In a big city with many tall buildings, it is always rare to see a piece of land. In our small city, the existence of land has also become scarce.
One day, I happened to see a small piece of land not far away, lying quietly next to a short smashed step. The same dish is planted neatly on it, but I can't name it.
Spring has come, the earth has become full of vitality, and green shoots have emerged and grown with the rhythm of hope. In the afternoon sunshine, you can often see an old man with silver hair and stumbling. He works in the field with a kettle or shovel in his hand, as serious as a primary school student. Passing cars and naughty children will inevitably destroy the hard work of the old people, so the old people put fences on them.
The fence is very simple, but it is just to enclose the vegetable fields with slender wooden sticks and wire. The old man weaves the fence with great care, but his rough and old fingers deftly shuttle between several wooden sticks and wire, as if weaving a unique fantasy world. He never looked up, whether it was the laughter of the children on the side, the traffic coming and going on the road, or the whispering of birds on the branches beside him. At this moment, the old man is completely immersed in his work, and even the white clouds in the sky seem to have stopped and are attracted by the old man's concentration. When I looked at it again the next day, a simple and exquisite fence appeared on the vegetable field, just like an alternative scenery in the city, which attracted countless people. That fence contains the care and care of the elderly and is the shadow of the elderly to protect vegetables. The vegetables in the field, like the children of the elderly, thrive in the sunshine and rain, and the green is more and more flourishing in the hearts of the elderly.