The village is strewn at random, and it is so familiar to hear the cries of chickens and dogs from time to time; On the banks of the river, the grass is lush, and it is so quiet to watch the newborn goslings and ducklings leisurely foraging on both sides of the river.
The spring rain is falling sparsely, just like wisps of silver fluttering in front of your eyes. The seedlings grow well, and the height is almost equal to the water surface. The green seedlings are uniform, as if they had been trimmed with scissors.
The customs and scenery here are just like Hunan. After Grain Rain, plowshares were turned over everywhere.