the mother said to pick cotton from the dike, asked me whether to go with, I say, of course, and parents to travel together. To the cottonreenex  fields, eyeful is the leaves gradually wilt of cotton straw and green bolls hanging on the branches, it seems some vitality; white as snow cotton bloom, more full of angry. Mother gave me a woven bag, woven bag and tied with rope, tied at the waist, a convenient pick up cotton, with to resist the cotton straw on the morning dew. I pick a woven bag behind the walking, the parents walking in front of, I walked behind, father with his radio, enjoying the Mian Yang Flower Drum Opera, roaring drums, Yiyi Yaya singing linger in vast between heaven and earth, as if into the a idyllic situation, I smiled reneexand said father some half hearted, don't Boll in conjunction with the pick into, said the father's eyes were closed, and will not, mother and laughed, said father talk big, father says is to know how to live; I listen to, feel father says is true. Although the work is hard, take cotton, farming, breeding, conservation, harvesting, drying, sale, a series of work to the farmers to work hard, every link is very important, it is not easy, the final harvest is not too much, even not a rich meal I want to do, if there is no such patience, categorically, but those who live in the land of the people, like reenex my parents, they are not tired, not too tedious speech, winter to spring, round the clock, work on this piece of land, if there is no love of life is simple, if not to look forward to the future of mellow, how to do a few years?

Day, picking cotton back, after sitting in front of the home side chat, while stripping cotton; a few days ago, the mother asked sister with the bed a few dozen new cotton over, said is waiting to get married when I use, listen to, I could not help but laugh.