Ding Limei’s father’s vegetable garden is as follows:
My father described his vegetable garden to me on the phone: spinach, garlic, leeks, radish, Chinese cabbage, coriander, lettuce...what’s in it They have grown, and there are plenty of fruits and vegetables you like to eat, so just wait and eat them.
In front of my eyes, a vegetable garden like this appeared: the greenery inside was intertwined, with dark green and light green, absorbing the sun, rain and dew. It's really beautiful.
Now I have some doubts. Although my father is a farmer, he does menial work, digging rivers and digging fields, and he is very good at it. But growing fruits and vegetables is a delicate job, like embroidery, which requires carefulness. For decades, my mother did it, and my father didn't know how to do it at all.
Before I could express my doubts, my father said proudly over there, what’s so difficult about growing vegetables? I can learn it as soon as I can. I know you like to eat these, so I opened a big vegetable garden.
Since my mother’s rheumatoid disease has become increasingly severe, my father has learned to do many things, such as cooking and washing. My eyes can't help but feel sore when I think of my nearly seventy-year-old father, clumsy on the cooking table. But my father didn't care. He said cheerfully, "When you come back, I will go to the vegetable garden to pick vegetables and fry them for you to eat. They will be fresh and fresh for you to eat if you like them."
My father’s vegetable garden is flourishing day by day in my father’s descriptions. He said that there were too many green peppers to eat, lentils were all over the place, cucumbers had many buds, and the radishes were ready to eat... There were always fresh vegetables on my dining table, green and clear. Some were sent by my father himself, and some were brought by his father. My father said that there are too many pesticides on vegetables on the market. You should buy less and eat them. It is better to eat what you bring at home.
Sometimes, my father brings too many vegetables for me to eat, so I give them to my neighbors. Even so, my father still asked on the phone if it was enough to eat? Not enough, I have plenty in my vegetable garden. It was as if he had a well there that could spurt out vegetables in a steady stream.
Just imagine my father’s vegetable garden. The fruits and vegetables in it are growing happily, and each row is lively.
When I got the chance, the first thing I did when I returned home was to go straight to my father’s vegetable garden. My mother was sitting at the door of the courtyard laughing. My mother said, "Where does your father have a vegetable garden? It took him more than half a year to learn how to grow vegetables. He is stupid."
I wonder, where did the vegetables my dad gave me come from?
My mother said that it was your father who helped us here. I couldn't grow vegetables, and he couldn't grow vegetables. He was afraid that you would have no vegetables to eat, so he went to work in other people's fields. They gave him some fruits and vegetables that were growing in exchange for his wages.
Shocked. Looking back, I saw my father standing not far away, smiling sheepishly at me. He was ashamed that his "lie" had been exposed. But he refused to admit defeat, beckoned me over, and said, don't listen to your mother's nonsense, I can not only grow vegetables, I also know how to grow coriander.
He led me to the back of the house, where there was a new piece of land. In the ground, some small green buds had sprouted from the soil and were poking their heads. My father pointed to the sprouts and told me that these were green vegetables and that were coriander. I also planted some peas. Look, how good it looks.
This place will soon become a vegetable garden. It will definitely be different when you come home to see it next time, my father said. His hand vigorously drew a semicircle in mid-air.
I nodded. I said remember to bring me some green vegetables, coriander, and peas when you arrive. I like to eat.