The Most Memorable Vegetable Patch
Having passed the age of thirty-five, looking back, one discovers that everyone's journey is without right or wrong, as if it were a predetermined fate.
The environment is constantly changing, and the people and things you encounter are never the same, making replication impossible. The most beautiful things in life often lie hidden in the depths of a person's heart, like a closed bean pod. Your thoughts and feelings are hidden within it. When the time is right, the pod will mature, and you will naturally reveal yourself. However, your thoughts remain hidden within the seeds. Once they encounter suitable soil and moisture, they will quietly sprout, and the subsequent greenness awaits the passage of time.
Childhood is like an eternal song, endlessly repeated and cherished.
Within my childhood, there's a specific memory – a green field in my heart. Whenever I recall it, I can't help but be lost in it, unable to escape.
I grew up in a rural area, and I have a deep fondness for the plants and trees there. I remember that at the end of my village was a large biogas pond, very deep, and most of the time, my friends would play there. The area around the biogas pond was almost my childhood playground.
The biogas pond was adjacent to a large vegetable field, almost every family would receive a portion of it, neatly arranged and well-defined, with deep trenches surrounding it. Because there was only one entrance and exit, you could clearly see what each family was growing and how well it was growing.
At the head of the vegetable field was a very deep well. We used it for watering, washing vegetables, and drinking. If, during the hot summer, you took a sip of the cool water, the taste and feeling of joy were incomparable. You could also wash your arms and feet, and unintentionally, you would discover colorful little green frog babies…
Unconsciously, we would often see a pair of young girls with neat braids, barefoot, standing at the edge of the trenches, holding two long ropes in their hands, connected by a scoop-like object that we called 'a scoop-bucket'. This required a very skillful technique, and they cooperated seamlessly and perfectly, carrying water from the low areas to the higher fields, drop by drop, like an eternal, never-drying song…
Nowadays, this kind of thing, this kind of equipment, doesn't exist anymore, and few people use it. I admire the wisdom of the people in the past – they always used what was available locally and used their intelligence to the fullest. They created conditions where none existed, allowing them to live with dignity and make a mark.
