The mountains are undulating, the scenery flashes outside the car window, and large fields appear in the field of vision. The field is a paradise for flowers and plants, a fertile soil for seeds, and a hotbed for rivers...... The beautiful field, like a beautiful gouache painting, shows the beauty of the four seasons of spring planting, summer growth, autumn harvest and winter storage as the four seasons change.

The fields of spring are full of life, the beginning of all things, busy and joyful. The steps of spring walk lightly, walk in a hurry, walk vigorously, like the morning sun, like the breeze, like the Tu Mi in a hurry. It came, like a revived stream; It is gone, like a pear blossom that blooms in a hurry; It slept like a newborn fawn......

The spring rain is falling, and the fields after the beginning of spring are full of tender green grass buds. The ploughing ox walks through the fields full of flowers and grass, leaving shallow footprints. The stream at the foot of the mountain is flowing with pink flowers. The river meanders over the empty fields, and the occasional duck can be seen chasing the aquatic weeds, bringing life to the silent fields.

Around the Qingming Festival, the weather suddenly warms, the sun shines shallowly, the peach blossoms are in full bloom, the rape flowers bloom yellow fine flowers, and the bees and butterflies are fluttering. The sunny slopes are full of clusters of red roses. The farmer drove the ploughing oxen to work hard in the paddy fields, and a few people stood in the paddy fields, planting rows of neat seedlings. Often for a few days and nights, the whole plain turns green. Children pick wildflowers at the edge of the paddy fields and play with each other, and time passes like water in the short spring days.

The summer fields are warm, passionate, and full of life. The hot sun shines on a green field, the summer wind blows, the green waves are turned, and the rice rises and falls, like a lively and unrestrained poem. The mountains in the distance are undulating, and even the river has become hurried, stirring up waves on the stones and rushing into the distance.

In the summer field, a flock of egrets stands in the paddy field, sometimes flying, sometimes standing, sometimes moving and sometimes quiet, and the silent field becomes full of interest. Swallows hover in the sky, like a gentleman in a tuxedo, sometimes spreading their wings, sometimes gliding. Telephone poles were full of sparrows, chattering about the summer heat.

The autumn fields are joyful, full, and heavy. The golden rice fields, the rice fields turn golden overnight, the autumn wind blows, turning up the rice waves, and the fragrant rice makes people feel refreshed.

The sky is so high and the fields are so empty. Standing in the golden rice field, closing my eyes and looking up at the sky, I suddenly felt that the worries between heaven and earth had dissipated, and even my breathing became light.

The farmer began to harvest the rice, wielding a sharp sickle and working in the fields, sweating profusely in the slightly wet soil, but not tired of it.

Autumn is the harvest season, the melons and fruits are ripe, the rice is abundant, and even the wild chrysanthemums on the edge of the fields are surging, and the heart becomes clear.

In winter, the fields are silent, and the withered yellow rice stubble withers in the water. The swallows had already flown south, and only the cold-defying sparrows were still chirping on the telephone poles. The chestnut trees on the edge of the fields have lost their leaves, and the river is still flowing into the distance. The flowers were gone, the grass was withered, and the fields were quiet, like a play of cleansing lead, and they slept quietly without makeup.

The young man led the oxen slowly through the field path, the sun shining on the mountains, and everything was silent. Occasionally, you can hear the sound of fish jumping out of the water in the pond. Entering the wax moon, there will occasionally be one or two light snowfalls. Snowflakes fell all over the fields, and the empty fields were covered with a thin quilt. Snowy, like a pantomime coming to an end, quiet and tranquil.

"Why do you often have tears in your eyes, because I love this land so much." The fertile fields are beautiful, they are wide, they are silent. There is no singing, no dancing, no flashiness, just silent dedication and heavy mind. The field is a song, and you can't finish singing your silence; The field is a poem, and you can't write about your loneliness; The field is a painting, and you can't paint your charm......

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