Appreciation of Bai Yaowen's Prose in "Autumn Notes"

If the four seasons are a gorgeous book, autumn must be the most colorful, lyrical, mature, and open-ended part. Every wild animal in autumn, every wild flower, every grain, every crop, every handful of soil... are the most touching details on the earth, with the unique aura and familiar taste of the season.

Fields

The fields in autumn look like a pregnant mother. Under the high sky, the growing crops surrendered themselves to the autumn wind, turning yellow every minute and every second, becoming plump and mature, and their figures were clearly revealed. The rice seedlings in the terraced fields are no longer as graceful as before. Their hearts are beating. They lower their heads and whisper to each other, telling the secrets they have treasured for a long time - the air is filled with the smell of maturity. The scent of the fragrant grains in the fields floats along the winding loess road to the village. The farmers waved their crescent-shaped sickles, cutting through all the themes of autumn. They leaned forward, holding the rice grains in their arms, sorting out bundles of joy; they bent down, following the guidance of the vines, and brought back the potatoes; they stood in the cornfield in the posture of corn. Inside, peel off the orange hope. Sorghum, soybeans, sunflowers, and pumpkins are all stained with the powder of sunshine and rain—these are gifts of nature, but also considerations of sweat and hardship. After the autumn harvest, the earth experienced the pain of childbirth and became weak and haggard. A cold wind blew through the mountains, rivers, and fields without restraint. Everything returned to calm. This is the end of a grand banquet, and the fields are just fields. A gray-haired hare was in a panic and its identity and whereabouts were revealed as soon as it appeared. Sparrows, pheasants, pheasants, turtledoves and crows, these elves between the sky and the earth, are full of fear and cry out sad tones from morning to night. Each song contains desolate and heart-wrenching words. .

Sparrows and Gophers

Some animals, like humans, do not stop in autumn. The chirping of sparrows weaves a large harvest net. You see, they are all dressed in coarse cloth, they are in groups, they are playful and noisy. Sometimes, they are simply a bunch of "local bandits" - the best at "taking advantage of the situation." Not to mention the scarecrow wearing a tattered shirt (called "Old Scared Man" in the countryside), even if you stand on the ground and yell and throw dirt, they will still turn a deaf ear - fly away with a "boom" and land on the branches. They scold you, laugh at you, and wink at you; then they swoop down onto the ears of grain or millet with a "boom" sound, accurately and without missing a beat, and then they feast. Compared to the sparrows who do it blatantly in broad daylight, the gophers get a piece of the pie in secret. At night, they crawl out of the cave, tiptoe onto the tall corn stalks, use their long teeth to break open the husks of the corn cobs, and have a hearty meal first. Then he bites a corn kernel, jumps off, and moves back to his cramped bedroom. Repeated like this, I don’t know how many times. Each corn cob is a golden poem, with brilliant light shining on the grains. The gophers didn't ask for much, just a small pile, as big as two human fists, and they spent the whole winter chewing on these meaningful lines of poetry. Sometimes, these fools forget where the storage room is and are at a loss as to what to do. When we plow the land next spring, we will smile when we see the grain buried by these little things in the ground.

Potatoes

I want to talk about potatoes alone. It comes from distant South America, and the villagers call it "Yam Egg". It has a rustic appearance and does not have a noble bloodline. It is not as tall and graceful as sorghum and corn, nor as modest and cautious as millet grain. It hides under the soil and competes with itself. When it blooms, it is all white, and the shape of the flowers has no beauty. Our villagers are very interesting. They don't talk about harvesting potatoes, but they say "peeling potatoes", just like digging out lumps of gold ingots. The old harpoon head was raised high, accompanied by a dull sound, like a key that opened a mysterious door, and a nest of potatoes was revealed to the world. The big potatoes, with their belly straight out, were proud of themselves; while the small potatoes were hiding around, feeling a little embarrassed. These potatoes have been crawling and rolling in the soil since they were young, and they have shouldered the burden of life as they grow up. The fate of potatoes can be described as bumpy, which was brilliantly discussed in Adam Smith's "The Wealth of Nations". Tracing back to the history of potato cultivation, at first it was shackled and handcuffed, and was not welcomed by people. Some people even believe that potatoes look "like the hands of a leper" and can transmit leprosy to humans. What changed the fate of potatoes was an unprecedented famine.

Potatoes were finally accepted. Its easy-to-grow and prolific nature determines its compassionate nature.

Threshing floor

Autumn graduation thesis is laid out on the threshing floor. This is the busiest place in autumn. If the land carries people's hopes for a year, then the courtyard is a solemn and sacred examination room. Farmers either picked it up, carried it on their shoulders, carried it on their backs or carried it, and piled the collected crops on their yards. Now, millet, millet, sorghum, and soybeans are piled up all around. These crops grew from seeds into food and finally completed their mission. They lay and lay limply, gasping for air. For farmers, this stacking method is simple and direct, and full of beauty. The joy of the harvest continues into the next year. From harvesting and transporting in the fields to threshing on the threshing floor and returning to the warehouse, they put their best effort into every aspect without daring to slack off. But sometimes, harvest failure is unavoidable. Drought, cold rain, hail, and strong winds are all barbaric invaders, rampant and unreasonable. In autumn, facing dead flowers and withered branches, under the laws of nature, you no longer have the slightest strength to sow seeds again.

Haystack

Haystack is an objective physical existence in autumn. It is round, plump, elastic, and smells sweet of hay. In the Fugu area to the north of northern Shaanxi, people often build haystacks in the shape of a saddle, with space underneath for one or two people. People vividly call it "Mi Anzi". When the skyline cuts off the canvas of sunset, and the setting sun casts its last affectionate glance at the earth, these haystacks turn red and darken, and the tone changes from warm to cold... In the countryside, haystacks are also a place of warmth and ambiguity. Those men and women, those feelings and love, those dreams and longings, those uneasy emotions and heart impulses, have risen and flourished here many times, ignited and released by the enthusiasm of autumn... and then gradually dispersed along with the glow and afterglow. Go and disappear into the endless darkness of the countryside.

Autumn Rain

An autumn rain falls in scattered pieces. It is restrained, deep, calm, neither impatient nor impetuous, like an overwhelming curtain that suddenly cuts off the clues of the change of seasons. The autumn rain falls on the remaining flowers, leaves and grass. These plants and trees gather the raindrops into a crystal clear pearl, never hiding it, but holding it - they remember the kindness of the rain in their hearts. The last trace of heat on the earth was extinguished by the autumn rain, and the falling leaves drifted in the rain. On the wild valley on the hillside, a bush of wild chrysanthemums is bathed in the autumn rain. The golden flower bones are densely packed, and some petals that bloomed earlier are stretched in the rain. After two more rains, she will gradually open the umbrella house in the cold autumn, and the frost will bloom. Autumn rain is the wings of autumn, returning to the earth in a slow falling way. Under the wings of autumn rain, the vicissitudes of the earth returned to silence.

Trees

Those trees, bathed in sunshine and rain from spring to summer, grow quietly. The autumn wind lurks behind midsummer. The trees stand proudly in the wind, knowing the secrets of wind, rain, thunder and lightning. In late autumn, they are greeted by the hard autumn wind, and the leaves turn from green to yellow and red as if overnight. The Loess Plateau immediately burst into flames, as if it was about to ignite the silent plateau. Countless fallen leaves are flying and dancing in the wind. This is a grand carnival between the trees and the earth. This is a handover ceremony, completely based on the laws and language of nature, no small talk, straight to the point. Leaves come from the earth, and their final destination is also the earth. In the coming year, the trees will sprout new buds, unfold, and then turn from green to yellow and drift away again. At this time next year, everything will be as before, as if nothing has happened.