The loofah in my hometown is old and not delicious. The remaining five or six loofahs were still hanging under the loofah shed, dry and falling. Ask the mother. Why not pick them up? Mother said: It has not been dried yet. I saw that the skin of these old loofahs was wrinkled, but they were still green, and they really did not feel like they were about to dry in the sun. My mother looked at me and said, "Don't worry, this loofah grew up and relied on the sun when I was a child, and I still rely on the sun when I am old."

What to do in the sun?

That's not a big question. When I was a child, the dirty thing we used to wipe our bodies in the bath was dried in the sun, peeled off, and removed the loofah strips. This thing is easy to use, durable, does not hurt the skin, but it is easy to remove dirt, and my parents still like to use it in the bath.

I admire from the bottom of my heart that loofahs are eaten to clear the lungs and moisten their throats, and in the end, they are so used by others. The reason for admiration is: loofah can be sacrificed for others to this point, and it is difficult to do this for others, because it is difficult, so there are very few, so naturally few people will see such people in life.

Now the loofah has not been dried, but the shed of the loofah is already crowded with lentil stalks and lentil leaves.

Like the loofah, the lentil is a vine plant, and wherever the loofah can climb, it climbs up, leaving few gaps. But lentils are a little different from loofahs, and when the lentils have climbed up to the top of the shed, they quickly climb over to the top of the shed, and at last they cover the roof, and they never hang their stems under the shed.

Lentils rely on the stems to climb, and its stems are mostly red, a little green, and some are red and green, which is very interesting. Leaves grow on the stem, and support the leaves, and the leaves are connected to the leaves, the leaves are full of veins, the leaves are growing steadily and vigorously on the top of the roof, the leaves are round, very tender, and the pieces are open upwards to form a swaying green, swaggering, silently showing us the green mind, and also revealing to us a huge life force.

For lentils to produce pods, they must first bloom well. Lentils bloom in a particularly large number of flowers. The flower looks a bit like those half-sized butterflies, and the color is also like the color of a butterfly. These flowers are clustered on the top, bottom, and left and right of the leaves. After meditating and contemplating, I felt that there were leaves in the flowers, and there were flowers in the leaves, and I couldn't tell the difference. The breeze swept by, and the bean leaves shook gently, making a sighing sound, like a dialogue between a leaf and a flower. Under the shed, we could also hear their small crashing sounds, which were like the murmurs of children, soft and glutinous.

Sometimes, some bees fly on the leaves, and the bees see the flowers, buzz and stop on the flowers, sometimes they suck the juice from the flowers with their thorns, and sometimes they will take the pollen from the flowers. After the bees fly away, the flowers begin to open outwards and begin to smell incense. At that time, if you sniff your nose, you will definitely be able to smell a faint smell of grass and the quiet smell of flowers in the lentil shed, which is very comfortable, very quiet, and very precious.

Lentils bear flowers and pods on the other. The pods of lentils grow in clumps, and they are crammed together. The pods are long and short, thick and thin, straight and curved. The beans inside the pods are of different sizes, and the formed ones are round. The colors are also different, most of the molded ones are purple red, rare ones are sauce red, and some are green jade and light lavender. They all hang on the position of the flowers, some on the top, some on the bottom, never leave this place to grow the pods blindly, the pods know the source and destination of their lives, even if they grow up, they still snuggle up to the flowers and never abandon them.

From July to October, until the first days of autumn frost, the lentils will continue to bloom and bear pods. The first pods have just been picked in our basket, and in the bowl, another batch of new pods has grown and matured. Growing silently day and night, giving every day, I really don't know how much energy there is in its slender stems to deliver such a steady stream of elixir to the pods.

One day, the leaves of the lentil turned yellow, but there were still green pods hanging from its body, which was the last gift of the lentil to mankind. The old pods, which are intentionally left behind, begin to dry up in the cold wind under the sun, and finally become as hard as a stone.

The hard stone pods, as long as they are put in a little water and soaked in water for an overnight, can become another delicacy on our table tomorrow.

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