Prose/wheat

Text/Oriental Bright

199 1 year, I graduated from normal school and became a primary school teacher in my hometown alma mater. Since then, I have formed an indissoluble bond with the land and become a half-worthy farmer.

In August of that year, I got the first bucket of gold in my life-one month's salary, poor 105 yuan.

In fact, the so-called home has long been torn apart. The eldest brother and the second brother started their own stoves, and the only sister got married. Only the father and the old mother who had been ill for a long time lived in the two small tile houses. The school is a mile or two away from home, and I live in the office assigned by the school. I gave my parents a piece of sweet potato stubble wheat. Because of the late planting and lack of fertilizer, the result turned out to be crazy. The paved wheat is green, not only bad in color, but also dry. It is said that it will not fail when it is handed over to the grain management office for public grain. As for the output, it is conceivable that the total output of two and a half acres of land is more than 300 kilograms. Within a few months, the grain store at home was lit up.

When I got my first month's salary, I hurried home and handed the money to my father respectfully. My father counted it roughly and handed it to me again, saying, "There is no food at home. Borrow a shelf car and buy some wheat! " At that time, the price of wheat was 13 1 kg, which was exactly 800 kg, just enough to fill a car.

Wheat is the most familiar crop for farmers. It is green when it is young and golden when it is mature. It takes about seven or eight months from sowing, fertilizing, weeding, spraying, harvesting to airing, and it is a crop with a long growth period. Of course, a farmer has no more affection for wheat than a loving father has for his son.

The following year, there was a bumper harvest of wheat, and the output increased. My father, who has been in bed for many years, occasionally goes to the wheat field to teach me how to do farm work, such as how to pack wheat seedlings, how to pile them, how to get up and how to raise them, including how to use farm tools, just like I teach primary school students.

1993, on the eve of wheat harvest, my father fell ill and left the west. In such a big wheat field, I am busy all by myself. In other families, it only takes one day to thresh wheat. As far as I'm concerned, it will take at least three days, or even longer. Big brother and second brother have more land than me. Besides, in the busy season of three summers, everyone is too busy to expect help, let alone others care about whether you can work or not.

I have been pulling wheat seedlings on four or five acres of land all day. Stacked in the shop, like a golden dwarf mountain.

After supper, I went to bed. My second brother came up to me and said, "Look at the sky, it's overcast. Go to the crib! " Alas, after a tiring day, my whole body will fall apart. How can I have the strength to fold? I said weakly to my second brother, "Go ahead and leave me alone!" After the second brother left, there were not only strong winds, but also lightning and thunder. I really didn't care too much, and the coolness came and I fell asleep soon. As soon as I opened my eyes, it was still so clear. Many people saw me and praised me for my foresight. In fact, I know that they are laughing at me for being lazy.

A new day has begun, and the days have to continue, and the farm work has to continue. Mother carried the rake early and tiptoed to hold the straw. I went to the agency and bought dozens of spoiled eggs, a piece of beer and a box of instant noodles. This is dry food after the wheat season. It used to be popular and ordinary, but now it is extremely extravagant for me. Ready to sail, I went to find a four-wheeled tractor factory.

The wheat harvest in those days was not as simple as it is now. There are large combine harvesters. After harvesting, they can be put into the warehouse or sold directly after being slightly dried. When the weather is fine, use small joints and four-wheeled belts. Only cutting does not thresh, but it is much more efficient than manual harvesting. So the straw has to be pulled, and there are a series of troubles such as spreading and grinding. When the weather is bad, you can only harvest by hand. Needless to say, it is extremely troublesome.

Three strokes a day, and there are four rounds left. I sat in the shade of a tree, smoking silently and waiting patiently. Before long, the carriage came. I told the shopkeeper to grind it no matter how long it takes. As soon as the wagon entered the wheat field, it was like a brave soldier, looming up and down. Onlookers laugh, and I laugh with them. Other people's stalls are paved evenly with iron forks. I pour them one by one, and the places that are too high and thick are arbitrarily flat.

More than an hour passed, and the master asked me to turn it over to dry and grind it. It was just noon, and the diabolical sun shone overhead, as if to dry people's oil. I picked up the broom and rounded the edges around the wheat field. It is even more difficult to turn over the fields, because the paving is uneven and some straws are wet and heavy. So, in a short time, I was sweating and panting. At this time, the iron fork in his hand seemed to weigh one thousand kilograms, and his hand was blistered again. I don't want to do it, but who can do it for me if I don't do it? Besides, the weather is just right, and I don't want others to see too many of my jokes. So, I gritted my teeth and persisted, so I rested and rested. At dusk, the field-turning work finally came to an end.

As the saying goes, the field is dark, and this is true. Following the wind, I picked up the wheat bran ridges that run from southeast to northwest, just like a Youlong, standing in a wide wheat field. Twilight covers the fields, summer insects whisper, and voices and coughs come from time to time in the distance. I raised my fork and tried the wind. Although I know that the parabola principle is used in the lifting field, my lifting technology is really poor. What's more, God can't be satisfied everywhere. It's okay to have wind, but there is little or no wind, which increases the difficulty and intensity of promotion. Anyway, my idea is that a movie is too big to be shown once, twice, twice, three times and four times. I raise the field for a while, hit it for a while, put down the shovel for a fork, and put down the shovel for a broom. Where there is a will, there is a way. Another day passed. Yesterday, the field was full of wheat straw. Today, it is covered with wheat in Huang Chengcheng. Tired and tired, the harvest is good, thinking about not going hungry again, my heart is suddenly filled with happy joy and hope.

In the wheat field in 1995, my big princess was just born and couldn't walk. That was the hardest time. It rained every day in those days, and the harvester couldn't get into the field. Seeing the black ears of wheat, I had to cut them one by one with a sickle in my hand. Many people cut in front and fold in the back. You don't have to learn to farm, and people don't care. Looking around, rows of straw piles are like many new graves that suddenly appear, crying about the injustice of heaven.

One drizzly morning, my wife and I were busy harvesting wheat early in the morning, but forgot our sleeping daughter. When it suddenly occurred to me, I hurried home. Pushing the door open, she fell asleep on the ground. On the dusty little face, tears are littered with words, and the small nostrils are still making sounds. My wife and I smiled at each other, as long as the children were all right.

In a word, that year, no matter how hard people tried, wheat eventually became moldy, and a considerable part of it grew long malt.

Wheat left me too many memories, but I can only write them down. As time goes by, these memories become more and more precious and unforgettable, and often linger in the chest, no matter what.