Prevent (division,) theft.
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I always feel that people born in the countryside have richer childhood memories than children in the city.
These memories are set against the backdrop of vastness, rolling mountains, towering trees, thunder and hail, and waves of crops. They allow us to have an experience of the ever-changing peaks of life, which were immersed in us early in our childhood. This kind of experience may serve as a basis for The background of our lives is given a layer of background.
The memory of my childhood summer has left me heavy. Now in the city, there is still a faint light from a firefly, which leads me to pursue and miss it deeply.
Dai Chunfeng is indeed a bit big. When you squint at the sky, it is brighter than the sunflowers in the field. However, the wind blew from the hills and fields, carrying with it the scent of herbs on the earth, cooling the young man's heart. Looking up at the sky again, there are thick white clouds in the sky, like a camel walking slowly.
Gu Qi walked to the well, which was an old well in the village. He picked up the clear well water and drank it, which instantly moistened his internal organs. The boy grew up drinking the well water in the village. The well water in the village gave the boy a pair of clear eyes. The undulating mountain ridges of the village, the tall trees, and the hard rocks are filled with water that is constantly gathering and flowing underground. The water is filled with the crisscrossing blood vessels of the land. A well was dug, and the clear water was like a baby's eyes suddenly opening, and the whole countryside became vivid and bright.
There is light in the evening, men are smoking cigarettes under the trees, old people passing by cover their chests and cough, old cows are being led on the way home in the evening, and someone's mother's long voice floats in the evening wind: " Wu Chunyang, come back for dinner..." This is a shot of the summer evening in my childhood, etched in my memory like a print.
Under the yellow kudzu tree, before dusk arrived, some villagers had set up tables and stools under the tree, and the women were preparing dinner for the evening. There was smoke in the village, and in the smell of cooking smoke, I could accurately tell that Aunt Wang’s family was making pumpkin rice, Zhang Er Mazi’s family was frying beans, Hong Laosan’s family was stewing bacon, and my family was making shredded potato noodles...
Zhang Ermazi was the first to bring fried beans to the table under the yellow kudzu tree, and he began to invite several men in the village to drink together. At that time, the folk customs were simple, and there were dozens of households in the village. Each family served a dish, and you used chopsticks and I used chopsticks to pick up the dishes on the same table. Children were playing hide-and-seek under the trees, playing and chasing each other, and adults were enjoying the fragrance of rice flowers. Inside, the frogs croaking and talking about sangma.
What makes me happiest is that Uncle Hou, the storyteller in the village, tells us a passage from an ancient book under the yellow kudzu tree every night. Often at the most exciting point, he stopped abruptly and said: "If you want to know what happened next time, let's listen to the breakdown next time!" I went home with my shadow in the moonlight, thinking about Uncle Hou's story, which made me dream. It also returns to scenes from ancient stories. I remember that one night when I was 8 years old, I dreamed that I was competing with Sun Wukong in somersaults. When I woke up, I rolled under the edge of the bed.
The leaves rustled in the evening breeze, and I felt like water was flowing in the tree trunks. The cool wind blew into the yard, and the wooden door opened with a creak. At dusk, my mother often brings a basin of water and pours it on the ground, just like pouring it into a slightly hot iron pot. The heat sizzles and spreads. At night, the night wind is as cold as water. Our family is sitting in the yard. I slept on the large dustpan placed inside, with the moonlight floating and the chirping of insects one after another. One night, I was woken up by the night wind. I chased the fireflies to the mountain ridge alone, but the fireflies flew away. Under the moonlight, I saw watermelons lying in the sand on the mountain ridge, like landmines among the leaves. The watermelon was ripe early, so I simply smashed one open with a stone and ate it. It was so sweet. It was the sweetest watermelon I have ever tasted. At this time, the sound of rushing water came from the canal weir beside the mountain ridge. It turned out that the brigade was pumping water from the reservoir to fight the drought.
I tiptoed back, and a coughing sound startled me. When I looked closely, I saw a man walking over under the moonlight carrying a hoe. It turned out that it was Zhao Dafa, the brigade water piper. He was patrolling along the road to pump water. He saw me and muttered: "Baby, it's so late at night, why don't you go home and sleep."
I returned to the yard and found that the thin mother in the dustpan was gone. It turned out that the night wind was too cold, so my mother went back to the house to sleep with the quilt in her arms. Outside the window, I heard my mother's slight snoring. I looked at the night sky, as blue as the lake, and a bright moon shining in the sky. I was thinking that early tomorrow morning, my mother would go uphill again to harvest corn. It doesn't matter if I can't sleep, just let my mother sleep well.
While I was thinking this, the dogs in the village barked a few times, and the night wind blew, making me shiver, which was like a message that autumn was coming. Sure enough, when I woke up in the morning, there was a layer of dew on my eyebrows.
After summer, it’s autumn, and I seem to be middle-aged in the city now. The middle-aged man has a pair of worldly and turbid eyes, still looking at those immortal image negatives from his childhood summer, soaked in the water of time, they are clearly developed again.
Wanderers who have been in a foreign country for a long time will always yearn for their hometown. Everything, every plant, every tree, every meal that surrounds family affection will always inadvertently arouse the wanderer's homesickness.
During the Spring Festival this year, my husband and I returned to his hometown. We drank rice wine from his hometown, ate glutinous rice dumplings stuffed with dried tofu and bamboo shoots from his hometown, worshiped his ancestors, and visited relatives. On a sunny afternoon, my husband was in high spirits. Bobo took my daughter and me to the fields.
The countryside in the south is still full of spring scenery in winter. Along the way, we saw mountains in the distance, green water surrounding the house, red and pink camellias dotting the house, green bamboos and cypresses surrounding the village, and rows of green tea trees. Walking on the ridge of the field, my daughter carefully identified the various fruits, vegetables and trees in the field. My husband talked about the childhood memories evoked by this scene, while I was immersed in the fresh air of the countryside, the leisurely white clouds on the forest tips and In the beautiful scenery of Shuicunshanguo.
Suddenly, I discovered a kind of grass that seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t name it. The teacher said: "This is a kind of wild vegetable. It is called Ci'en in our local dialect. I don't know what it is called in Mandarin. During the Qingming Festival, we have the custom of making rice crackers with it here." One sentence reminded me, could it be Zhou Zuo? The scientific name of the yellow-flowered wheat fruit mentioned in the article is Trichoderma striata?
"The leaves are small and slightly round and alternate, with white hairs on the surface, and the flowers are yellow and clustered on the tips." My daughter took a photo with her mobile phone and checked online, and found that it was indeed the yellow-flowered wheat fruit that Zhou Zuoren could not forget. As a result, my daughter and I want to try Qingming rice crackers. When I went home and told my mother-in-law, she happily agreed to cook it for us.
The day before we left home, my second sister also came to see us off. A group of five of us came to the field closest to home. The sunshine was warm. We were chatting and laughing while picking wild vegetables. It was as fun as a game. The cheerful atmosphere diluted the sadness of parting. Soon we picked a basket full of vegetables. Mercy.
When we got home, everyone worked together to wash vegetables and flour, make fillings and make cakes, then put the wrapped rice crackers in a mold, print an orchid on it, and then steam it in a pot. After such a busy time, the rice crackers were put on the table. The green rice crackers carried the aroma of wild vegetables. They took a bite while they were hot: "Well, they are fragrant, soft and glutinous, and delicious!" At that moment, the faces of the relatives were filled with joy. With happy smiles, my daughter and I happily took photos and posted on WeChat Moments, fixing this warm and joyful moment in our memories.
The fragrant rice crackers convey nostalgia. A certain period of time, a certain scene, and a certain flavor will be melted into life, reminding you of the direction of your hometown from time to time in the Years Like Flow. Time and space cannot separate the nostalgia of wanderers and the concern of relatives.
The wind in the morning was still biting, so I bundled up tightly as usual, entered the unit, looked up suddenly, and found that on the roadside of another road, the willow branches that had dried up all winter and were dark were actually showing a faint green. While I was marveling, I suddenly thought, is it possible that this spring-budding willow tree was turned green by the eyes of people who are eagerly looking forward to spring?
Thinking of this, all kinds of reverie about Liu came out.
What about Liu Se? Maybe it was painted by someone, otherwise how could the green willow be half yellow and half even? Of course, the willows in Xishu still need a few chirps from the orioles outside Du Fu's window before they become lush and green. Willow leaves are naturally cut finely with scissors. As soon as the spring breeze of February comes out, the green leaves are flying, and the willow branches are covered with green, which also makes the whole spring green.
Willow not only decorates spring, but its greater function is to convey emotions. The climbing strips are folded and sent far away in front of Longting. Haha, the ancients created romance by folding a willow branch without spending a penny! Otherwise, just fill in a poem about willow branches. If it reaches your ears if you don’t believe it, you won’t feel the nostalgia for your hometown. Otherwise, use a long piece of willow silk to tie your heart tightly.
The catkins flying all over the sky are also useful. How much leisure time do you have? Yichuan Tobacco fills the city. However, in Du Fu's writings, the same catkins become crazy catkins that go with the wind, and light peach blossoms drift with the flowing water; in Xue Baochai's eyes, it is a good wind that sends me to the blue clouds with its power.
The free door faces the mountain road, and the deep willow reading hall. With vertical strips and sparse branches, it is quiet and pleasant. Tao Yuanming, Mr. Wu Liu, has brought Liu into another realm.
The willow branches are soft and sway with the wind, just like the dancing shadows. The willow leaves are slender, just like the beauty's distant mountain eyebrows that seem to be frowning but not frowning. In this case, is Liu Tingting the embodiment of weakness? It’s really hard to say, Pu Songling once wrote about a woman named Xiliu.
I never quite understood why the old man gave such a feminine image such a gentle name. Later, I accidentally looked through "Historical Records" and found out that Xiliu has the name Xiliu Camp. It was the place where the famous general Zhou Yafu of the Han Dynasty was stationed. Xiliu's troops. It is said that Zhou Yafu managed the army strictly and the Xiliu Army maintained strict military discipline. Emperor Wen of the Han Dynasty went to express condolences, but was rejected. The guarding soldiers told him: The army heard the general's order, but not the emperor's edict. In this way, the thin willow in it really deserves this name.
