I asked for leave to go home and farm. Please tell me if I am a good boy.

The golden wind is refreshing and the sweet-scented osmanthus is fragrant. Farmers have no time to appreciate the beauty and beauty of nature. The golden millet is ripe. Autumn is the harvest season for farmers.

My ancestors were farmers.

When I was a child, when I was busy with farming, the children in the village would go to the fields to help adults. My parents were still in good health at that time. I am a nerd and not handsome. Learn to transplant rice seedlings. The seedlings are planted in the fields in a patchwork way. Either the seedlings are planted too thinly or the row spacing is too large. My sisters seem to be born to do farm work, leaving me far behind. No, actually, I'm in front of them. Mom said I looked like I was catching insects. Let me pick the rice. My mother specially bundled rice into small bundles to take care of me. My shoulder was hurt by the heavy rice, so I had to support the pole with my hands, and my legs were still shaking. Look at big sister again. She walked like a gust of wind with rice on her back. Rice danced gracefully on her shoulders. I don't believe it. By fighting, my elder sister is my loser. Every time she started, but every time I beat her out of the water, crying for her father and shouting for her mother.

Doing farm work and reading books are two different things: I have to read books several times when I don't understand them, but this farm work just won't listen to me. Oh, why is the burden on this rice shoulder as heavy as a mountain? And this leg is too weak to move a step! "Plop" rang and I fell to the ground! That's great, the cooked millet fell to the ground by this! When my father saw it, he scolded sadly: "This won't work, and that won't work either! You are so stupid! " He only knows that he loves Xiaomi but doesn't love me! And scold me! How can I stand this tone? Tears swirled in my eyes: I am smart in reading! Which year is not a "three good students"? My father shouted at me, "Cry! Cry! Cry! Cry! Have the ability to test it for me! " Call me stupid? I just want to fight for breath! A few years later, I was admitted to a technical secondary school as I wished (in the 1980s, technical secondary schools were still very popular, and at least I could carry the "iron rice bowl" envied by rural children).

You don't have to face the loess to do farm work like your parents. Everyone says that I am "a fool is blessed with a fool". I also became the pride of my parents. Is this because of father's provocation? Maybe. I have lofty ideals and ambitions since I was a child. Because of poverty, I study very hard and pay unimaginable hardships and sweat.

I remember that in the year of the senior high school entrance examination, our whole family was looking forward to the notice that could change our destiny and made the worst guess: would it be recorded? The family was working in the field when they received the notice. We rejoiced and completely forgot our fatigue. My father excitedly said to me, "Wazi, from today on, I don't want you to do farm work in the fields. You can cook and wash clothes at home." The sun is too hot, you are tanned, and people in the city will say you are a hillbilly. "

Cooking and washing clothes is the lightest job, which eliminates the pain of shouldering, and it is also a special care for me by my parents. Washing clothes is better, just rubbing clothes a few times, but cooking is not so easy. Electric cookers and gas stoves are very common now, but there was no electricity at that time. How can there be such a luxury? Straw is burned in rural areas, but grass is not. After dinner, the stove is full of ash. Put a handful of grass in the stove and scoop it in the pot a few times with a spatula. The fire in the stove will be gone and the grass will be nutritious. Hey! Trouble! Easier said than done!

I am a teenager, cooking for the first time! This annual dinner will not be ready until 10: 30. My family went to work in the fields before dawn. Doing farm work consumes physical strength. You must be flustered by hunger, right? Look at my masterpiece again: the rice in the pot is divided into three layers, the top layer is like porridge, the middle layer is sandwiched with children, and the layer near the bottom of the pot is paste. I am embarrassed to say the color and taste of the dish. The family is tired and hungry, and they have to eat no matter how bad they are.

Farming is too tiring and bitter, and the income is low. Human feelings often make families unable to make ends meet and can only solve the problem of food and clothing. Brothers and sisters dropped out of school and went out to work. Time and tide wait for no man, my father's back is hunched, my mother's temples are stained with frost, and her physical strength is not as good as before. I am the child closest to my parents. During the busy farming season, I will take time to go home and help my parents. Mom said I helped her a lot by cooking and washing clothes! Don't laugh at me, I've been learning to cook for a long time!

Sometimes I go to the fields-although my mother won't let me go. I am a filial daughter in the eyes of my parents. Mother won't let me transplant rice. I haven't transplanted rice for twenty years. I have long forgotten. I also used a sickle to cut grain once or twice, but I think my mother is too tired to cut it alone, so she wants to leave.

The sun is shining, and I'm sweating like rain. After cutting for a while, I poured well water into my mouth until I burped, but I never quenched my thirst. I wish I could cut more so that my mother wouldn't be so tired. How can I get ultraviolet rays? It's funny to think of some MM, but it's good to have an umbrella. It has to be the kind that can prevent purple lines, and what sunscreen to wear. Look how brave I am! It is best that a cloud can float in the sky, blocking the sinister sun and giving me a shade.

"Holding the grain and holding the child" (not all harvesters in rural areas are used, and some fields are not cut into pieces, so they have to be cut by hand. After cutting the rice, drying it in the ground for a day or two, and then putting the rice together, this is my "specialty" (I am only proficient in "this trip" when doing farm work). It's simple. As long as you are not afraid of tanning and suffering, anyone can. It's just a matter of endurance. Squat into a big pile repeatedly, then hug, and mother will bundle the rice into bundles. I hold it, my mother ties it, and sometimes I help hold it. Father is responsible for picking the road and pulling it back with a tractor. When the weather is fine, break them into particles.

Don't think that this is an easy job, and the physical strength consumed is the same. Sometimes hands, arms and legs are scarred by straw. After a long time, my back aches and pains. I really want to sit on the ground and not get up No, we are in a hurry. This vast field is waiting for us. In addition, it is common for God to play a little temper. Maybe when it is unhappy, sprinkle a few drops of clear tears, and Xiaomi will not be destroyed in the ground. When the harvest season comes, I hope God will never change his face, even if he tannes my face! The hotter the sun, the better. It can dry my rice. I'm really not cut out to be a farmer. I am used to sitting on a bench in a shady room. Lying down at night, my muscles ache all over, like falling apart.

They planted five acres of farmland. What do they eat without farming? Harvest is their best hope. A year's expenses depend on these few acres of thin land. When transplanting rice the year before last, my mother told me: Your father is ill and can't move. This is the last year of farming. If the harvest is good, these grains can be sold for more than 4 thousand yuan.

Who knows that the year before last was a disaster year, and it seldom rained for several months; When catching up with the germination of millet, I met rice planthopper. Rice planthopper sucks the roots of rice under it. Without the transport of nutrients, rice grows like grass and has no long grains on it. The hard work of the past will be ruined! My parents sprayed pesticides in the hot sun of 40 degrees overhead. Mom divides the rice by hand, which makes it easier to spray medicine. The medicine should be sprayed on the bottom of rice roots, but not once, and then sprayed for the second and third time ... rice planthoppers were once rampant and extremely vital. People sometimes die of poisoning, but they are safe and sound. Due to the timely spraying of potions, the grain output of my family decreased slightly.

The mature rice in the field bent down, just like my father's old back. Father's illness leads to muscle weakness, and his hands and feet tremble when he exerts a little force. He wasn't like this a few years ago! One or two hundred catties is a cinch, but now, his hands are helpless! Walking can't wait to take three steps back. Mother's health in recent years is also much worse than before.

Intellectuals rely on mental labor, while farmers rely on manual labor. Without strength, you lose the capital for farming. When transplanting rice, you should pick it in the field, right? Even if you use a harvester to cut millet, does anyone have to bring it back? It will take two or three days to get a good price. If my brother-in-law hadn't sent the children back to school the year before last, my parents would have been exhausted. My brother-in-law hasn't done farm work for many years, and he can't stand the hardship, but at least he can try his best to help his father carry food.

I hate that I am not a man! Men can carry their burdens on their shoulders! When I was in junior high school, my mother saw a boy from my village picking rice for my family and said enviously, "I wish you were a boy!" " "Boys have great strength and are good helpers in farm work. Unfortunately, after many years, my two younger brothers have grown into handsome boys, but they have never helped their parents pick a load of grass! I was spoiled by my parents since I was a child, and my sisters protected me, and none of them helped me plant them. They are now working in other places and will never farm again. Besides, they can't grow at all.

I help my parents do what I can, help them make a fire to wash clothes, "cuddle", help them dry the grain and harvest ... and look at myself. In just a few days, my whole body became "terrible": my hair was messy; The skin is quite white and black enough to be comparable to Bao Qingtian; Hands and legs are full of injuries, twisting red marks; To make matters worse, those "smart" hands who can at least operate computers, although they can't play the piano, are as rough and cracked as bark. Hey hey! If I want to play a village woman, I am definitely the best candidate.

As long as I can lighten the burden on my parents, I can bear it no matter how hard and tired I am.

Parents worked hard all their lives, worked hard all their lives, and were poor all their lives, and their hard sweat spread all over the earth. Although they also yearn for a better life: they have a pension, don't worry about daily necessities, go wherever they want to play, and their children and grandchildren will spend their old age around their knees ... but it is a beautiful dream after all.

Now, I made an exception and didn't go home to help my parents with farm work. My work place is far from home, so I can't save my holiday.

Autumn in 2008 is also a harvest season. My seriously ill father is like a dying old man. He can no longer cut a handful of hay and pick a load of grass! He left his father's last footprint, the last drop of sweat, in the fields he had cultivated all his life!

I don't have to help them with their farm work anymore. Father left with regrets and dreams! His body merged with the earth and returned to his beloved land. There are his sweat, his hopes and his dreams. ...