日历
After the desert turns green, harder work begins_我的网站
一 | “下村检查水库，申请一辆公车。”8月19日午后刚上班，日照市五莲县于里镇农业综合服务中心工作人员王友礼快步走进镇党政办。 “老王，这次给你换辆新到的车。”镇党政办工作人员潘春鹏一边递出申请单，一边说道。
At 29, Shi belongs to a new generation of desert-control workers equipped with drones, machines and remote irrigation systems. An earth auger can now do in a day what once required about 200 laborers, while a single phone can control drip irrigation across more than 1,000 mu (about 66.67 hectares) of woodland.
For the older Shi's generation, the challenge was getting trees to survive in moving dunes. For the grandson, it is figuring out how to make those forests healthier and more resilient for decades to come.
Their story captures a broader shift in desert control along the southern edge of the Maowusu Desert in northwest China's Shaanxi Province: turning shifting sand into forest was only the beginning.
In 1986, Shi Guangyin, Shi Jianyang's grandfather, led more than 300 villagers into Langwosha, a sandy area in Dingbian County in Yulin City. He had raised 60,000 yuan (about 17,377 U.S. dollars at the time) by selling his family's 84 sheep and borrowing from relatives and banks to contract 3,500 mu of barren sandy land.
The early setbacks were severe. Strong winds destroyed about 90 percent of the saplings in the first year, and about 80 percent of those planted the following year failed to survive.
After seeking advice from forestry experts, Shi and the villagers laid out checkerboard-shaped barriers on windward slopes to hold the sand in place, then planted trees, shrubs and grasses within them. Sapling survival rates rose to about 80 percent.
Over the next four decades, Shi and those working alongside him treated 250,000 mu of sandy and saline-alkali land, with more than 53 million trees and shrubs taking root.
Greening the Maowusu Desert is part of a much larger national undertaking. It is one of the three major battlefronts of China's Three-North Shelterbelt Forest Program, a decades-long effort to curb desertification across northern China.
China has made desertification control a national ecological priority. Since 2023, the country has stepped up efforts under the program, with greater emphasis on systematic restoration and on consolidating earlier gains.
Decades after the first trees took root, a new challenge emerged. Poplars planted decades ago for their rapid growth began reaching the end of their life cycle, with large numbers of trees dying, while forests dominated by a single species were more vulnerable to pests and disease.
Making a forest was one challenge. Keeping it healthy for another generation is another.
Shi Jianyang grew up watching his grandfather and father work to hold back the sand. His father, Shi Zhanjun, spent years planting trees alongside Shi Guangyin before dying in a road accident in 2008 while transporting saplings.
As a boy, Shi Jianyang sometimes resented the work that had taken his father. He spent summer holidays in makeshift tents in the sandy land, eating meals gritty with sand. During planting season, his father would return home with painful blisters in his mouth.
Yet he eventually chose forestry himself.
After studying forestry technology in university, Shi returned home in 2020 and began working in desert control. His team, initially made up of just seven or eight young locals, later brought in university graduates with expertise in soil science, landscaping and pest control.
The younger generation faced a different question: not simply how to make trees survive, but how to make a forest last.
Shi and his team spent more than 40 days in a 5,000-mu woodland setting up sample plots, measuring rainfall, studying soil microorganisms and tracking tree lodging. They proposed renewing aging forests with better-planned forest structures and expanded the planting of Mongolian pine, a long-lived evergreen species that had been successfully tested locally.
To date, about 50,000 mu of land has been planted with Mongolian pine. As some trees fail to survive and require replacement in subsequent planting seasons, the cumulative area of planting operations has reached about 65,000 mu.
Technology has also changed daily work. Drones patrol forests from the air, mechanized equipment dig planting pits, and irrigation can be managed remotely. Sapling survival rates, which Shi Guangyin's generation had raised to about 80 percent through improved sand-control and planting methods, have climbed further to about 92 percent with greater mechanization and more precise management.
Shi said the changes can be felt on the ground. Strong sandstorms have become rare, winds are weaker inside the forest, and the ground stays moist longer after rain. Summer days beneath the trees also feel cooler, while morning dew appears more often. The changes lead him to rethink desert control.
His approach also reflects a broader effort in China's desert regions to link ecological restoration with local livelihoods, giving communities a stronger economic stake in protecting restored land.
With his grandfather's support, Shi and his team have been looking for ways to make better use of the restored land as ecological conditions improve. They have developed potato seedlings suited to sandy soil, promoted greenhouse farming, and set up a livestock cooperative, while increasingly growing potatoes, watermelons and peppers on land once prone to losing water and nutrients.
Shi has also turned to livestreaming e-commerce to market potatoes and other local farm produce, while developing forest-based health and leisure projects. More than 2,000 local residents have seen their incomes rise steadily as farming, livestock breeding and other businesses have developed.
"We used to fear the sand and keep away from it. Now we understand it and know how to make use of it," Shi Guangyin said. "Today, there are opportunities to make a living everywhere in this sandy land."
Across Yulin, forest coverage has risen from 1.8 percent in 1949 to 34.8 percent, while shifting dunes that once encroached on villages have been brought under control.
For Shi Jianyang, however, the green landscape is not proof that the work is finished. "Planting a tree is not difficult," he said. "The difficult part is looking after it for decades."
The grandfather generation learned how to stop the sand. The young generation is learning how to make what grew there last.
。 “镇里什么时候有‘新车’了?”王友礼有些惊喜。 “我们刚申请到一辆专门保障下乡的应急用车，里程数不到10万公里。”潘春鹏转身从钥匙柜里取出车钥匙，“这车原本在省直机关闲置，前些日子调拨到县里，现在又分到咱们镇，补上了空缺的用车编制。”
五莲县地处山区，乡镇工作人员下村入户频繁。此前，于里镇共有5个公车编制，2辆车已达到报废状态，实际能正常使用的只有3辆。“这5辆车每年要花8万多元维修费，其中大部分费用集中在这2辆旧车上。”于里镇党委书记周华说，因为用车紧张，很多同事下村只能开私家车。 镇上“资历最老”的这2辆车购于2010年前后，记者拉开驾驶位车门，刺耳的“吱呀”声传来，车身及内饰多处老化，掉皮掉漆，行驶里程也超过45万公里。
面对日益老化的车况和不断增长的用车需求，2021年以来，于里镇先后3次提交书面申请，协调解决车辆更新问题，但受限于县级财政压力和车辆编制的刚性约束，申请迟迟未能落地。 于里镇的现状，折射出基层公务用车长期存在的困境。放眼全省，基层公车大多服役年限偏长，运行里程普遍在40万公里以上;而地方财政紧张，难以大规模购置新车，车辆更新压力较大。
二 | 如何实现过紧日子与保障基层出行的双赢? 自2017年起，山东逐步建立全省公务用车管理平台，对车辆行驶里程、位置信息等实现全程可视化监管，全面掌握机构改革、部门撤并、临时机构任务结束等情形下产生的车辆超编、闲置情况，将所有“富余”车辆纳入公物仓统一管理。 “今年，我们进一步整合全省闲置公务用车资产，构建‘实体仓+虚拟仓’结合的公务用车公物仓管理系统。
三 | ”山东省机关事务管理局公务用车管理处处长史晓虎介绍，目前实体仓集中收储闲置、低效运转的公务用车40台;虚拟仓则依托信息化手段，将一定数量的车辆纳入线上统筹，在保持全省公务用车编制总数不增加的前提下，实现动态划拨、资源共享。
四 | 过去，公车资产受分级管理限制，省里的车辆难以顺畅调拨到市县。为此，省机关事务局与省财政厅联合打通资产划拨渠道，破除了车辆资产分级管理形成的壁垒。 在此基础上，山东选取济南市历下区、新泰市、莘县、五莲县、泗水县等5个县(市、区)作为试点，筛选20辆车从公物仓一次性下拨，推动低效运转车辆跨单位、跨区域、跨层级使用。 作为全省首批试点之一，五莲县在初步构建“上级统筹、县级归集、按需调剂、共享复用”的省市县三级一体化体系的基础上，进一步将保障链条延伸至乡镇，探索构建省市县乡四级联动机制。 经过申请，7月21日，五莲县接收省、市公物仓调拨的公务用车5辆，全部纳入县公务用车管理平台。随后，结合平台运行数据和乡镇实际需求，又将4辆车投放到于里镇等4处位置偏远、车辆老化、用车缺口突出的乡镇。 “这批车辆在一定程度上弥补了基层公车运力缺口，解决了公车老旧失修、安全隐患突出、下村入户不便等现实问题。”五莲县机关事务服务中心主任孙宏波说，下沉车辆重点保障乡村振兴、基层治理、应急值守、入户督查等工作。 孙宏波给记者算了两笔账：调拨来的车几乎不新增财政开支，相比购买新车，每辆车可减支10多万元，成本也远低于租用社会车辆;每更新一辆公车，维修成本至少下降40%，安全性能也大幅提升。 “我们将总结试点经验，完善省市县一体化公物仓体系，探索通过数字化手段提升公车调度效率，推动更多闲置公车资源向基层倾斜。”史晓虎说。 (大众新闻记者 刘兵 盖颐帆 通讯员 吕纬航)。
Current article:http://www.jiaopeikongbenlo.pics/sw1q/h0iu3.xlsx
Published on:01:11:38