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I can't help but stop. I can't take my eyes away.

On the roadside, there are several large bundles of sunflowers on the small flower stalls, which are in full bloom and unrestrained, without gorgeous colors, but they are extremely fresh, crowded next to each other, excited and delighted, and have an initial ignorance of the world.

Looking at it, I recall the fragrance of kwai in my hometown.

There is a sunflower field in front of the old house in my hometown. The blossoming kwai, the flat green leaves whirling in the wind, and the big flower trays, which opened among the leaves, smiled heartily. At noon, the scorching sun scorched the earth, and stirred the blossoming kwai, as if to eat and wipe off the little water left, but they looked up as if they didn't feel it, and looked hard in the direction of the sun, as if they were pregnant with infinite yearning for distant places, and kept trying to pursue it. Every petal is storing the energy of life. The yellow is dazzling and the smoke is rolling. It is a sunny day that can't be washed away or turned off. When the wind blows, the flowers and waves roll, spreading like yellow silks and satins, flooding the peasants who work among them. I can't help but feel that I have become a sunflower seedling. Smell the sunflower fragrance baked by the sun. The scene is engraved in my heart and will never be forgotten.

As the days went by, the melon seeds in the flower tray became plump and plump day by day. They absorb enough sunshine and flowers, like diligent women, mature and charming. The villagers cut off the flower trays and tapped them lightly. Each melon seed, like a cheerful doll, bounced into the bamboo plaque with the joy of harvest. I can't help but lean my head in, close my eyes slightly, and enjoy inhaling deeply-it's the smell of sunshine. How many drops of sweat shed by villagers working day and night, how many storms and scorching sun temper, are concentrated in this little body of melon seeds. From then on, I firmly believe that sunflower is the root of the village, while melon seeds are the soul on the top of farmers' hearts.

The harvested melon seeds have a good taste when eaten raw, but after being fried, they will give off a more fragrant and beautiful taste. I still remember that in the big black tile-roofed house, rows and rows of stoves spewed frantic flames, and the strong men were armed with shovels, and their posture was vigorous and dashing. Command the warm dance music in the pot-fine sand scoured from the dam, mix with coarse salt, stir-fry it in the pot first, then add melon seeds and stir-fry, and a piece of yellowish gray in the pot flies up and down with the action of the shovel, drawing a beautiful arc of the road. Clever women are holding their breath to guard the hearth, and the action of adding firewood and fanning in their hands is also refreshing and agile, and the temperature is the key, which is entirely controlled by them. Two people always cooperate with each other so tacitly, regardless of the eyes misty by sand, the sweat burned by the heat wave, and the reflection on the black and red faces, all of which are the satisfaction and hope that they get what they want.

A few rays of setting sun climbed the treetops, ate melon seeds, took a nap by the river, leaned against the thick camphor tree, and twisted the rough gullies and gullies on the bark. Looking up, the sky is full of clouds and the river is vast and rippling. Evening came quietly, and the blue sky in the corner of the river was inadvertently transformed, turning from blue to light yellow, goose yellow and orange, and gradually melting into a purple, deep, deep purple, which was suddenly scattered-the boatman gently shook his oar head and moved slowly after the fine willow tip. Water, sky, melt into the same color, gorgeous can make people submerged in an instant.

Now, I have been away from the sunflower fragrance in my deep memory for many years, but the silk flower soul, together with homesickness, still haunts my heart, and the lingering fragrance is the taste of sunflower, which lasts for a long time.

In the past, the sunflower was in full bloom. Today, I am holding a bunch of sunflower, soaking in the warm sun, wandering in the fine memories. With blue sky and white clouds, I will always have a heart as bright as a sunflower. No matter how far I go, there are still sunflower flowers in the mountains, which bloom under the strong sun and worry me.

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