Golden season sobbing

From the previous day’s market in Tho Ha ancient village, my mother brought sickles to cut locusts, each one of them was bright and sharp. Then, while preparing the light, the mother said to the children, all are ready for the harvest, just waiting for the rice to ripen is to step into the field.

Father ran to the back of the house in Tho Ha ancient village, cut down a bamboo tree that was not too old, brought it to the yard, and carefully split each slice. The slices are split regularly, of moderate length, and once in the sun for added toughness. Everyone takes care and prepares for a perfect golden season. Mom called Hai to the kitchen to see if the sugar jar was still there, then asked Ut to run to the garden to see if the lemon tree had arrived, then pick it up, if it was too young, I would go to the market to buy a few dozen reserved fruits. In the harvest season, it is indispensable for lemonade, sugar, and ice to energize. As for the green tea, the tea with … more rattan baskets worn by the children for the children to catch grasshoppers, muskets again. Be prepared well before the harvest begins. My sister and I ran to and fro following our mother’s instructions, jubilantly thinking of a difficult yet joyful harvest.

It seems that the summer sun makes the new day come earlier than usual. The mother’s kitchen was red, the smoke rising from the morning did not wake up, but when the meal was served, the sun was already spreading in every corner, burning. The farmer’s morning breakfast is simple with a piece of cassava, a boiled potato, a bowl of cold rice roasted with fat or a bowl of instant noodles. The sun seemed to urge people to quickly step out into the field in Tho Ha ancient village

As soon as I stepped on the country road, I saw the scent of new rice rising in the nostrils. The whole field is dyed yellow, the summer sun flows like a supplement to the picture of the day and the season more brilliant. More and more people went out to the fields, the undulating white brims of the hats, greetings to each other, fluttering in the summer wind swaying in each rice field. The sound of locusts and sickles cutting into the rice stalks rustled happily. Any field that is filled with water is likely to have perch, fruit or crabs crawling around. So sometimes during the harvest meal, the shouts of calling each other to catch fish, catch crabs… resound throughout the field. The children followed the adults, sometimes going down to the field, sometimes going ashore to catch grasshoppers, then return to grill and eat. The country harvest generously gives the children a delicious and irresistible gift, so that when they grow up and go far away, everyone will remember and want to enjoy it many times in their life.

Farmers suffer the most during the few days of the season in Tho Ha ancient village. Looking at the sweat-drenched shirts and dark faces, it is extremely difficult and arduous to make fragrant rice grains. The season has gone with the years, with the ups and downs of human life, with hardships, joys, tears and smiles. Growing up, remembering the golden seasons in my memory, I love my parents who have taken care of every single grain of fragrant rice and raised us to be human. I’ve been away from my hometown for nearly two decades, the golden summer is also because of that, I’m so far apart. Tho Ha ancient village is now different from the past, the red dirt roads are concreted.. But fortunately, the rice fields in season still rustle the golden rice. From the old road, my memory appears to the silhouette of my parents in the past with their backs hunched over in the golden season, rice burdened on their shoulders, and dripping sweat. My heart fluttered when my nose rose and fell, remembering the gentle aroma of rice. The golden season is coming back sobbing, sometimes with me is the scent of salty sweat that must be mixed with the new fragrant rice…

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