he bosom of the village

In the rainy weather, ZhuangJiaRen rodeos won't have to work, spare them and let them rest quietly. But the horses have not been idle, they will focus on watts flow of rain, and listen to the ditch in dancing on QingWa raindrops, the ding-ding by the boom of a sound, like countless children on a banner in small drum, clever and warm. At this time, they will do some beautiful dream, dream, dream, dream FangCaoDe grasses waving fields, and the liquor eco-concerned chicken, wild pigeons and cuckoo noises.

A village have several stable, that is the dog home. The barn sends out a thick atmosphere, ZhuangJiaRen familiar with this kind of breath, rodeos are also familiar with this kind of breath. It is like long after the wine cover hide, smell and stretches, strong take not to open, smelling the captivating. That is the fields of flowers, green grass on warm-hearted gas is TuXingQi rodeos, and sweat khan gas, the fireworks just villages under the fragrance of crops.
 Generations, were living in this horse, and ZhuangJiaRen interlinked with the breath, depended on each other. They like sward, fold the full of the village village, such as YiMeiMei seals, profoundly cover in the bosom of the village, and covered in more than the wandering heart sorrowful...