Grandma's pastoral poems

? My grandmother was born in the countryside, and she has always had an indescribable tenderness for farming, and she is simply silent and doesn't like being short with her neighbors. Therefore, even if she later moved into a high-grade residential area with her uncle, she couldn't stand the square and angular boredom in the commercial house. So I dug a small vegetable garden in the open space next to the community. Although the area is small, there are many categories. Chinese kale germinated in plum rain, asparagus germinated in summer, beans germinated in autumn and radish germinated in winter. Grandma always knows when to plant suitable fruits and vegetables. So in a small vegetable garden, the four seasons are always full of vitality.

? If I go to her house in my spare time, she will naturally be happy, so she will drag me to accompany her to the vegetable garden to pick some fresh fruits and vegetables for dinner. A flat land to be developed is surrounded by rocky weeds, but her small vegetable garden looks neat and bright from a distance. Less than two square meters of soil, the closer you get, the more amazing you get. There are all kinds of fruits and vegetables around, green beans grow gratifying, and tomatoes are lovely. She even set up a shed on the spot, and the loofah falling from the shed was full, as if it were going to crack at any time, and the small vegetable garden was bright under the sunlight. Grandma bent down to pick beans, and suddenly a bee flew out of the dense branches and flew around. I stood there with a vegetable basket, thinking that if this beautiful day sets off the small vegetable garden like an idyll, then the bees we didn't mean to disturb must be the most appropriate rhyme.

? Grandma has never been affected, and her cooking is as clean as hers. There are no superfluous decorations and fancy dishes. Those watery fruits and vegetables are like shy little girls. After a little stir-frying, put it on a plate and fall into a delicate peasant girl. Green leaves and white garlic are extremely pleasing.

? Only in grandma can you vaguely see the connection between life and land. At dusk, life is like a delicate seedling. Farmers step barefoot in the mud and plant this hope with almost pious feelings. With water, the years are full of hope in the season and are wasted in an orderly way.