In the morning, before dawn, the husband got up quietly. In order to let his wife sleep a little longer, he put on his clothes very quietly, took out the plow in the straw house, caught up with his ox and went into the field. His wife woke up, too She got up and stretched herself, looked at her daughter sleeping in bed, touched her lovely little face lovingly, turned to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, and went to the chimney on the roof. After a while, a delicious meal floated into the air. The wife picked up the broom again, carefully cleaned the front and back of the house, then went to the kitchen to pack delicious food, brought a pot of boiling water and sent it to her husband who was hoeing the ground.
In the field, the husband was sweating profusely, shouting for an old ox to plow the field. Pieces and rows of dirt were turned over and arranged neatly at his feet. Seeing his wife delivering food, he quickly put down the plow and went to the field. The wife wiped her husband's sweat with a towel and told him to eat quickly. The wife looked at her husband's big meal and smiled happily.
At home, the clever daughter got up early. Under the mulberry tree in the shade, she carefully studied the appearance of an adult and planted a cucumber seedling in the dug pit. Her face and clothes were covered with mud, just like a naughty and lovely little monkey.
There is the sound of rubbing hemp rope in the room at night. Under the light, the textile machine rotates evenly, and the hemp rope rolls bigger and bigger on the machine. Beside, the tired daughter has fallen asleep.
This is really a harmonious pastoral picture!
I am Fan Chengda. When I was 75 years old, I returned to my hometown-Shihu.
I came to a small village near the West Lake, and I'm going to take a walk to see the changes in my hometown. Suddenly I looked up and saw a tall plum tree and apricot tree. It's early summer and plums are ripe. Plums are covered with branches, and at first glance they are full of golden yellow, like small lanterns. Those huge apricots bent the branches. Those oranges and apricots are big and round. They look watery and make people drool. I licked my lips and thought, take a bite and the juice will flow out and be sweet to my heart.
When I closed my eyes and enjoyed myself, the breeze blew. I slowly opened my eyes and saw the white face of wheat ears dancing in the breeze. The graceful posture attracted me. Watching Mai Sui's performance, I couldn't help but pick up a brush and start writing poetry. At this time, rape is not far away. It took off one thick coat after another. Actually, it's seeding!
The days in summer are very long, the shadow of the sun is slowly elongated, and the afterglow shines on the fence, but there are no people coming and going and some lively and lovely children playing happily here. Looking into the distance, I saw farmers working hard in the fields, sweating. Even after the early rice harvest in July, they are still ploughing and transplanting rice unremittingly. Dragonflies and butterflies are dancing leisurely on the fence, showing the sun the dance they just learned today.
The beauty of the West Lake really intoxicated me. It's harvest time now, so farmers are very busy and no one goes home to rest. I feel the same way. I really hope they can rest tomorrow and drink and laugh with me.
Four Seasons Pastoral Rewriting (5 selected articles) 3 Hello, my name is Fan Chengda, and I am an idyllic poet Fan Chengda. I just retired from office and live in Shihu.
This morning, I got up and put on my clothes, ready to go for a walk in spring.
It's early summer, and the plums in the village are golden yellow: just as the plums are ripe, they are covered with branches, and at first glance they are all golden yellow, like small lanterns. Those huge apricots bent the branches. Those oranges and apricots are big and round. They look watery and make people drool. I licked my lips and thought, take a bite and the juice will flow out and be sweet to my heart. The wheat field is as white as a rainstorm, but the yellow rape flowers are sparse. Looking at the sparse cauliflower in the distance, I thought, "This indicates a bumper harvest, and the sunset in the countryside illuminates the sky. The days are getting longer and longer, and the shadow of the fence is getting shorter and shorter, but there is no figure on the village road.
Although these have called people home, no one has passed through here. Only dragonflies and butterflies fly around the fence and dance among the flowers. It turns out that people get up early in the morning to do farm work, and the autumn harvest is coming. They have to be busy with the harvest. From morning till night, people keep going home to rest.
Finally, I just want to recite a poem: plums are golden and apricots are fat, wheat is white and cauliflower is sparse, and no one has ever crossed the fence, only dragonflies and butterflies are flying.
Four Seasons Pastoral Miscellaneous Rewriting (Selected 5 Articles) 4 Whoa whoa whoa ... A loud rooster crows in the country yard. The country slowly opened its sleepy eyes and gently lifted the silk quilt as thin as cicada wings. Dewdrops rolled down the dream of clover and splashed colorful sunshine.
The gentle and elegant breeze took away the smoke from the countryside, flew over the roof, flew over the countryside and flew over the fields. The countryside gradually unfolded her beautiful figure in a touching picture scroll.
In the rural fields in early summer, the rice is green, and the rice that has begun to bloom is dotted with yellow, as if thousands of fireflies are chasing and playing on the green grass, and dancing in the wind like yellow butterflies. In the colorful rice waves, an old farmer is holding a hoe and has no time to enjoy the pastoral scenery. He pushed and pulled the hoe back and forth in the field, sometimes stopped to wipe the sweat on his face, and sometimes bent down to help collect rice. Sweat soaked the clothes behind him, but the old farmer's face was always filled with a happy smile.
As night fell, the moonlight sprinkled a silvery white on the earth, putting a silvery gray coat on the small village. Quiet villages bring people mysterious yearning. Frogs in the river kept chirping, one after another, without tiredness, playing cheerful music for this silver night. In the farmhouse, the figure of the peasant woman swayed under the oil lamp. They held the yarn in their left hand and twisted it in their right hand. Soon, thousands of linen yarns were woven in the hands of peasant women like streams. Looking at the hemp rope they rubbed out, a sunny smile appeared on their faces. Into the happy smiling faces of children, the warmth of elders, the praise of husbands, a hemp rope weaves their dreams and hopes and flies out of the window to the fields.
In the afternoon, under the sunny and shady mulberry trees, there were waves of children's frolicking. A group of innocent and lively children also learned to drum their cheeks with a small hoe under the mulberry tree and learned their father's way. They put the seedlings in the pit, and their little palms slammed into the pit. Guamiao cocked his head and smiled. The children surrounded the pit hand in hand.
Children's figures disappeared, children's laughter disappeared, and adults' figures disappeared, but the labor scene of farming, children's innocence, liveliness and happiness, and the harmony of rural life remained in Fan Chengda's poems and people's hearts forever.
I'm Fan Chengda. I'm going to take a walk in the fields this afternoon to find inspiration for my four seasons pastoral excitement.
The breeze is blowing on my face, and it is already early summer. The weather is getting hotter and hotter, and there is obviously more heat flow in the air. The branches of several fruit trees in the distance are bent. When you take a closer look, golden plums grow on the treetops, which makes people drool. The apricot trees on the side are swaying slowly in the wind, and the full fruits are round and full, and they are also very cute when held in their hands, as if they would run out of juice when squeezed. At the edge of the field, the wheat flowers have already opened, and the snow-white wheat flowers are not satisfied with the fields, as if they were a layer of clouds. I believe you will see a pool of lotus flowers soon. Look at the rape flowers on the side, they have already started sowing. Oil and wheat vegetables are dangling in the wind, and clothes are really pitiful.
It was dusk before I knew it. I was just about to go back to my cabin to have a good drink and have a rest, but I found that the road was empty. I looked around in disbelief, only to find that everyone was working in the fields, with shiny sweat on their foreheads. It was really hard to wipe their necks with towels from time to time. It was watching their shadows grow longer, the sun was already hanging in the sky, and a dragonfly was flying around with two butterflies. They give priority to flapping their wings and stop on the fence. Compared with those who work hard in the fields, my life is really easy.
I strolled home and wrote twenty-five poems of Four Seasons in the Country.