Tasting the Joys of Farm Life at Qinhu Wetland

What's fun about Qinhu Wetland in Taizhou? Just taking a rowboat, looking at reeds, and taking a stroll on the shore.

Friend, if that's how you imagine a tour of Qinhu Wetland, you're completely mistaken.

Having just delighted in seeing the milu deer, we turned a corner and suddenly a pastoral scene appeared before our eyes! What we saw reminded me of the passage: 'After advancing a few dozen paces, the view suddenly opened up. The land was flat and broad, with neatly arranged houses, fine fields, beautiful ponds, mulberry trees, and bamboo groves. Paths crisscrossed the fields, and the sounds of chickens and dogs could be heard. People were coming and going, planting and harvesting, and the clothing of men and women was like that of outsiders...'

Pastoral scenery has always been the longing of city dwellers. The so-called 'poetry and distance' — apart from mountains and waters — is the rural countryside.

During our middle school and college years, we went to the countryside every year to participate in the 'Three Summers' and 'Three Autumns' labor. After graduating, we also went to a military farm for a year and a half of labor training. Deep in our hearts, we have a strong attachment to the countryside. Today, smelling the fragrance of rice flowers and seeing the golden rice ears bowing their heads, we felt a joy in our hearts. Old and less agile in squatting, the two of us still crouched down one after another to take a happy photo with the bountiful rice. There was a figure in the rice field; on closer look, it was a scarecrow, almost lifelike!

Next to the rice field was a vegetable plot. Row after row of carefully planted vegetables. In this wetland environment, I naturally thought of an old poem — I've forgotten who wrote it: 'Half of the prime minister's barren garden is vegetable plots, beyond the stone screen lies a sand embankment.'

Beside a simple farmhouse, there was a millstone. Wang and I used it as a prop, taking pictures while pushing it. A short distance away, there was a large room with another millstone to push. We pushed it again, never tiring of it! On the other side, a pair of buckets and a shoulder pole lay on the ground. Without hesitation, we picked up the shoulder pole, lifted the buckets, walked a few steps, and took a photo. Pity: the buckets were empty. If they had been half full of water, wouldn't it have felt better?

A few tour group members stood nearby. There was a couple, and the young lady even gave me a thumbs up and said, 'Like! Really like it!'

— At your age, we had done all kinds of farm work. Carrying water to water the fields, the skin on our shoulders broke several times.

— Oh my, you were really happy back then! (The young lady said loudly)

— Huh? (Upon hearing that, I was momentarily stunned, not knowing how to react.)

Putting down the shoulder pole and walking out of the large room, I pondered the young lady's words and began to realize: the word 'happiness' is not unreasonable.