What's the narrative order of Fragrance of the Earth?

I seem to see the green sea, the breeze blowing, the swaying rustle, the warm sunshine and the books.

Father said that studying and farming are the same thing. At that time, my head shook into a rattle.

(3) In the chilly February of spring, the spring breeze is like a pair of scissors, cutting out the momentum of thousands of trees blooming overnight, and the buds hidden in the trunk secretly peep at the coming lush spring. Gentle sunshine mingles with the spring breeze, and it is full of vitality wherever it goes.

Spring is the season of sowing. In the open field, the working people spread manure, fatten and sow seeds, and use the arrival of spring to quietly plant hope on the earth.

In the morning, my father who just got up last night and slept beside him disappeared. My father is old, and after retirement age, he has been farming, almost enjoying it. Watching the red sun rise in the east and the sun disappear in the sunset every day, my father especially likes this "spring breeze and fragrant flowers" farm life. Although I am very tired, I am full of energy. I know that my father has his own plans, and work is equal to fitness. Don't be too tired, you can sweat a little and have a slight fever. So I'm not worried about my father.

At noon, my father came back with a yellow towel on his shoulder, and his face was ruddy, as if he had just finished morning exercises. I have prepared my father's favorite Longjing tea. My father sat next to me, looking at the well-growing corn, with a shy smile on his face, took a sip of Longjing and slowly wiped the fine sweat on his forehead.

7. My father is seventy years old, and his hair is gray. It seems that there is no shortage of one. The board is like a brush, and his bronzed skin looks very tough after bathing in the sun.

When I was studying in junior high school, no matter how nervous I was studying, my father always "ignored" or even "unkindly" asked me to go to the fields together. Even though my palms are covered with yellow thorns, I still have to work. Whether it is chilly in spring or scorching in the hot sun, I have become my father's favorite. At that time, I was sober and reluctant.

At work, I often think, how can reading and farming be the same thing?

Now studying, I can understand my father's good intentions and have some good things to share with him, but my father has changed the way he was when he was young. He got up early to do farm work and never called me, which made me feel a little guilty.