Accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city, tired of the right and wrong and depression of the school, it is a new life experience to go to the countryside for a day's leisure.
From the dense cement forest to the yellow land with wide vision, from the bustling crowd to the scattered cattle and sheep, from the criss-crossing highways to the golden wheat fields and green vegetable fields. All these changes have made me realize that I am closer to my destination-the countryside.
Walking into the countryside, a gray-yellow dirt road leads to the distance, which makes me understand that I have a long way to go. There are villages on both sides of the dirt road, and there are already dry Parthenocissus crawling on the outer wall of the village. From the area it occupies, we can imagine its prosperity and health in the past. In spring, its little feet become a message to welcome spring, and in summer, it shields people from the overbearing and strong summer heat. In autumn, he changed from green to red and became a beautiful scenery in the eyes of others. In winter, he meditates and hibernates to prepare for his rise in the coming year ... Parthenocissus is great, but stingy. He can only appear on the low earth wall, but he can never climb the towering skyscrapers. Maybe it's his choice. Presumably, he doesn't want to make himself so tired. Walking along the dirt road, there was a family whose wooden door was left unlocked. You can see a pair of murals painted with green mountains and green waters from the gap, which seems to add a trace of yearning. I pushed open the dirt door and creaked. A woman in a cotton-padded jacket looked at me doubtfully and asked me who you were looking for. I was so choked that I didn't know how to answer. I stammered that I was wrong and left in a hurry.
Every family in the village has a separate yard. There are many kinds of trees in the yard. Some people plant trees just to enjoy the cool in summer, while others have fruit trees covered with red, like a piece of Xia Hong. Walking under a tree, people have the impulse to pick fruit from the tree. Many people have also opened up a vegetable field in their yard and planted leeks and spinach ... the clever women in the village will put them away before dinner.
In the evening, I walked through the country road, and the doors of some families were open. Then I walked forward and saw several middle-aged women sitting around a small table with melon seeds and peanuts on it. The women grabbed it, coughed skillfully and chatted: some people in the east of the village got married and some people in the west of the village made a lot of money again ... They shook their heads when they saw me coming in, but they were very enthusiastic and didn't know me in a hurry. I grabbed a handful of melon seeds and stuffed them into my hand. They asked me where you are from, whose family you belong to, and so on. After asking, they all yawned and hurried home.
Unfortunately, a stranger entered the village, and then he only heard the dog barking, but he was silent. That light footsteps can really be described as Xun Mei walking in the snow. The man walked towards me, and we stared at each other without talking. He hurried past me and looked back at him. He looked back at me, but he still didn't speak.
Maybe we city dwellers are strangers to the villagers, and we are so frustrated by the interests that our feelings are out of tune with the countryside, so that we have to be silent when we come here.
Prose recommendation for describing the countryside: moonlit night in the countryside
When the sun sets, the sunset glow hangs low, and the orange sunset glow is reflected in the edge and gap of the sunset glow, or shines on the trees, grasslands or crops in the field through the gap of the clouds. The noisy day gradually quieted down in the afterglow of the sunset. In the evening when the sun sets, the breeze blows gently and everything is calm.
The farmers who are working in the fields squint at the sunset. For them, the sunset is like an old clock at home, which only closes the time, has nothing to do with beauty, and shows kindness in indifference.
Farmers who should go home to cook, pack up the last work in their hands and feet, walk out of the field with hoes and plows, and leisurely walk on the soft dirt road covered with weeds on both sides. Farmers who don't have to go home to cook quickly lower their heads, speed up their work more quickly, and enjoy the cool time after a day of exposure.
In this beautiful scenery, there is no poet's strange tone, no scholar's sour rot, only the farmer's complacency.
On the asphalt road at the east end of the village, the car sped by in the dusk, and the whistle was urgent and anxious, showing how anxious to return the people in the car were, looking forward to the warm light at home.
The dilapidated river near the village is full of weeds. Some grasses can actually grow to the height of small trees, and from time to time there are several frogs' cries and various insects' cries, which bring imagination wildness and childlike interest to this gradually urbanized country.
The aunt who lives at the head of the village has already had dinner early, swept out a clean clearing in front of the door, put on a few small benches, and shook the cattail leaf fan to drive away mosquitoes and flies for her grandchildren who are playing around their knees. The uncle sitting next to him happily pointed out how the children could have more fun, and from time to time greeted the villagers passing by the door, hoping that they could sit down and enjoy this happy event.
The old woman in the alley has had dinner and sat in front of the old house. Her children and grandchildren are promising to live in the county. . Grandma said that she couldn't feel the affection in the countryside in the bustling city, so she and her grandfather have always been willing to live in the countryside and talk about the past with the old neighborhoods in their spare time.
The moon has climbed into the deep night sky, and the stars have begun to twinkle in the night sky. Street lamps have also been lit up, and cheerful and strong square dance music is playing in the wide field slightly pitted by the cement road. People in twos and threes came one after another, hoping to release the triviality and fatigue of the day, let them fly happily and continue dancing tonight.
There is plenty of night wind in the open space, bringing cool air. The more people gather, the more. There are so many people who like dancing that they can finally queue up. These peasant women who work with hoes during the day are swinging their waists in cheerful dance music. It doesn't look graceful during the day, but it is more and more graceful and lovely in the hazy night under the mobilization of dance music. People enjoying the cool surrounded the dance team, enjoying it happily and commenting on the dancers.
On the edge of this huge square dance team, two dancers, a man and a woman, laughed happily. The man is over 60 years old, with two granddaughters and a grandson, stepping on music and trying to adjust his body and dance steps with the rotation of the team. It is said that he is a cancer patient and his wife died of cancer last year.
That funny woman, who is also in her fifties, is short and chubby, with dark skin and gray hair mixed with yellow. Almost no one knows where she is from. She was attracted by an old bachelor. During the day, I always see her picking up waste or branches that can be used to burn dry wood by the roadside. People who talk nonsense can't understand. At this time, she almost kept repeating an action, standing motionless on the edge of the dance team, swinging her arms and kicking and jumping at those who laughed at her.
People who occasionally come back late, passing by this clearing, are also disturbed by the dancing melody, and their steps are a little messy because they can't find the north. They looked at the idle people with envious and jealous eyes. Hate
The high river in the distance is cooler. It's a place where young people go. They sat on the floor, holding a bag of peanuts and beans and a few bottles of beer, talking about the present and the future.
The night is getting deeper and deeper, and the cool evening wind is wet and dignified. People slowly dispersed with refreshing and increasingly heavy tiredness and disappeared into the streets under the night.
Only the thick night embraces the simple countryside and fields. Under the starlight and moonlight, the country and its fields also slept soundly on this quiet night. Occasionally, a few insects sound, reminding this lonely world that "there is a most beautiful country night here".
Prose recommendation for describing the countryside: summer night in the countryside
For cultivators, rainy days are the most important at this time. If it rains at harvest time, the wheat will turn white and it is difficult to harvest. This price has also been greatly reduced. Therefore, people would rather work in a meeting at night than spoil food in the field.
The pole poked the shore, and the frightened frog jumped into the river with a beep and dived to the bottom of the river. Away from the docks and brightly lit villages, the ship sailed into the darkness.
The river is shallow, there are many bayonets and bridge piles, so the boat has to walk slowly. Holding the pole, mother stood at the bow and watched carefully to prevent the boat from turning over or hitting another boat. I took a flashlight in front of me, and the white light was particularly strong, extending straight ahead. The midge in the air immediately seemed to find the target and flew tightly around the beam. Naughty people gathered at the source of the light beam, which is the port of my flashlight, dancing up and down, very happy.
When you get out of the hole and enter the river, you don't need to turn on the light. Sitting in the bow, looking at everything around, I feel so empty. The oncoming wind slipped in from the short-sleeved tube, covered in water, cool and smelling the faint grass. At this time, the sound of hanging oars is not so loud, and it becomes soft and gentle, full of rhythm. Put your legs on the side of the ship, bend your toes, touch the river, open a ripple, and set off a ripple.
According to the ship, the waves came from the bow, like a "crash", and the whole Black Silk Lake was cut, pulled to the stern and sewed again. The oars at the stern dragged long waves with white light. From time to time, three or five fish came after us, jumped out of the water and sank to the bottom of the river with a splash. Selfishly hope that they can work harder and jump into the cabin, that would be great.
It's much easier to collect wheat on the boat and walk back. Mother was relieved, put down her penny and sat with me at the bow. The wind blows head-on, making it dance the hair in its ear.