Place transplanting prose essay

The vernal equinox is here, and spring is in full swing. At times like this in previous years, the thing our farmers look forward to most is transplanting rice seedlings.

The rice fields had been prepared a few days ago. They were a row of fields, like a bright mirror, and were neatly arranged by the farmers. The clear paddy fields reflect the blue sky and white clouds, giving it a pastoral scenery that is pleasing to the eye, and also has a gentle and peaceful style. A woman from the water town, wearing a square scarf on her head and a floral blouse, carrying a basket on her back, walked lightly to the head of the field. They smoothed their exposed hair, rolled up their embroidered trousers, and stepped lightly into the rice fields. A cool feeling immediately spread throughout their bodies from the soles of their feet. At this time, the men wearing raincoats and hats were already walking on the field ridge carrying seedlings, just like the ladies in the Dream of Red Mansions carrying dowries and gifts when they get married. The seedlings are all tied into small handfuls with straw. They are light and green. If you flick them hard, they will slide steadily to the paddy field and never fall apart. The girls and wives also straightened the seedling ropes, set up their positions, broke open the seedlings, and planted them.

The sun is like a red-hot discus, burning so hard that people can’t open their eyes. They bent over, holding the seedlings in their hands, and hurried along the rope to transplant them. The planted seedlings are stretched horizontally and vertically, and you can see the greenery waving in the wind from a distance. They moved the seedlings with ease with their hands and feet. Occasionally they gazed at the beautiful faces in the water and couldn't help but smile. They exposed a pink-white calf like a lotus root, slightly tilted their plump buttocks, and swung their arms rhythmically. It constitutes an ancient and poetic picture of labor.

At this time, the girl next door, Xiaocui, screamed. It turned out that a locust had bitten her ankle. A simple and honest farmer rushed over and pinched off the locust, which made everyone laugh. I don’t know whose daughter-in-law opened her silver voice and sang a charming Yangko: "The sound of cuckoo makes people busy, my brother is plowing the field and my sister is planting rice seedlings. Thousands of waves are rising on the plowshare, and the rice seedlings are embroidered on the earth in thousands of layers - oh!" The men immediately roared at the top of their lungs, and the rough singing frightened the sparrows at the head of the field to drop a long string of sweet local dialects and fly to the sage bushes in the distance.

At noon, there were old people and children delivering meals on the dike. They carried baskets on their backs, humming along the way, followed by a naughty little flower dog. Everyone greeted each other, climbed to the ridge of the field, squatted or sat, eating ordinary local vegetables, and occasionally cracked out a joke or two, making everyone laugh and spit out their rice. After eating and laughing enough, everyone rolled up their pants and went to the fields to plant rice. The little flower dog on the dike followed its owner and played a series of vivid notes.

They were busy until the smoke from the kitchen smoke curled up in the distance. After planting the last row of seedlings, they stood on the ridge of the field and stared at the rows of seedlings, feeling a sense of comfort and joy after labor in their hearts. The gentle breeze passed by the wet seedlings, and the seedlings danced lightly, interpreting the infinite gratitude in the heart.

On the day of transplanting rice seedlings, the land is becoming more and more plump like a pregnant daughter-in-law. The countryside is filled with romantic style and classical poetry. The fields of rice seedlings and gleaming green make the countryside extraordinarily beautiful.