At the rear of my old house there lies a patch of vacant land, which I turned into a vegetable garden. Who could have predicted that from then on my love for it has been growing so intensely that as if it had become an addiction without constraint. These days, I even feel at a loss if I do not walk over and have a look at it each single day.

In the early spring when the last trace of snow still remained at the corners of the walls, I could not wait to sow a variety of vegetables. Afterwards, I counted the days with the utmost eagerness, expecting them to sprout. “ They finally showed up after thousands of urgent calls and prayers.”—several feeble seedlings sparsely dotted the spacious field. This scene was like a pail of cold water poured on my enthusiasm. After making inquiries concerning the cause of it, I realized that I sowed them too early. Ah, there was no other solution left but to sow them afresh with some new seeds.

At length, green seedlings as small as needlepoint came out from the flat surface of the soil. Cabbages, caraways, radishes, all emerged stealthily, afraid of lagging behind. I was pleased and intoxicated to such an extent that I behaved like a child waving arms and stamping feet, that I unceasingly talked about them in the presence of my family. Whenever I was free, I would come and appreciate them, and carefully water and fertilize them. Looking at the green seedlings wavering in the breeze, seeing the dewdrops on the leaves glistening in the moonlight, smelling the fragrance emitted from the flowers just touched by the butterflies, fingering the fresh fruits whose pedicels just dropped, I was enchanted, feeling content and satisfied from the bottom of my heart.

This whole garden of vegetables brought me inexpressible pleasure. I loved them. I loved their soft tenderness; I loved their sweet mellowness; I loved their unique characteristic.

Radishes sprout earlier than others, grow quickly, eatable with soybean catsup while around ten centimeters long. Cucumbers are accommodating; in case you are hungry or thirsty, it can be ready to stuff into your mouth right after being picked and washed. The one with stamina are haricots, which can produce from midsummer until late autumn. Those which have withstood frost are a little reddish, and excellent in taste. One evening in the late autumn, when I was picking haricots, a grandma living in the house in front of mine staggered over and said to me word after word with emphasis:“haricots love autumn.”what ardent love haricots must have for the autumn!

Towel gourds are productive and diligent. Their vines climb along the fence like green dragons, as if they were guards for the garden. However you have to pay close attention to them, because the gourds will grow tough, unsuitable to eat, at the time of picking due to your neglect. Last autumn, the towel gourds grew so well that they produced more gourds than we could eat. I encouraged the whole household to eat them, saying, “ when I served in the army in the south, I noticed people there ate towel gourds every day. In their opinion, towel gourds can help soften blood vessels and prevent from hypertension.” Despite of this, because of our limited consumption power, I had to think of other solutions. I classified them into two categories, the tough ones to be dried for the usage of washing bowls, the tender ones to be given to my neighbors. I felt more than happy that I could share my produce with my neighbors.

In the harvest season, one should make haste to gather. Any delay can possibly lead the vegetables to grasp the opportunity to generate their offspring. Look, the radishes are competing with each other to blossom; the fragrance attracts bees and butterflies to linger, which facilitates the radishes to produce seeds.

I will carefully keep the seeds in order to grow vegetables, or rather, to be more exact, to grow “pleasure” next year. Things have charm; humans have charm; growing vegetable has a unique charm for me.

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