you was meant for feather beds,” he said. “We wasn’t meant for these dusty blankets. If we could find a nice hotel I’d show you some fun.” Lorena didn’t answer. She would rather keep traveling. When Jake had his feel he went to sleep.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
She just had a dusty little room in a boardinghouse in St. Jo, and the boy a cubbyhole in the attic. Dee snuck in twice, in the dead of night, so as not to tarnish her reputation. He liked Joe, too, and had the notion that he ought to grow up to be something. It was the last time she saw Dee that they had worked out the smallpox story.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
At the thought of them his eyes teared up, making his last look at Lonesome Dove a watery one. The dusty street wavered in his vision as if under a heavy rain.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Then, the very minute she got in the room, Jake decided he wanted a poke, and in a hurry. He had drunk a half glass of whiskey while he was climbing the stairs, and a big shot of whiskey nearly always made him want it. He was dusty as could be from a day with the cattle, and would usually have waited for a bath, or at least washed the grit off his face and hands in the washbasin, but this time he didn’t wait. He even tried to kiss her with his hat on, which didn’t work at all. His hat was as dusty as the rest of him. The dust got in her nose and made her sneeze. His haste was unusual—he was a picky man, apt to complain if the sheets weren’t clean enough to suit him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The problem was that Dish could not believe in the swarm of bandits. Under the red afterglow the town was still as a church. Now and then there was the bleat of a goat or the call of a bullbat, but that was all. It was so peaceful that Dish soon convinced himself there was no need for two men to waste the whole evening in a dusty corral. The bandits were theoretical, but Lorena was real, and only two hundred yards away.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
In a few minutes more, as the herd neared the river, the darkness loosened and began to gray. The red on the eastern horizon was no longer a line but spread upward like an opened fan. Soon Newt could see the horses moving through the first faint gray light—a lot of horses. Then, just as he thought he had brought the flood within himself under control, the darkness loosened its hold yet more and the first sunlight streamed across the plain, filtering through the cloud of dust to touch the coats of the tired horses, most of whom had slowed to a rapid trot. Ahead, waiting on the bank of the river, was Captain Call, the big Henry in the crook of his arm. The Hell Bitch was lathered with sweat, but her head was up and she slung it restlessly as she watched the herd approach-even pointing her keen ears at Mouse for a moment. Neither the Captain nor the gray mare looked in the least affected by the long night or the hard ride, yet Newt found himself so moved by the mere sight of them sitting there that he had to brush away yet another tear and smudge his dusty cheek even worse.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
No one else got much use out of it, and it was unusual to see two horsemen on a hot afternoon stop and read the sign instead of loping on into Lonesome Dove to wet their dusty gullets.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Call looked north across the dusty flats, as if estimating in his mind’s eye the great rise of the plains, stretching even farther than hearsay, away and beyond the talk of men. Jake that morning had mentioned the Milk River, a stream he had never heard of. He knew the country he knew, and had never been lost in it, but the country he knew stopped at the Arkansas River. He had known men speak of the Yellowstone as if it were the boundary of the world; even Kit Carson, whom he had met twice, had not talked of what lay north of it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He stood up and walked to the door to look over the hot, dusty little town.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Jake saw Bolivar coming from the old cistern with a bucketful of water. Bolivar was a new face, and one that had no interest in his homecoming. A little cool water sloshed over the edges of the bucket, looking very good to a man with a mouth as dusty as Jake’s.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He stepped down into the dusty yard and walked around to the springhouse to get his jug. The sun was still high, sulled in the sky like a mule, but Augustus had a keen eye for sun, and to his eye the long light from the west had taken on an encouraging slant.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇