The afternoon sun shone softly on a little lamb. It lazily faced its mother and bleated a few times. The small village not far away is reflected quietly in the river, vaguely like a mirage, giving people endless reverie... The Daqingshan Mountain not far away, with a touch of red sunset on the chest, is woven with beauty village. Look! Whose house is that wisp of smoke? Wandering up from the roof, a gust of wind blows away the shape of the smoke rising up. The shape is like a random splash of ink, as light as a wisp of white gauze casually spread by Chang'e, lingering poetically over the village. The air was suddenly filled with the light natural aroma of firewood. On the small road at the end of the village, an old farmer puffed his pipe, rolled up his trousers, and returned home dressed in the afterglow. Against the background of the smoke, the elderly woman stood waiting outside the gate with a cane, waiting for her naughty grandson to come home for dinner.
——Inscription
If the countryside is a book, then the smoke is a poem; a poem of the soul. This poem interprets a countryside, all its thinness, richness, and fullness. But today's countryside is sad and lonely. Young students have grown their wings in the village, staying away from home, pursuing their dreams, and never coming back. Middle-aged people drag their families and carry heavy luggage, start under the old locust tree that has guarded the village for hundreds of years, and rush to distant and unfamiliar cities full of longing to find their ideal world. Those monotonous and natural pastoral memories are all integrated into their busy days. However, the village is generous. Every evening when the sun sets, the village will use lonely cooking smoke to express endless concern to the wanderers in the distance...
The small river still lies quietly beside the village and flows gurglingly. While sitting, I would occasionally hear one or two crows of chickens. The barren field at the head of the village was overgrown with weeds. The only old scalper in the village did not know spring, summer, autumn and winter, nor sorrow and sorrow. shouted. This rich voice fell into a lotus pond, causing the village to fall into despair and confusion again. Because next to the village, I don’t know when; there was a forest of factories and scattered buildings. With the development of the times, those villages that were evacuated in childhood memories. Slowly it will be transformed into an integrated urban and rural community. But there are still some older people who still remember the narrow roads in their hometown, the cattle and sheep pouring out like a floodgate, the villages with ink paintings under the misty rain, and the local vegetables floating in the kitchen. The aroma, and the melody of the clanking spatulas, echoed through the village. Those unknown birds stood on the branches and chirped and sang non-stop. There were shepherd boys riding on the backs of cows returning home late at night. Their clear voices jingled and jumped happily on the country roads. This natural and simple picture will be fixed in their memory forever.
We humans are born from nature, so everyone is born to like everything in nature. The countryside is the most appropriate place for "Man and Nature". There are grasses and wild flowers we like there. There is also the fresh air that we can’t not enjoy in the city. If you come to the countryside, your whole body will be like a loose spring, relaxed and comfortable, and you will have the enjoyment of returning to nature. In the countryside, you can pick the greenest fruits with your own hands. In the countryside, you can pick up a fishing rod and make time slow down. You can watch the romantic butterflies flying, or you can shout loudly like a child! Watch the dogtail grass swaying in the wind, and watch the cows lower their heads and gnaw the green grass on the roadside.
Oh, the countryside, everything about you is so simple and natural, how can you not make people yearn for it...