Memory prose rising from the fire

Probably because the weather is getting colder and colder, many memories related to fire and stove come to mind.

When I was a child in the countryside, I used bellows for cooking at home. When cooking, get angry, then push and pull the bellows lever, add coal and charcoal, and start boiling water to cook.

I have an uncle who works in a machinery factory, so it seems that in his home, I have seen a high-end gadget called kerosene stove. Add some kerosene to the stove and a blue flame will come out. This kind of thing that can make a fire without burning wheat straw or coal was very tall in those days.

When I was a child, I had a small electric stove at home. For some reason, my mother seldom uses it, and hides it every time she uses it, making me feel like a thief.

Once, my mother was in a hurry to go to a meeting. At that time, there was a meeting every night in the countryside. I think meetings at that time were usually divided into work points, and my mother was naturally very active.

As usual, my mother, who was in a hurry to go out, wanted to hide the electric stove. However, this hiding does not matter, but it almost caused a disaster.

On the eve of my mother's departure, the power went out. At that time, the power outage was basically anytime and anywhere, and no one would investigate the cause of the power outage. It stopped when the power went out, that's all. Even my mother, who hurried out after the power failure, did not forget to put on safety clothes for the electric stove. In other words, mother covered the electric stove with thick cardboard and then left in a hurry. However, in her hurry, she forgot to unplug the electric stove.

My sister and I played horseback riding and somersaults on the kang for a while, then we were tired and fell asleep.

I suddenly felt red in my eyes and burnt hair in my nose during my sleep. I slowly opened my eyes and saw my sister naked, standing in front of the door and shaking hard. I almost slept in the fire. ...

I don't know how I behaved. I guess I joined my sister's yelling and knocking at the door. My grandmother has fallen asleep. After being awakened by us, she quickly woke up grandpa and dad. So they Qi Xin worked together to kick open the locked door outside and quickly put out the fire in the room before we settled down again.

High-end gadgets such as electric stoves and kerosene stoves were naturally not the mainstream of that era. At that time, the main force of cooking was the bellows, and when I was a child, I was pointed at by adults to pull the bellows. And the word fire, in my opinion, should be related to bellows.

Speaking of it, the bellows seems to have no technical content, but it is not without it. For example, it is easy for old people to burn a fire, and the intensity is symmetrical, so the fire is more serious and lasting. When we children light a fire, we often pull it hard and then jump out to play when adults are not looking. When we think of lighting a fire, when we come back, we may have put out the fire under the stove.

What fire naturally needs is the even and gentle strength and speed of the old people, not the gust of wind when the children are working. This is also like a fan in summer. A fast and hard fan often can't cool us down, but it is a slow and gentle fan method, which is more suitable for cooling down.

The above is about burning fire. Let's talk about the necessary procedure before starting a fire with technical content-starting a fire. There is no doubt that there are good and bad bellows, but basically, everyone will see that making a fire is far from simple. So, for a long time, I only knew how to make a fire. After a long time, I learned how to make a fire, but my skills were average.

The process of making a fire is generally like this. First, clean up all the ashes of the stove after cooking the day before, exposing the furnace teeth below, then put in some soft and dry wheat straw, light it with paper, then put in some dry and good coal, and slowly pull the bellows to let the wheat straw burn coal. If this process is well grasped, it will be successful once. If you don't grasp it well, it will be covered with coal ash again and again, sometimes, but the fire won't last long.

Naturally, when I first learned to make a fire, I always couldn't grasp the temperature, so the fire never came out. Not only is there no fire, but the whole kitchen is often filled with smoke, and I am even wet by it. Sometimes, for this rage, it is really a snot and a tear.

Big brother is willing to use his head since he was a child, so his fire is often the best. Maybe you will be surprised that you don't understand the difference between fire and fire. It's actually quite simple. Just look at the size of the cold briquette after the fire is finally put out.

This big briquette naturally heats up quickly in the pot, heats up quickly in the pot and cooks quickly in the natural rice. Besides, big brother often uses less coal and more ash to make a fire. Unlike us, wasting coal takes time and time. Actually, the difference lies in the skill of making a fire.

I remember when I was in primary school, and my eldest brother, who was ten years older than me, had already gone to college. During the winter vacation in college, when my eldest brother comes home, he will also get into the kitchen to help make a fire.

It's always cold in the countryside in winter. At that time, people's weapon against the cold at night was a hot kang. When cooking during the day, the stove is undoubtedly a warmer place.

Eldest brother took the lead in walking into the ice pan and cold stove in the kitchen and lit a fire. The fire got angry, so I took a small bench and sat in front of the stove to warm myself. Eldest brother took the opportunity to teach me how to make the fire better and more prosperous.

In the burning ashes of the stove, many treasures are often dug up, sometimes roasted sweet potatoes and sometimes roasted corn. Once, I successfully made a baked eggplant with a stove. At that time, I loved to eat fried corn. I often fry some corn peas for myself with a small and long spoon on the fire of the stove, and then eat them happily.

When I was in the fourth grade of primary school, I went to my grandmother's house to study and saw her small earthen stove.

Grandma lives alone all the year round, so her stove is small and made of earth paste. For some reason, grandma's small earthen stove is not connected to the manual bellows, so when grandma cooks, the kitchen is often filled with smoke.

At that time, I sometimes went out with my grandmother. On my way home, my grandmother will pick up a dead branch and a corn cob as treasures. In children's nature, I may like to imitate, because at that time, I was deeply influenced by my grandmother, and I also liked to collect firewood when I was walking on the road. Therefore, like my grandmother, I became an out-and-out "firewood fan"

Grandma Chai Fan's earthen stove has no bellows, so sometimes the firewood is not strong, or the wind is wrong, and the whole yard smells of smoke. As for the kitchen, it goes without saying. At that time, grandma's only weapon was her mouth. The only way to deal with it is to blow it with your mouth.

The year grandma left, it was exactly eighty. My 80-year-old grandmother has been gone for 22 years, but when I think of her earthen stove, her image seems to come alive in front of me at once.

Grandma sitting on a low stool often bends over and tilts her head, changing her angle from time to time and blowing hard at the dying fire. When grandma blows, the smoke in the furnace goes out. Grandma faces the smoke and her eyes are often filled with tears. Grandma's eyes often turn red after dinner.

Grandma's eyes have been red since I can remember. This is naturally related to mental pain, but this hard cooking process can't be said, it should be another reason for grandma's long-term red eye.

Grandma in her later years was taken by her mother to live with our family. Grandma Feet, in order not to be "idle" at her daughter's house, has been tightly occupying the work of "making a fire" in the kitchen.

At that time, in rural areas, people mostly used blowers, that is to say, cooking didn't need to pull bellows, but the work of adding wood and coal still needed manpower, so the position of grandma was also indispensable.

The year before grandma left, she finally moved into the new house built by her uncle, which was very important to her. However, the poor grandmother died just as her new life began to beckon.

Life is sometimes like the sharpest knife, which is cut at will in our hearts, whether we promise or not.

When my grandmother left, it was1June 1992 1 1. At the end of February of the following year, 1993, my energetic father, who was only 55 years old, left us unexpectedly. Today, my father has been gone for 2 1 year, but when I think of that moment, my eyes will still be wet when I go back.

When I was in high school, there was a TV at home. Although it was small and colorless, it still attracted me at that time.

My mother was always annoyed at that time. As long as I linger in front of the TV for a while, she will keep nagging me, thinking that I don't study and scolding me for my lack of ambition. Naturally, even if I continue to sit in front of the TV, it is hard for me to be happy. However, my father didn't do it. My dad said, "Forget it, let the baby rest at home on weekends, and it will be fine if he dies of study."

My father's understanding words made my face light up, but my mother was opinionated. She didn't change her education view because of my father's words, and she still stared at me, which really annoyed me. However, it didn't take long for me to discover my mother's weakness.

At that time, my father bought a beautiful big white tin stove for my family. In winter, the stove is placed in the bedroom, which can keep warm and cook. The biggest difference between this stove and other small stoves is that there is a big oven on one side of its body.

You can bake steamed bread, sweet potato and corn in it. The baked products are clean in appearance and brown inside and outside, which is very different from those baked with furnace ashes before, and I like them very much. On weekends, I sat in front of the stove, staring at the TV program, and said to my mother, "Mom, I'm hungry and want to eat baked sweet potatoes (steamed bread)." Then my mother happily brought me steamed bread or sweet potato, and I pretended to be hungry, eagerly sitting in front of the stove, waiting to eat my baked steamed bread or sweet potato. ...

It was very effective to deal with my mother, and I almost won, but I watched a lot of TV programs quietly and peacefully while waiting for dinner. I know that for my food, my mother will definitely not "noisy" in my ear, which is also her "weakness".

I was very lively when I was a child, and my father was good at making friends. In winter, my father's room is often crowded, and I have to squeeze some space in the corner of my father's room, and then pretend to do my homework while sticking my ear to the laughter of a group of adults.

My sister came in and yelled at me, "What are you pretending to be? There are so many people here, I don't believe you can learn. " My sister asked me to study in another quiet room, but I refused, saying, "I want to study here." This room has a stove and is very warm! " "

Our argument was heard by my father. He criticized my sister unhappily and said, "Eva is studying very well here. Why did you scold her? "

Father has always been the absolute authority in the family. Now that my father has spoken, I naturally have a backer, and my sister can only go away. ...

Those beautiful days that passed away like running water and planets, why not start over? If everything could be done all over again, wouldn't it be great?

Time is like a sharp knife, which keeps spitting in my heart. It takes away my grandmother, my grandmother, my grandfather, and then my young and capable father. ...

After my father left, my mother and my second brother lived together in a huge home. Soon, my second brother moved into the county, but my mother didn't want to leave her old house and her village. So for a long time, my mother was the only one at home.

My mother was young at that time. The young mother joined the yangko team in the village during the slack season and helped her relatives do farm work during the busy season. She lived a full life.

During this period, many people also used gas stoves, and even in the village, there is a place where they can change gas. So, when I went home again, I bought a gas cooker for my mother to make her life more convenient.

Later, because the second sister-in-law opened a shop in the county, she was too busy to attend to, so her mother had to give up her short free time and go to the second brother's house to help with some housework. At this time, her mother slowly and skillfully learned to use new household "weapons" such as gas stoves and pressure cookers.

However, in winter, my mother still seems to love honeycomb briquet stoves more and often likes to stew meat with them. Once, my brother's grandson was about to have a full moon, and my mother was busy frying meat on the honeycomb briquet stove while my brother and sister-in-law were away. As a result, she was accidentally scalded by oil, and her hand was swollen like a big bread. ...

Nowadays, my mother, who has poor legs and feet, still likes to be busy in the kitchen. I called her yesterday and asked her, "Mom, what are you busy with?" Said, "The steaming wheat rice in the kitchen ..."

These two years, I always feel that my mother's health is not as good as before. Before, I was most afraid of my mother's nagging; Now, I am most afraid of my mother's silence. Before, I always hoped that my mother would do less work; Now, I always want my mother to be busy, so when I hear her say "playing mahjong" or "cooking", I feel at ease, but if she says "sleeping" weakly, it will make me uneasy.

My mother is an ordinary rural woman. In this life, besides doing farm work and working as a female worker, the place where she stayed the longest was the kitchen. However, my mother said, "As long as I can move, I like to cook by myself, and I don't like others to cook."

Mother doesn't like eating out, for fear of unsanitary; Mother doesn't like other people's cooking and says it tastes wrong. However, if there are leftovers at home, my mother will always be more enthusiastic about eating and say, "Hey, don't pour that" and "Hey, keep that."

My mother lives in my eldest brother's house, and the eldest brother said, "Hey, this mother is so easy to feed. Just' water' (the sauce left after eating food) is enough for her to eat." Mom likes this kind of joke, because at this time, mom often laughs like a flower on her face.

Nowadays, in my hometown, the hand-held bellows have almost disappeared, and people related to bellows and fire in my memory have left me one after another. Even if we regret, even if we are sad, we can't reverse the river of time. What we can do is to learn to cherish life more and be more kind to everyone around us, especially the elderly.