That day, I put the edamame that my mother forgot to peel into the soil, sprinkled some water in the soil, and waited for it to sprout with confidence.
After two or three days, the edamame sprouted. That tiny, tender stem, that thin, fragile, helpless stem and leaf, seems to break at once as long as the wind blows gently. I protect them very carefully. A few days later, edamame began to grow leaves! They are three leaves and three leaves grow together. They are green and look comfortable, just like clover. I don't know why it is so long. After another three or four weeks, the edamame bloomed! White flowers grow on the branches of the stem, as if emitting a faint fragrance. I smelled it, alas, there was no fragrance of flowers. But why do butterflies and ants smell flowers? Butterflies teach pollen, and ants climb up to eat nectar. Their noses must be smarter than mine. Otherwise, how can they smell the flowers?
After another three or four weeks, the edamame began to bear fruit again. Pods protrude from the flower center, small and flat, with a pointed tail. In order not to let others pick edamame, I protected it again.
Slowly, slowly, the pods grow bigger, harder and stronger! I asked my father, "Can I pick edamame?" Dad said, "You can't pick edamame because it's not ripe. You can't pick edamame until the leaves of edamame wither. "
Until today, I took off my pod and faced the withered edamame. I sighed and said, "My edamame friends, farewell, I will always remember your!" " "