very morning I take the familiar road to school. The two sides of the road have many beautiful scenes, but my favorite part is seeing my rice field in the morning.
My countryside is vast. Only far away could we see the green of the bamboo village surrounding the field. Early in the morning, in the field, the space was very airy and cool. All scenes are as still as sleep. Occasionally hear the cry of a cauldron to eat at night, stray piano call you. Cries like tearing quiet space. A breeze blew, the whole field rustled with a soothing sound. Rice aroma faintly spread under the wind. The first rays of sunlight gently felt here and there on the fields still sunk in silver mist, causing the sea of rice to stir, forming slight waves to chase each other away. Sporadic had people visiting the fields, sometimes they would look down. This time the rice is entering. Each cluster of rice laden down because the rice flower is both long and big. I walked down to the edge of the field and lifted the heavy rice flower in my hand.
The sun had risen, the rice fields now glowed with bright green and yellow. In the distance, the white storks fly in the air, increasing the beauty of the countryside.
Looking at the rice fields of my hometown promises a bumper crop, my heart is full of indescribable joy.
