在老屋的旁边,有一座爷爷年轻时开垦的茶园。每到初春时分,油油的茶树上就会冒出嫩绿,新芽儿沾上几滴露珠,像是一粒粒晶莹的珍珠。它们伸展着腰儿,像小鸟张开嘴巴,吮吸着春妈妈的乳汁。每到这时,爷爷奶奶就会系上围裙到茶园采茶。他们小心翼翼地摘下那一抹抹新绿,然后轻轻地放进胸前的口袋中。在茶树的影子下,爷爷奶奶像两个孩子一般,在茶叶间快乐地行走着。春天的阳光透过树叶间的缝隙,轻轻地攀爬上爷爷奶奶温暖的脸庞。 Next to the old house, there is a tea garden where my grandfather reclaimed a young man. Every early spring, oil and tea trees will emerge Verdant, sprout children stained with a few drops of dew, like a grain of crystal pearls. Stretching their waists, they open their mouths like little birds, sucking their mother’s milk. At this time, grandparents will be tied apron to the tea garden picking tea. They carefully took off the gush of fresh green, and then gently put it into his chest pocket. In the shadow of the tea tree, grandparents like two children, walking happily in the tea room. Spring sunshine through the leaves of the gap, gently climbed the grandmother warm face.