Once the peasants had land,
they devoted their entire lives to it.
They were like geese in a drought who,
at the sight of water,
would dip their whole bodies in.
They couldn't wait to taste every clump of soil with their tongues,
to see if it was salty or sweet.
They wished they could
turn into seeds and lie in the earth to test whether it was warm and suitable.
Sanhe tilled the soil just like this.
From east to west,
from south to north,
every inch of the soil was turned over,
and every lump of dirt was broken down finely.
After plowing,
the field was raked several times until it was even and smooth,
looking like women had just finished combing their hair.
The loose soil seemed like a soft bed,
inviting one to roll around on it or lie down for a while.
Sanhe had never slept on such a good bed before,
so he let the wheat sleep on it.
This good bed made the wheat feel
comfortable and eager to sprout and quickly poke out of the
ground to absorb some rain and dew.
After raking the field,
Sanhe sat down to rest.
He saw that the buckwheat he had planted was already flowering,
as white as snow.
There were also two crickets chirping in the buckwheat field,
zhi zhi zhi... Chirping so beautifully that it tickled people's hearts.
When he was young,
he used to get scolded for catching crickets because he didn't
collect enough firewood or trampled on the landlord's crops.
But now, the crickets were chirping on his own land,
and he wanted to call the child passing by the edge of the field:
Go catch them! Listen,
how well they're singing!
He was also planning for next year:
to partner up with someone else,
irrigate the land abundantly,
and grow even better crops for a bigger harvest.
Then buy a little donkey to transport grain after threshing;
take his wife on the donkey to visit their daughter in Dongzhuang village.
As Sanhe raked the field,
he thought about how sweet it felt to be liberated.
He laughed happily,
unable to close his mouth.
The crickets in the field sang even more joyfully.