My hometown is in a very remote mountain village, which is surrounded by mountains on three sides, and the high and low slopes surround the village into a "Xanadu". The mountain people who live here are so simple and hardworking. Traveling back and forth in the spring and autumn all year round, intoxicated by the harvest of farming. Whether going to the market or working uphill, they have to climb mountains when they go out, and climbing mountains has developed their unique survival skills. At the same time, the mountains also cast their optimistic and cheerful personality, and the mountains also tempered their indomitable spirit.
The village where my hometown is located is not large, with dozens of families and hundreds of people, which is many times smaller than the county town with a population of more than 100,000 where I live. However, the small village does not seem empty and quiet, but rather deserted and lonely. It seems that people who are busy in the fields all day always set off the busyness and excitement of the village with hurried steps, and embellish the joy and warmth of the village with rough songs and laughter. The earth wall and blue tiles hidden in the embrace of green trees are deep in the courtyard, and the old house that gave birth to me and raised me gave me a lifelong memory. That watchdog, which has been kept for more than ten years, is lying leisurely in the sun under the eaves, and a flaming rooster is chasing a few hens all over the yard ... Whenever a joke is told here in the village, there will often be a hearty laugh there, and whenever there is something happy here in the village, there will be a unanimous sharing with it ... Because the village is very small, it is so small that people in the village are soul mates and dreams are connected!
Every day in the city, I was awakened by the harsh horns of cars and the cries of vendors, and every time I returned to my hometown in the village, I started every morning with the cries of birds, and then the electric lights lit up in the village, like a rising sun, which seemed to illuminate half the village. Later, the lights were turned on in the village, and one family got up one after another, and one heard the sound of making breakfast and repairing farm tools ... Although loud, they all originated from a kind of simplicity like soil and nature like crops, and were soon drowned by the sound of dew dripping and the sound of rice heading. As a result, the village always seems quiet, just like my father, who is not good at words all his life, quietly stays in front of the door, happy for the wild growth of crops in the field, just like an elderly mother crying quietly for the death of a cow, just like a mountain man who cultivates and harvests in the field, quietly ushering in spring and quietly sending away autumn!
When is my hometown the most beautiful? It is of course a village in the moonlight. On weekdays, the ancient and messy, busy and empty villages look so beautiful and tidy as long as they are reflected by the moonlight. At this moment, those farmhouses scattered among the hillsides have become like heads and tails, wheels and outlines. Under the bright or dark lights, people are calling chickens that have not yet returned to the house and rushing cattle and sheep that have not yet entered the circle ... These sounds, big or small, gentle or rough, always exude joy and warmth as long as they are soaked in this moonlight.
At this time, a child's song came from the village entrance: "We sat beside the high grain heap and listened to the story of the past from our mother …" Soon, a beautiful song from a girl came from there: "When the moon goes, I will go, and I will send Brother to the village entrance …" These songs, like a breeze blowing people's faces, are more like a clear spring infiltrating people's hearts. Grandpa held his grandson in his arms, gently rocking the cattail leaf fan, patting the child in his arms, listening to the song coming from afar, and he was humming in a low voice. What song did he sing? It seems that only he knows. The child fell asleep sweetly in grandpa's humming and patting, with a smile on his face and mouth.
Soon, the night came slowly, and people went out of their homes, or carried small benches, or carried out cool beds made of bamboo, or sat or lay in the courtyard dam to enjoy the cool. They face the fresh wind, look at the bright moon, pull home very comfortably, and then go to sleep slowly, usually until midnight when the moon is west, before returning to the house. Sometimes, I will sleep outside all night. Some people sit quietly all night in this beautiful moonlight because they can't sleep for a long time, thinking about the woman who sneaked into his heart, as if only in this beautiful moonlight did his reverie become so romantic ...
The old pagoda tree at the entrance of the village, with its crown open like a giant umbrella in this bright moonlight, is no longer green or black, and every leaf is silver and shiny. That look is like an amiable old man and a man who has experienced many vicissitudes. He tells the bitter and hard years he has gone through with silence and smile, and watches the dreams of many people with infatuation and loyalty ... The village seems to be more touching and tragic because of this old locust tree in the moonlight!
In this beautiful moonlight, the silvery, slender brook near the village also looked very naughty, and suddenly ran into the bamboo forest. After a long time, it suddenly ran out from the back of a farmhouse. The stone arch bridge on the stream is also very poetically bent under the temptation of moonlight. It bends from the other side of the stream to this side of the stream, and then bends into grandpa's story, and then it is as beautiful as moonlight for many generations' days and dreams.
two
In the village, everyone seems to have dreams. Dreams are like flowers in spring, always emitting intoxicating fragrance; More like the crops in the field, in Yamashita, which is as clear as water, they are heading and jointing ... When sowing, they often dream that the crops in their fields will grow green; At harvest time, they dream of sweet and warm days after harvest; When they enter the city, they dream that the buildings to be built at the end of the year are as beautiful as those in the city; When they go to work in the city, they dream of going home to start a business after making a fortune and driving more mountain people to get rich; When they send their son to school, they dream that his son will be admitted to university in the future, so as to realize the dream that has never been realized for generations ...
My father is an honest man in the mountains. In those hungry years, my father's greatest dream was to let the whole family have a full meal. In order to realize that dream, he worked day and night, worked hard to earn work points, and the burden of life failed to crush his will. No matter how big the difficulties, he could overcome them. It seems to be that dream that supported him through that difficult time.
My mother is an ordinary rural woman. Every time I see someone else's children wearing new clothes during the New Year, her dream is that our brothers and sisters can wear the same beautiful clothes next year. When we were very young, she always dreamed that we would grow up quickly. When she grew up, she dreamed that we could get married and have children, repeating the footprints of our ancestors' lives ... My mother seems to have lived happily for most of her life in this dream. Today's old mother, she is still wandering in her dream. Her dream seems to be that our career is successful and our family can be safe.
But my aunt's dream seems to have been continuing on that stone road. I remember that no matter in the early morning when the wind blows gently, or in the night when the stars are scarce, I always see my aunt sitting alone in the courtyard dam, staring at the winding stone road in front of the door. It seems that I heard that my aunt was arrested from this stone road, and I never heard from her again. I don't know how many times I heard others urging my aunt to remarry, but I always heard her answer, "I had a dream last night." In this way, my aunt waited and dreamed until the son she gave birth to with her aunt grew up, and when her son grew up and had a son, my aunt was still dreaming that my aunt could come back from this stone road. Until she died, she said, "I finally waited for him!" " Say and close your eyes forever.
It is Liu Sanye in the village who has the same "dream" as my aunt. It is said that Liu Sanye has always been kind to my aunt. After my aunt was arrested as a "able-bodied man", he has been helping my aunt with farm work, plowing cattle and harrowing, planting seedlings and threshing ... He has come to help my aunt. His young aunt certainly understands this idea, but no one has revealed it, so they are immersed in their own dreams. Whenever night falls, Master Liu waits under the tree at the entrance to the village? Waiting for the moon to rise, waiting for the stars to hang all over the sky, waiting for the dream in my heart to gradually become thick and beautiful in this Yamashita, just like this beautiful moonlit night, dotted with his lonely and romantic life. Until he died, he couldn't breathe his last breath. Everyone didn't know what he was thinking. Only the old aunt understood. She went over and cried and said, "Don't worry! In fact, I have long understood your mind ... "In such a word, Liu Sanye finally left with a smile.
In the village, dreams, like crops in the field, are always nourished by the spring rain, and even more golden by the sun!
three
The mountains and rivers of my hometown are still reflected in my mind, like a poem about mountains and paddy fields, more like an ink painting, embedded in my dream.
Correspondingly, it is a small stream with a mountain stream that flows day and night. It has no rivers and no waterfalls, but there is no lack of strength in its thinness and faith in its weakness. This stream keeps flowing, and the beautiful sound of running water, like an unadorned original ecological folk song, makes the ordinary days of mountain people so full of interest and poetic. Women always come to the stream to wash clothes, and the hearty laughter always echoes in the mountains, making the mountain village full of joy. Sometimes, when people working on the mountain are tired, they sit by the stream and rest, watching the stream go down the rock until it disappears at the end of their eyes. It seems to be this moonlight stream, which always brings legends and stories to the village. Those stories are always related to the village and moonlight. For example, Wang Popo, with gray hair and always complaining of low back pain and leg pain, died in that moonlit night, and when she died, she was still calling the name of the man who abandoned her in her early years and left home. Li Laowu, who has been single for most of his life, must have burned high incense. In the spring of this year, there was another bride as beautiful as flowers and pure as jade in his bed. Now his farmhouse halfway up the mountain, in this beautiful moonlight, is not much for many people ...
I also listened to the gentle singing of the stream until I embellished my dreams vividly, and I felt indescribable comfort in my heart. When you are thirsty, drinking a clear stream will not only make you intoxicated, but also penetrate your heart, not only clearing your heart, but also nourishing your heart.
If it is sunny, the mountain village is a busy scene. People are busy farming, harvesting, working hard for the prosperous days and eulogizing the rich and beautiful life. On the hillside, the flowers poured with sweat are full all year round, the fruits exchanged with expectations are full, the fragrance of mature wheat is floating, the red satin of sorghum is dancing, and the laughter of citrus is hanging; Under the hillside, there is a light smell of mature vegetables in vegetable fields, and the joy of yellow rice is floating in the fields ...
If it is a misty rainy day, walking on the mountain road is even more pleasant. The brushing sound of the rain on the branches and leaves mixed with the wiping sound of the footsteps is really a wonderful chord. Looking up, the distant mountains are like Dai, and the washed Woods are so crystal clear, like a layer of bright clear oil. The trees in the mountains are like brides dressed in green gauze, tearful with shame, and like mature and steady middle-aged women, who are silent in sorrow and joy. Pieces of leaves are like the face of a baby to be fed, waiting to suck milk on their backs, and they suck out the sound. In the rain, the mountains are gloomy and fantastic, and ethereal. In my sleepy sleep after being busy because of the complexity of the city, I can always hear waves of magnificent symphonies.
It seems that people who live here don't change their love for their hometown lightly because of the temptation from outside. They guard their homes like mountains and live a life of savory sunrise and sunset. Maybe some people have already left their hometown, but they still remember their hometown. I remember the simple land covered with grass, the vines covered with grapes on the dilapidated roof, the lovely apples, pears and apricots in the courtyard, the process of growing from childhood to adolescence and then from adolescence to youth in my hometown like my parents' arms, and the parents who have been rooted in my hometown soil like mountains all the year round ... Year after year, my hometown in my memory, like my mother's pickles, always exudes an irreplaceable flavor of fragrance.
Although, my hometown has high mountains and steep roads, streams running, willows floating, smoke curling up, mountains and gullies, and frogs croaking at midnight. But it still makes me miss, and it still makes me dream back to my hometown every night. Sometimes, when I go back to my hometown and occasionally stroll through the village, I am familiar with those kind and enthusiastic faces, and I always feel a strong nostalgia when I call my birth name from their voices. Anyone who enters the farmyard, from the crowing of chickens and barking of dogs, feels the smell of livestock mixed in the soil, and feels the
