Father has two "children"
One is me and the other is
It is a small vegetable garden in front of the house
Before becoming a father
It's hard for me to understand this sentence
◎ Video: Gong Juwei
The Wind of May, still the same as in memory, was particularly restless.
Back in my hometown after a long absence, in addition to the layers of greenery, the appearance of the village has not changed at all. Especially the small vegetable garden in front of the house, one row after another, the layers are clear, it should be that the father has just watered, and the vegetable leaves are still condensed with water droplets.
From the buds breaking the soil to the blossoming and fruiting, this small vegetable garden accompanied my growth and continued to accompany my parents after I left home to study.
Some people say that the small vegetable garden at the door of the house is the father's eternal child, who can give and comfort each other; others say that the small vegetable garden at the door of the house is the mother's song, and every corner has the traces of their years.
After reading the small vegetable garden that occupies most of their parents' time, they can also understand their love and heart.
When we grow up, we leave our hometown and run to the four directions, while pursuing poetry, ideals and distant places, we must not forget the small vegetable garden at home.
After walking a long way, do you remember the road where your parents walked through the fields hand in hand; after eating too many dishes, do you remember the coarse tea and light rice on the childhood dinner table?
No matter how beautiful the cuisine, it is better than the parents' small vegetable garden; eating all the mountains and treasures and seafood is not comparable to the homely meals made by the parents.
There is no magnificence of the taste of mountains and seas, but it can always warm us to the bottom of our hearts. Home is our lifelong hunger.
Art often requires only the simplest way to grade colors.
Clear water, red tiles, green areas, "landscape paintings" that have been dyed by nature are all in sight, and the most pleasant scenery is hidden in the unremarkable countryside.
Most of the leisure time of my parents is fiddling with the vegetables and fruits in the vegetable garden.
The open space behind the front of the house is surrounded by stones, and the vegetable garden is built, and the large stones are piled up layer by layer, after wind and rain, the vicissitudes are thick.
A shovel of soil is turned over, and "the wind brings some freshly turned earthy smell, mixed with the smell of grass, and the fragrance of various flowers, brewing in the slightly moist air."
Father stood on the soft and fluffy dirt, squinting at the old eyes, and with those thin hands with thick green tendons, he held the bucket in one hand and the water scoop in the other, and evenly spilled the water mixed with fertilizer on the soil.
The mother rummaged through the seeds, cut the seals, shook them in the palm of her hand, and carefully buried them in the soil, along with hope and joy, and sowed them in the vegetable garden.
A face of happiness, a face full of expectation.
Vegetables love water and need to be watered.
A pipe passes through the window, connects to the tap, and waters the small vegetable garden to make the water fresh.
From the buds breaking the soil, the vines climbing the branches, to the flowering and fruiting, the parents' little efforts, careful care, so that every day has new expectations.
Tired of being busy in the vegetable garden, throwing tools aside, sitting on the floor, chatting about home cooking, looking at the carefully planned vegetable garden, imagining the joy of the harvest.
At a glance, the vegetable leaves gently sway with the wind, the emerald cucumbers fall on the vine branches, the delicate little tomatoes shine in the sun, and the small vegetable garden in the field of vision sets off the spotless small village.
The vegetable garden is full of flowers throughout the year, a little quieter in winter, and bustling in spring, summer and autumn.
Parents could be seen in the vegetable garden at four o'clock, and the rows were clearly divided, there were no weeds, and they were clean and sharp. The ground is strange and long, which is easy to walk.
Plant melons, plant beans, plant thoughts.
The industrious parents have been running all their lives, and when it comes to enjoying their old age, they choose rough tea and light meals, and they are content with self-sufficiency. Thrifty housekeeping gets the best annotations on them. The small vegetable garden has become the sustenance of parents' feelings.
Parents' vegetable gardens never seem to lack vegetables that their children and grandchildren like to eat. They always find ways to grow vegetables that children like to eat in their small vegetable garden. The vegetable garden is small and complete.
The appearance of parents running around in the years will eventually be gifted by the earth. Every holiday, there will always be a phone call: the food in the courtyard is time to pick again, do you come back?
Whenever they know that they will go home, their parents will definitely go to the vegetable garden early to pick the vegetables, peel off the rotten stems and leaves, and clean up neatly. By the time they got home, the parents had already divided the dishes into portions and laid them on the ground, just waiting for the children to be brought back to the city.
A piece is a heavy concern; a piece, it is all a love that concerns the stomach; a part, it is an unspeakable concern... Attachment and waiting, hope and reunion, longing and nostalgia, all in this meal and vegetable.
Later, the vegetable garden grew larger and larger, and the thoughts became deeper and deeper.
The small vegetable garden has the hard work of parents, the longing and warmth of home, and the strong feelings of hometown.
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Producer: Yin Hongjun
Chief Editor on Duty: Wang Lan
Review: Sun Meiling
Curator/Photo: Liu Bin
Video: Gong Juwei
Text: Wang Xin
Editor: Zhou Zongyue Wang Xin
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