felicia cole

One day, I finally

There was a pump house in the field, and the pump house was surrounded by corn. The old man who watched the pump lived and ate in the pump house for many years and did not go home. His house is in my front room, opposite my house. I have never seen the old man go back home. The old man's wife lives at home with three sons and one daughter. There were some thick iron pipes in the basement of the pump house, and the old man used to go down and open the valves on the iron pipes to supply water in some places and shut off water in others. The water pump room is surrounded by a circle of land with iron gill net. In the field, there are vegetables and melons, tomatoes, beans and corn, and red girls are planted on the edge of the ground. In autumn, those red girls are red and coquettishly, like brilliant flowers, very beautiful. I often pull the barbed wire to look inside, of course, the most like to look inside the two vines, a string of purple and black grapes to increase my mouth saliva. Grown-ups say it's called rose grapes, and it tastes delicious. I've never had one, and I can't imagine what a scented grape is. I said to my father, "What is a scented grape? "My father said it was easy to plant a vine. When the vine was pruned, you could pick up a few branches and bury them in the ground. In the next spring, you could plant them in the ground and water them often. Since then, I look forward to the arrival of autumn, after the arrival of autumn, I almost go to the pump room once a day, waiting to see the pump old man pruning, under the learning to go, under the learning to go, afraid of missing the pruning time. My heart is full of the beautiful hope that I will also have a vine. Finally, the day came for pruning. I asked the old man for a few branches and took them home. I jumped down into the cellar and buried the branches in the moist soil. I longed for winter to be over as soon as possible, but the longer I longed for it, the longer I found that hope was a kind of torture. In the spring I used to go round the pump house to see when the old man was digging up the vine stand. Sometimes, when I see the strong wind blowing wormwood, the wormwood is like a ball rolling over the vast field, which makes the empty field more desolate.