Time flies like water, and the four seasons cycle. Cuckoo came from east to west as scheduled. It stands upright, "Goo Goo ……", playing like a piccolo, blowing the flute, lingering in the hut and echoing in the vast fields. This flute released the expectation of harvest and was full of imagination of harvest.
One day in May, the sun was shining and white clouds were floating in the blue sky. The wind blows away the clouds, like a fairy's white skirt, erratic and conspicuous. In the field, the endless wheat seedlings are green and full of vitality. Suddenly, with the east wind overnight, the green fields were covered with golden armor; The wheat waves rolled and reflected Qinchuan, and the wind turned the blue sky in Shu Yun. Full ears of wheat stand upright and dry, angular, noble and elegant. After a gust of wind, the wheat stretched out its soft waist, shining with golden light, like rolling waves, wave after wave, disappearing into the depths of the wilderness. It's really magnificent. Looking at the rolling wheat waves, the villagers were all smiles. The rolling wheat waves rooted in the yellow land are not only a symbol of home, but also bear the changes in the Spring and Autumn Period, pinning people's yearning and expectation for a better life.
When the wheat wind comes, the waves rise and the birds are in a hurry. The harvest is in sight and the birds enjoy it. Groups of sparrows are also singing and dancing all the way, or lurking in the canopy of the roadside, or flying around the fields in groups, jumping into the golden waves in the rustling of wheat waves, greedily pecking at the full wheat grains and tasting the faint wheat fragrance; Huang Tong, carrying a pole, screamed at the top of his lungs and ran across the ridges; Birds fly around in surprise, sometimes flying east and west, children are chasing, people and birds are fascinated and funny. Wheat waves, fertile soil, green trees, birds singing and the hiss of children are walking on this field of hope. In this beautiful picture, people feel the rhythm of nature's life, hoping that time will stop and the scenery will not die.
The sun is like fire, roasting the earth, and the wheat grains gradually turn from soft to hard, from green to yellow, lying comfortably in the comfortable wheat shell, waiting for people to welcome it back to the granary.
The cock crows three times and sharpens the knife; At dawn, impatient people are holding bright sickles, facing the mist and dawn, stepping into the wheat field with crystal dew, holding hands, waving sickles and foot hooks, with skillful movements; The waist, bundle and pile are busy and orderly. When I was a child, wheat bales stood in the fields like sentries guarding the border. After noon, the grasshopper jumping in front of the sickle can't stand the exposure of poisonous days and crows happily. The straw hat on the village man's head can't stop the sunset, the bronze spine is as eternal as sculpture, holding the ears of wheat, stretching and bending, and the sweat on his dark face is like rain, dripping on the hot fertile soil; The hard work of harvesting can't hide the joy of harvesting.
Busy for a few days, there are no traces of wheat waves in the wilderness. Followed by traffic, people cheered, carriages, shelf cars, tractors loaded with wheat bundles running on the road in the field. The threshing floor is bustling, the rough atmosphere is full of laughter, the horn is melodious, and the song "In the field of hope" echoes among the towering wheat stacks; In the huge threshing scene, more than a dozen oxen pulled their sleeves, "creaked", and the heavy shaft ran over the thick ears of wheat, and the grain swished down; Turn over the fields, grind again, pick grass, collect piles, and be busy. As the sun sets and the wind blows, the villagers wave shovels, scoop up heavy coarse wheat and scatter it into the air in an arc. The golden grains of wheat fell straight down, and the chaff and grass knots floated away with the wind, as if the flowers had dispersed that day. The shovel is waving, and the wheat pile is getting bigger and bigger. The afterglow of the sunset is scattered on it, just like golden mountains. Holding this golden wheat grain, wrinkles are laughing into blooming wildflowers, and happy laughter is floating around. This is the fruit of a bumper harvest, and it is also a sweet joy in the brow.
The sky is high and the clouds are light. Early in the morning, the bran-removed wheat grains were transported to the threshing floor, covering the whole scene thinly, and the early morning sun shone obliquely, like golden wheat grains all over the ground. In the afternoon, naughty sparrows are tired of the heat and are no longer as active and disruptive as at noon. They found a shade on the edge of the cliff and whispered to each other. At the scene, only Huang Tong was pushing a rake to stir the wheat in the hot sun overhead, and the sound of the rake touching the ground was endless. ...
Twilight arrival, the sky is full of stars, the beautiful moonlight is all over the earth, and the hut is particularly bright. Under the locust tree in front of the house, people are in groups of three or five, sipping fragrant green tea, pulling their families, telling interesting stories about good harvest years and laughing from time to time. The puppy lay motionless beside it and listened. This wheat harvest season, this leisurely night talk, is so cheerful and lively, so warm and comfortable
Childhood dream wheat harvest season is an unforgettable memory; Hard-working people water the wheat fields with painstaking efforts and sweat, which is their expectation of entering a bumper harvest and moving towards a well-off society. From sowing to harvesting, all the pains and troubles are floating in the rolling waves of wheat, and all the joys are sprinkled on the golden mountain. The golden wheat wave has undoubtedly become a beautiful landscape in Guanzhong, which has been called Miliangchuan since ancient times.
Whenever I come near the wheat field, I will open the floodgate of memory. Looking at the green wheat seedlings, expecting the wheat waves to roll, people cheered ... Nowadays, with the rapid development of science and technology, harvesters have already replaced manual labor, and there is a magnificent picture of modern agriculture everywhere. However, I have a soft spot for wanderers, and I still see the back of the village man bending over to cut wheat, and the little friends running in the threshing floor to hide and seek, leaning against the wheat pile to see the whimsy of Tianhe.