The rape has all been picked up, and all that remains on the ridges of the field is the roots of the rape.

The water, coming from the distant crooked ditch, like a snake, roamed to the small ditch on the edge of the furrow, and the ditch was full of water, and overflowed the furrow, and the furrow slowly moistened, and the field was full of water. If you look closely, the dirt is bubbling and bubbling, and the bones of the soil on the side of the rape root are collapsing. The earthworms, large and small, that were hiding under the rapeseed roots, in the soil on the edge of the furrows, all came out of the ground, and they climbed on top of the rapeseed roots, like young snakes, climbing to the top of the roots, bending, curling, and waiting; Those thick and long earthworms used their soft bodies to swim up the ridges one by one.

Ducks are coming, countless ducks, different sizes, different colors. They came in pairs, densely packed, roaring and swaying into the vegetable patch; They are covered in muddy water, you chase me, rampage, the sound of croaking resounded through the field, chopstick-like long earthworms are held in their mouths one by one, their heads and necks stretch and shrink, shrink and stretch, very hard, very hard, very proud. This hour is the day of the feast, the duck has been waiting for such a day for a long time, when such a day comes, it is the stomach that fills the stomach, and the happy mood is the mood.

Those who stood on the shore of the field suddenly fell silent, they stood there for a long time, staring at the rape field that had been harvested by themselves, looking at the water, at the ducks, and at the earthworms crawling on the roots, and their eyes were full of pity and helplessness. The rape has been picked on the site, and the next step is the process of oiling, and the land where the rape is planted does not seem to be tired, does not rest, and does not even have time to take a nap.

It doesn't matter if the rape grows in the land turns yellow, at the end of its life, and another patch of green grows on the land, which is the green of the rice seedlings. It's also unclear, there are earthworms under the roots, but the most in the seedlings are frogs, and the frogs are singing in unison at the edge of the rice field, but people want to grow rice, and after a period of time they have to cut the rice, pick the rice, and pick all the rice to the warehouse, the field will begin to be silent for a short time. At this time, I thought: In the four seasons of the year, the land is planted with rape and rice, what will be planted after the rice is harvested?

I don't need to think about what to plant, the land knows by itself.

I've been walking around the land and I've been working on it. Many years ago, I was proud of the land and ashamed of my ignorance. I thought at that time: the land is black, I will be suspicious, the land is obscure, and I am obscure. Look at raperoot, think of rape flowers, see rapeseed; When I see the seedlings, I think of the rice, I think of the ears of rice, and I think of the white rice in the bowl, and I always feel that there is no land without me, but without me, the land still exists, and it is still full of abundant crops.

I have not done such work for many years, such as picking rape and transplanting rice, and picking rice, as well as threshing, and the suffering like fighting on the battlefield has long disappeared, and the suffering has slowly faded away. Occasionally go home, take a look at the land, and face the land in front of me, I really don't dare to talk to it, but I sigh infinitely in my heart: what the land grows and what it looks like, can I do it? I asked myself: When will I be able to have a heart like the land like the field?