Last summer vacation, my father and I returned to our hometown. I harvested rice at my grandmother's house and experienced the hard and happy working life of farmers' uncles.
Every morning at dawn, the adults and children in the village get up. They hurried to the golden rice fields under the sunrise and began to work in a hurry. Suddenly, the "brushing" sound of the sickle cutting the wheat valley, the "buzzing" sound of the pedal stripper, the occasional laughter of adults, the crisp singing of children and the singing of birds converge into a touching symphony. I was intoxicated by the beautiful scenery and music.
Although the cool breeze blows gently, the busy farmers are soon sweating like a pig. They didn't wipe their sweat, but they still worked tirelessly. Children about my age, even younger than me, are picking up ears of rice in the field. I joined them and became their friends.
The sun climbed overhead and roasted the rice fields severely, and everyone was soaked. The adults told the children to go back, but they still insisted on working. A cart of rice from Huang Chengcheng was transported to the threshing floor, and the pole was bent. The voice of "creaking" seems to say, "At noon on the day of weeding, sweat drips down the soil, and every grain of Chinese food is hard"! Under the scorching sun, the farmer's uncle sweated and hoed the ground, lamenting the hard-won grain and warning people to cherish it. Class 4, Grade 5, Sixth Primary School, Jinchuan Company.