The land in my hometown is inlaid with green fields. There are many hardworking farmers' uncles in the fields: some are transplanting rice seedlings, and rows of neatly inserted seedlings in the rice fields are defending their homes like many soldiers; Some farmers' uncles pull plows with fat cows, and Niu Jiao flutters in the fields; Some farmers' uncles are watering their hard-cultivated crystal seedlings, hoping that they will contribute mature fruit food to farmers as soon as possible. A stream flows gently through the field and irrigates it. There are ducklings swimming in the stream, and many children playing on the water. Happy laughter is constantly rippling on the water. The clear stream keeps playing the unique music of this country. ...
The towering mountains near the village are covered with lush forests and green trees. These trees are like many soldiers protecting their homes. Those mountains are really green, like a flawless jade; That mountain is really strange, like bamboo shoots, like camels, like cuckolds; That mountain is really high. It seems to reach the sky. Tall mountains stand tenaciously on the edge of the village.
On the green fields, rows of seedlings are dancing in the breeze. Tintin's winter stream flows quietly beside the fields, while the villages that stand by are clinging to the mountains. The scenery in my hometown presents a continuous picture.
This is my hometown, a picturesque place.