The story of three willow families

I was born in Xiangyang village at the southernmost tip of Ningxia. On the top of the mountain in the village, three willows stand at intervals, like three guardians of the village.

These three old willows stand upright beside the threshing floor. They are luxuriant in foliage, like giant umbrellas spread by immortals, suffering from three beautiful morning glories. From summer to autumn, heaven is under the tree. I remember when I was a child, we liked to climb the trunk and play among the "flowers". A few people branch, leaning on it, can play cards or read picture books. More interestingly, we moved clods and things like that into the stamens and threw them at our friends below. A few others put their modest fists to their mouths, held their heads high, played trumpets and shouted "DuDu" and "Shout". Blow very seriously and hard. In my childhood dreams, the dense branches and leaves that stretched out into the blue sky turned into elegant catkins. Do it all over the sky in the spring breeze. Miscellaneous willow leaves and leaves are reflected and baked into another world.

I once asked the oldest person in the village about the origin of these three trees. The old man stroked his long white beard and searched for me in the warehouse of memory for a long time. He said slowly and painfully that he couldn't remember. He had these three willows when he was very young. But he heard from his father's grandfather that these trees are very old. In the Qing Dynasty, our ancestors were moved to this place. An old man found half a mountain and five willow saplings and planted them on the side of the road. Now all we see are these three willows, and the other two were cut down by the old man with heartache. As for why he had to cut it, the bearded grandfather himself can't remember clearly. He gave many statements, but he couldn't verify and determine which statement was correct. In this way, the reason why these two willows were cut down seems to be a mystery.

Not long after, a famous writer from the city came to this village to collect folk songs. He admired these three willows very much, and turned around them again and again, a little fondle admiringly. He asked me about the origin of these three trees, which I didn't know at that time. Maybe it's because my grandfather with a long white beard didn't explicitly approve of me. At that time, he made a suggestion that has amazed me so far. He said that Xiangyang Village would be changed into Sanshu Liucun Village. I didn't think deeply at that time, but now I think about it, it is indeed a particularly good suggestion.

We like these three willows, as if they like farmers. What is unforgettable is the harvest of wheat in autumn. By that time, these three willows, like a huge natural umbrella, will greet the farmers who are tired from the wheat fields below her to catch their breath and stretch their enthusiasm. The grinding time is the solar term. The sun is burning the earth like fire, and dogs stick out their long tongues and climb to the ground. This land seems to be like a cauldron red-hot by flames. In this study, only these three tall willows supported a huge umbrella to resist the heat and provide shade for farmers. Farmers are also very rude to them, squatting, or holding their own small benches, wiping sweat and drinking tea under three busy willows. In the evening, after a busy day's farm work, people bring their own small benches, or choose a slate, broken bricks and the like as small benches to enjoy the evening breeze. Old people also get together to tell old stories, ramble on jokes and talk about the growth and harvest of crops.

The gloomy willow, with its magic, calls the farmers to kneel down to her, regardless of spring, summer, autumn and winter. Below her, there are always some restless farmers laughing. She has no regrets, silently opens her huge umbrella and cares for hardworking and simple farmers with infinite love.

However, now it has become my memory. The bearded grandfather who told me stories has passed away. I seem to be alone in a foreign land, and I don't know when I can see those three old willows that cover the village again. Childhood friends, now three Liu Xia, can you still remember what I looked like when I was young? Three trees also protect them, right? I grew up in the arms of three willows. Will they know that they miss them in a foreign land? Will they miss the wanderers outside like loving mothers?