An article that uses metaphors to describe people.

When the apricots are ripe, they are catching up with the rural wheat harvest. One day after the wheat harvest, I took time to carry a stick with a basket on it and climb the South Mountain.

I met my neighbor's second aunt on the way. When my second aunt saw me picking apricots, she told me, "I've looked everywhere, but there is Xinger on the tree in the second ravine south of the mountain ridge, but the apricots are green and small, and they are not delicious!" Say that finish, two aunts went down the hill.

I climbed the mountain ridge and saw the tree from a distance. It is the only apricot tree in that ravine. When I got closer, I saw the semi-red apricots in the green leaves on the tree, which were crowded with branches in strings. With a breeze, apricot trees shook their branches and leaves, as if greeting me.

This is an old apricot tree, which grows beside the rocks lacking soil and water at the bottom of the ditch. Its trunk is tall, curved and thick, scarred. Obviously, it has gone through many vicissitudes. I put a stick around my waist and climbed up the tree. Sitting on the thick branch, I can see more clearly: on the branches, there is a round apricot hanging from each leaf nest. Most apricots have "yin and yang faces"-one side is green and yellow, and the other side is yellow and red; He is not small, and everyone looks like a small apple. Looking at these apricots with bunches of branches among the green leaves, I can't figure out whether they are like pearls or precious stones, or like jadeite or agate. Squeeze one and look, alas, the golden pulp is soaked in juice and put in your mouth, sour, sweet and refreshing.

when I looked up, I accidentally found a stone stuck between two branches. Oh! I got it all: My second aunt said that the apricot was green and small, because the tree was too high. She couldn't see the apricots knotted on it, so she only picked some small ones below. She can't climb the tree, she can't reach it, and she can't hit it with a stone. Obviously, she really wronged this old apricot tree.

Looking at the fruit within reach of the tree and looking down at this weather-beaten old apricot tree, a feeling of admiration arises spontaneously. Old apricot tree, old apricot tree, you are not afraid of loneliness, difficulties and hardships, and you are rooted in this deep mountain rock alone, old and enduring. How many apricots do you bear for people year after year? But you want nothing from people. When you are wronged or encounter cold eyes and indecent assault, your heels are still so firm, and your mind is still so open and selfless. What a respectable old apricot tree! I gently removed the stone and pulled out the wooden stick around my waist, but I refused to fight any more, for fear of damaging the branches and leaves of the old tree and hurting its body and mind by hitting Xinger. So, I got off the tree, put a basket on it, climbed up the tree, sat in the arms of the old apricot tree, picked apricots to my heart's content, and enjoyed the fruits of its dedication.