当枝头的山杏渐渐泛黄,红玛瑙似的山樱桃格外晃眼,风吹着金色的麦浪,就在芬芳的五月,故乡的麦子成熟了。淡淡的清香,揉合着山野清新的风,在天底下飞翔。每到麦子成熟的时候,丰收在望,我的老父亲就舒眉展颜,每天都要到我家的麦田边,驻足伫立。他手搭凉棚,极目远眺,一地金色的麦穗,棵棵坚挺饱满,整整齐齐地昂首站立。此刻我的老父亲,就像一位身经百战的将军,正在检阅他凯旋而归的队伍。 When the branches of the apricot gradually yellowing, red agate like the mountain cherry dazzling, waves of golden wheat waves, in the fragrant May, the hometown of wheat mature. A touch of fragrance, blending the fresh mountain wind, flying in the sky. Every time the wheat matures, the harvest is on the horizon, and my old father shows up exquisitely. Every day, she stands beside the wheat field in my house. His hands stand arbor, overlooking, a golden wheat, Ke Ken full, neatly standing upright. Now my old father, like a well-seasoned general, is reviewing his triumphant team.