Green mountains and green waters are dense, and there are few fireworks.

There are two green hills and a ditch, and there are several small villages on the slope. My hometown is a small village. This time back, the village is getting quieter and quieter. In front of the empty stage, the whole village was full, but only twenty people were counted. The villagers said that in winter, there were even fewer people, leaving only a few families in the whole village. The slogan of merging villages along the way often appears in front of us. In a few years, this beautiful village may disappear.

My hometown is cool and it is a good summer resort in hot summer. The village is built on a hillside, running from one house to another, up and down, just like climbing a mountain. The children in the city have never been to the countryside, but they run up and down and scatter joy. In the early morning, the air is moist, and the plumes of smoke rising from the chimney start the day. The smell of grass is mixed with the smell of fireworks, which belongs to the taste of the countryside. The little goats got up early, fled to their owners, fled to their own homes, and the doors of every household opened early to welcome guests who came at any time.

This rural interpersonal communication mode is full of human feelings. If you sit in this house and eat at that house, if you have something rare, all the neighbors will send it to you. If you need any help, please let us know and everyone will help. On weekdays, at the gate of the courtyard and in front of the stage, we get together and chat in the sun. Simple life, in our view, is also quite enviable. If you don't come back for a long time, just come back once. In a small village, this has also become a lively thing. The villagers communicate with each other. When someone comes back, everyone comes to chat, and the chatterbox opens. They talked for two days and two nights.

When I was a child, there was no asphalt road and running water in my hometown, but it was much more prosperous than now. The muddy path leading to the town is rugged, and you can rearrange the bones by walking with a tractor. Cattle, horses, pigs, chickens and dogs in the village are walking freely on this road. I am startled by them from time to time. The river near the village is clear and bright. In summer, children play with water and catch fish barefoot. In winter, they take their own guys for a walk and smoke monkeys.

I like this country very much. There was well water in the yard at that time, and the draft was too heavy. The moment when the iron object was pressed up and wheezed, and the water was pumped out of the well, it was particularly fulfilling, probably similar to the joy of oil workers. It was difficult to press water at first, but it was easier to get to the back. It's fun to watch the rushing well water gush out, and then carefully pour the pressed water into a big water tank one person high in the house.

Speaking of this water tank, when I was a child, I always felt that the water tank was particularly large. In the dark water tank, the probe looked deep and quiet, and there was no end in sight. I couldn't help but feel a little fear and thought of Sima Guang. There is a golden copper ladle lying quietly in the big water tank. The handle and ladle are polished, so it's hard to see if they are very old. There is often some water left in it, and every time I scoop water, it will be left. I stood on tiptoe and could see my smiling face reflected in the copper ladle. I was thirsty in summer, so I raised my copper ladle with both hands and drank a few mouthfuls. The cool and cool mountain spring water really quenches your thirst. Copper ladle drinks mountain spring water, which is a state of mind that air-conditioned watermelon can't reach.

After a heavy drink, I turned my head and watched my grandmother make a fire with firewood. I quickly followed, not for anything else, just to pull the bellows. It feels like a Mercedes in vilen. Just pulling the bellows is also a technical job. The picture is too fast, pulling and pulling, and a lot of smoke comes out. The fire was so fierce that everyone who choked was coughing. Grandma is always helpless. She can't bear to stop this happiness, so she has to stop me. Now back in the village, the well water has been replaced by tap water, and few bellows are left. The villagers said that now the firewood is good and there is no need for bellows. Now, if you throw some firewood in this big stove, it will burn very brightly. When cooking, watching them make a fire with firewood reminds me of my childhood. The difference is that the next generation of children lying in front of the stove are curious. Thirty years, that's all.

? The night in my hometown is particularly deep. After nightfall, there are occasional dogs barking, the rest are quiet, the night is clear, and they are pure black. Looking up at the sky, the dense stars are embroidered in the sky, shining and within reach, as if they can catch the next one. This is the real look at the stars, dazzling, but quiet and shining inside.

Beautiful rural full of green. Feel it again. I wonder if it will exist next time I come back. How I want to keep this beautiful silence, and how I want it to stay at my feet forever. . .