A few days later, I had almost as much rice left as a bowl. My mother saw me wasting food like this and decided to take me for a walk in the fields on Sunday. I jumped three feet for joy.
On Sunday, I was about to pull a cart to the field. My mother said, "Honey, the car is broken. We have to walk." Along the way, the fierce sunshine was like fire, which made me feel sultry, and the sweat of beans kept oozing from my forehead.
The field is green, just like a big green blanket. On this green blanket, many people are busy doing farm work, some are raking fields, some are picking seedlings, and some … Look, a farmer's uncle in his thirties over there is throwing seedlings. He took out emerald seedlings from a strange board and scattered them in the field to let them grow on their own. Every time he throws a handful of seedlings, the sweat on his arm flies into the ground with the seedlings. In addition, there is a farmer's mother-in-law weeding. Mother-in-law bent down gently and touched the dirty weeds and sludge with clean hands. Although the weeds have been removed, her clean hands are dirty. The burning sun shone on the back of every farmer, and the sweat soaked every one of their clothes. Every farmer came out of the field covered in mud and smelly sweat.
Suddenly, I saw my 60-year-old grandmother working in the field. She bent down for about five or six minutes, stood up and stretched herself, and kept beating her waist with her hands. The sweat on my head fell to the ground drop by drop before I could wipe it. At this time. I can't help but think of a poem: "It was noon when weeding, and sweat dripped down the soil. Who knows the Chinese food on the plate? Every grain is hard. "
When I got home, I thought about it over and over again. I used to think it was really wrong to waste food like this. I am determined to cherish every hard-won grain.