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Labor experience of drying millet

Every grain of Chinese food is hard.

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Whenever I read this poem, I can't help feeling that the rich people in those cities eat and drink every day and throw them away endlessly. I wonder if they thought about the sufferings of the working people before wasting and ruining food. I feel guilty thinking about it. I used to be that kind of person. But after that meaningful experience, I have always cherished every grain of rice.

On that hot summer day, the sun cooked everything on the earth and made the millet glow one by one. But in this bad weather, they have long been used to the sunshine, and many crops have already matured. At first glance, it is another fruitful autumn.

I walked in the field, and the fan in my hand kept "whistling" to bring me cool wind. Somehow, I feel hotter and hotter. I was embarrassed to see my mother, father and brother who were cutting millet in the field, and even my little niece who was six or seven years younger than me was busy there. So I lost my fan and Zheng Qi's trouser legs and explored the water depth with my feet. "Wow, this field is not deep, no wonder they are so happy." . Say that finish, I walked to them, every step, I tried my best, and finally came to my mother and them. To tell the truth, I have never cut millet. Today, I decided to try it on a whim. I picked up the sickle, holding it in one hand and millet in the other. When I stopped. When I saw it, I was angry at how I cut four or five. So I picked up the sickle and cut it indiscriminately, cutting the millet in my hand clean. I thought of my mother showing off with them, but when I looked closely, Xiaomi was shaken down by me. Alas, this is called: when you see the millet falling from the ground, bend down and pick it up. My mother saw it. I saw my mother come up to me slowly and touch my head with her hand. I gave her a naughty and lovely smile. When I finished picking up millet, I saw a good underground railway that twisted millet, so I went over to have a look.

When I went to have a try, I was denied by my father's ruthlessness. You know, this young lady is not a person who flinches when encountering difficulties, so I spent a lot of sweet words to let me try, and my father also told me to be careful. I readily agreed, so I stepped on it and twisted it. Wow, you can't say that comfortable language. When I finished twisting, I saw, what, I actually?

On the way home, I was thinking that the food we ate was hard-won. After this meaningful experience, I will definitely cherish this hard-won rice.

Unconsciously, I began to sing this poem again. "It's noon when weeding, but every grain tastes terrible." .