Uneasy wild mushrooms, unable to bear loneliness, quietly leaned out of the mountain soil, and at that time there were special delicacies on the table, and some were brought to the city from the mountains, so there were more family ties in the country on the table in the city.
Not far away, rows of houses are holding green crops, and the white clouds on that day are crowned overhead, forming a dynamic picture.
The pond is quiet. What is quieter is the water in the pond. Fish's heart is always transparent, floating up and sinking down. Lotus root sticks its roots into the mud, trying to get close to the secrets deep in the earth through some necessary turning points.
The footprints of the old cow are printed on the paper on the earth, just like flowers, which bloom brilliantly in spring; Rusty plowshare rubs itself in the soil in the field, and the earth becomes dignified and vague in poetry, with an empty echo.
Strolling on the path between rural neighbors, the hard work of farmers in the fields, the family happiness under the wisteria in front of the door, the warmth of chatting between villages, the leisurely fishing by the pond, not deeply moved by the quiet life in this spring, could not help but bow their heads and raise their eyebrows and laugh out loud.