Spring, my hometown, green grass and flowers are in bloom. Out of the tree branches, birds singing in the merry. Looking around is the continuous mountains, mountains and rolling hillsides in the spring, as if a domesticated hen the carpet, until the sky. Graceful flowers blossoming in a dotted mountains, attract colorful butterflies; in the depths of the mountain is the terraced rows of shapes, by definition, is the same as the stairs rice; a winding path to article rice into the ever-changing shape, some like crescent, and some, like boats, some as sickle ... ... in the spring, when seedling growth, fresh green color of the home that add still more beautiful.
Summer, sun spit fire, but the hills in the home full of trees, in the shade of the shelter, the very cool; also known bird burst into song. Kind of ripe watermelon in the mountains, home of the watermelon usually round and bright, and that the air moon, as round; cut, I saw a bright red flesh, sweet and delicious; black seeds, like the eyes of swarthy .
Autumn is a golden rice, breeze, rice started singing a harmony of the song, when hard-working farmers are harvesting rice; rice harvest of the cheerful sound of voices and interwoven success of the harvest of the symphony .
Winter, although the trees have been dying, but is everywhere in the roadside grass and wild flowers, which stand at attention in the cold. They tell you: "If winter comes, can spring be far behind?"
This is my beautiful hometown, my favorite home.
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