Father, in every field, cultivated, his own rivers and lakes.
In July, they were awakened again; they borrowed, and in the past years, they re-ironed every field in the small village.
Father, with lighted cigarettes, guides the clouds in the sky; they, put the blended colors on the father’s forehead, and pay tribute to each other;
In July, his father's rivers and lakes. He opened a series of colors; he, inlaid a small fruit, this square that only he could read; he, stitched the fruit of mature color into the world Buttons between the two.
I hope that the earth, do the duty to gestate; father, do their best to pamper.
Author: heart, animal husbandry
Supplementary note: May every little apple be a father's achievement
These words were written by my brother on the plane today. The little apples are managed by the parents, and every little apple is devoted to their efforts. Although it is small, it is indeed original and pure. We have always taken it off from the tree. It doesn't even touch it with one hand. It takes a bite, and the sweet taste will fill the heart.
Finally, I sent a few photos taken by Shen’s students. I remembered that when I took Songge, Shen and Lizi through my home orchard, we picked apples and apples together. Shen also said: We can eat this way again, and the nightingale can be exempted. Haha, he is more humorous than me.