Spring is coming, it’s time to sow

Grandpa lived alone in his hometown. His mother who worked in the county went home to see him once every half a month, and his younger brother who went to high school in the county went back to see him once every month on vacation, my father and I, who were far away from home, called him once a week. These data are all his thoughts. After the approval of the suite and dormitory allocated by dad’s unit, Grandpa would be taken out, but Grandpa was not willing. He said that he couldn’t put down the vegetable field at home. There were his whole youth and middle age, his thoughts and thoughts. I know, more, it was because he couldn’t put down the land. When he called back on Saturday morning, Grandpa was hoeing in the vegetable field. He said he would plant some green vegetables. I told him that we were not at home normally, and he was the only one who planted less. We couldn’t finish it even if we planted less. Grandpa said that’s OK. Spring is coming. It should be planted. Standing in the ground, it is empty, and the whole body is uncomfortable. In the days when I left my hometown, I always forgot when to plant vegetables and when to harvest rice. I forgot when the wild flowers on the mountain Bloom and when to thank them. But I often miss those immature days when I was young, fighting water battles in the rice fields full of seedlings, digging loaches beside the rice fields where rice grows vigorously, pick up the missing wheat ears in the rice field full of rice stalks after cutting the rice. Frame by frame after growing up, the picture was fixed on the notebook which only belonged to that childhood, where there was the most innocent smile and the most carefree smiling face. At that time, happiness was a very simple thing, that is, a malt sugar and a pack of snacks were enough, and I had been missing it for a long time. The branches of the whole winter were silent for a long time, and the dense green was already rippling out. The blessings of Spring Thunder were passing through the Earth with twists and turns, rumbling like the horn of spring playing. The cuckoo, who had disappeared for a long time, began to show its graceful singing voice again. In every corner of the Earth, mountains and rivers, it was used as its chassis. Singing loudly the desire to sow. Spring is coming, and it is time to sow. If you don’t sow, how can you harvest? If you don’t sow, how can you wait for the Golden Fruit of spring? The ancient motto of planting spring and harvest autumn was written in the passionate March by the gentle wind, as if I could imagine that on the land of my hometown, the busy figures of the uncles were frozen on the fields into magnificent and beautiful landscape ink paintings one after another, which made the charming spring sun vivid. The seeds and hopes soaked in the vat of the Valley finally came to the time when they showed their talents. They embarked on the journey of growth along the old scalpers. In this warm season, sowing is our only language, but with the most beautiful melody. In this season, we sow in the ruins to harvest the newly-growing life; We sow in the barren land to harvest the surprise of birds and flowers. In this season, sowing is a unique poem, and each footprint is a beautiful word, leaving footprints that only belong to the tillers during the trek. In full of expectation, strengthen the initial belief. Cultivate, wait, Harvest, a reincarnation. After paying sweat, step on the green channel leading to harvest and get the passport to touch the fruit. Spring is coming, it’s time to sow! Sow our hopes, dreams and expectations for ourselves.

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