Miss the smoke from the kitchen outside Liangwai in my hometown.

"Warm and distant village, the smoke in the Yi market". For many years, no matter where I go or how far I go, I always think of the wisps of kitchen smoke floating over my hometown. Some people laugh at us outsiders, and we will cry even if we can't see the smoke hole at home. In my opinion, it is our nostalgia for our hometown. Smoke from kitchen chimneys curled up, and the smell of hometown, the smell of home and the warmth of home floated in.

Cooking smoke is a symbol of the countryside, and it is the rural aunts who have sketched this pattern. The faint glow of the sun has just been edged with a Phnom Penh by the morning light, and women get up in the dark [x and x and s ū s ū]. The first thing to do is to poke the stove to make a fire and cook. As a result, high and low chimneys emitted smoke one after another, and the whole village was rendered. At first, it was faint, faint, such as fog and yarn. After a while, it was winding and graceful until the light clouds went straight to the sky. Some are thick and heavy, like clouds dragging the ground. The fire must have gone out last night, and wet wood was lit in the stove.

My chimney is often the first one to smoke in the village. At that time, my father was working outside, and everything at home was arranged by my mother. Both my brother and sister went to school and went to a nearby school. My mother thinks this is a big deal, and it must not be affected. Therefore, no matter how late I go to bed, even in a few cold winters, my mother will get up early, light the stove with the dim light of a small oil lamp, and warm up the cold earthen house, so that it won't be too cold when we get up. The stove over there has also been lit, and the pot in front is our breakfast millet and melon porridge or glutinous rice and yam stew. Although simple, but absolutely hungry, we can't eat the last meal until grandma falls down. Dried pork, such as yam, radish, turnip, yam skin, etc., is cooked in the back pot. Sometimes, in order to hurry, dried pork will be covered with a layer of Hosta, Chinese yam and pumpkin eggs. It's breakfast when it's ready. The smoke in my kitchen must be filled with the strong smell of yam eggs, Hosta seeds and old melons.

At dusk, the smoke rose again. After a day's work, the farmers have long been physically and mentally exhausted and need to replenish their energy. Therefore, farmhouse meals are much richer than in the morning. Mother-in-law is still busy, and she is already thinking of cooking something decent and delicious for men and children on her way back. So, ding-ding, choking hot water, even a bowl of sour porridge should be smeared with sesame oil, choking Zhameng's Huaer pepper and Xiao Jian pepper. In the cool breeze, the smoke in the kitchen has also become leisurely, blending with the tar smell rising from the men's dry cigarette pots and the rice fragrance floating in the house, curling up and having a unique charm.

The children came back from school, eating boiled corn or steamed yam cooked by their mother in the pot, using reeds to find wild vegetables and weeds for pigs and sheep, or a group of friends playing wildly at the head of the village, in the Woods and by the river. Seeing the smoke from the kitchen in the village, I knew it was time to go home, or my mother would stand on a high place and call her name anxiously. If you are a returning wanderer, you may feel a sense of urgency in anxious to return when you look at the smoke.

Singles and five-guarantee households in the village also seldom smoke. If a person is cold and cheerless, he will be hungry, full, cold and have food. There is no future, no hope, and there is naturally no fireworks when you are alive.

When I was a child, I came home from school and looked at the chimney at home from the top of the mountain. If the smoke is curling up, it means that mother is waiting for us at home and cooking for us, and she will feel a different kind of warmth in her heart. If I don't see the smoke, my heart will panic and there will be thousands of inexplicable guesses. Cooking and smoking is my mother's decision.

The setting sun gradually receded, the smoke from the kitchen rose, and even the chickens, dogs and pigs came home on time and knew about the fireworks.

Cooking smoke is the totem of the countryside, and there is a kitchen god deeply worshipped by the people in cooking smoke. Every year, in the early morning of the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, before making a fire, the kitchen god should be sacrificed first. There is a song that says, "Every year, every family is busy, and people are king on the 23rd. There are two tables in the middle, two plates of sugar and a bowl of black beans and hay water on both sides, and a fragrance burns in the furnace. The owner of this family came to congratulate him and wish him good luck. " Then, choose the cleanest soil and renovate the stove. Some people even have to clean up the kang cave and chimney, give the kitchen god a brand-new home, and make the smoke smoother. Otherwise, it will be laughed at by others: the smoke stove collapsed and the sick wife fell asleep on the kang.

The roof of the farmer's house outside the beam is close to the hill, and strangers will think it is a small piece of flat land if they don't pay attention. When I was young, we troublemakers would play all kinds of games and even play pranks on the roofs of the roadside. We blocked the chimney next door with a broken earthen basin, hid in the distance and watched the smoke spewing out from the open windows and door panels, and fled in the pursuit and shouting of our parents.

Now that I have lived in kangbashi, a new city, it's hard to see the smoke curling up. But the smoke from my hometown will always wander in my dreams and will always be the call of my family.

Homesick, take a look at the smoke in the small village, where your parents are waiting for you to go home.

Ordos news network