Today, the old man told him to eat dumplings at night, saying, "On the twenty-fifth day of the first month, the old farmer wants to grab the wind." Grab the east wind and the south wind to imply a good harvest this year, don't want the northwest wind" I don't know if the old man explained correctly, but I hope that this year's harvest is still good.
I felt no wind today, but there was a light snow drifting by, scattered, and before it fell to the ground, it had turned into raindrops, falling on the head, shoulders and lips, and it was cool and a little salty. It is okay to turn into spring rain, the fields are moist, and the moisture is abundant for sowing, and the harvest can be expected.
When I saw someone holding up a flower umbrella next to me, I suddenly remembered the flower umbrella in the alley outside the high school. It was a memory of youth, a memory that I could never forget for a lifetime. Riding a patchwork bicycle, waiting for a figure at the bend of the alley on the morning when the spring rain is falling silently. When a familiar figure stepped out of the house, held up an umbrella and walked towards the mouth of the alley, riding a bicycle that sounded everywhere rode past her in style, although her upper body had been drenched, she still thought that her wait was worth it, and she also thought that she was very free. At that time, the love was subtle, and there were very few people who talked to each other, but the good feelings in my heart were piling up little by little, but I didn't know how to confess it.
It was a memory buried deep in my heart, and there was no contact until I graduated. After that, there was no news, and finally it was collected by memory.
The young and beautiful girl under the flower umbrella should be doing well. Youth is a flowery year that enriches time. There is a kind of love that warms the four seasons and enriches the passing year.
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