Prose of nostalgia

Prose is a narrative literary genre that expresses the author's true feelings and flexible writing style. The following is my collection of essays on rural feelings, welcome to check! Prose on Hometown 1

The whole city is immersed in the festive mood. People on the streets are beaming and hurrying, or wandering in department stores to buy new clothes, or wandering in farmers' markets to buy new year's goods. They seem to have completely forgotten the fatigue and excitement of traveling. Especially in the evening, the high-rise buildings are covered with strange high-tech colored lights, neon lights and shadows. The dazzling lights will make the huge city shine like day, which is very dazzling. I have entered the age of no doubt, and I can't help being deeply infected by this colorful scenery, and my homesickness arises spontaneously.

"I miss my relatives twice every festive season". It has been more than twenty years since I left my hometown. I seldom go home because of the complicated chores of work and family, and even the number of telephone greetings is few and far between. I feel sorry for my relatives and friends in my hometown. However, the grass and trees in my hometown, the local accent and nostalgia are deeply retained in my memory, and I can't erase them. I only carefully hold them out every year and chew them.

My hometown is in the countryside, a not-so-remote village, where a group of hardworking, simple and honest farmers have worked hard for generations. I spent nineteen years in beginning of life. Chinese New Year in rural areas is much more festive and ostentatious than in cities. Because it is slack season, the whole first month is regarded as Chinese New Year. On the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, the Chinese New Year begins.

I remember when I was a child, New Year pictures were hung on the walls, which were nothing more than big and fat dolls, fish, birds and the goddess of wealth. The windows were also covered with window flowers cut with magpies, so Spring Festival couplets were indispensable. Even the pigsty was plastered with couplets of "Fat pigs are full of circles, and there are more than one year". Tall wooden poles were erected in the yard, and red lanterns were hung. A lot of new year's goods have also been prepared. Although the variety is single, it is very rich. There is a big vat in the yard, which contains enough pork to eat for a month and homemade frozen tofu. When one's brother or neighbor kills a pig, a large family must first sacrifice the pig's head to the ancestor's altar, then make their own blood sausage, boil their own skin and freeze it, and stew sauerkraut, white meat, blood sausage and pig offal in a large pot. The delicious taste instantly fills the whole village, enough for you to remember for a lifetime.

Adults look forward to the New Year because they hope to have a good harvest in the coming year, while children look forward to the New Year because they want to put on beautiful new clothes at the bottom of the closet and eat a few delicious meals unscrupulously. The most lively thing is that on New Year's Eve, the family sat on the heatable adobe sleeping platform eating the New Year's Eve and watching the Spring Festival Gala. Just after ten o'clock, firecrackers were already everywhere outside the window, and firecrackers of various styles, such as kicking two feet, flashing thunder and drilling monkeys, were fired into the sky with loud noises. The silent and dark night sky was instantly torn apart by firecrackers, so the whole sky became like a rainbow with bright stars. According to the elders, whose firecrackers were set off? After the firecrackers were set off, the children of our family naturally gathered together and went to the elders' homes to pay New Year greetings and ask for money. Therefore, "Happy New Year, Happy New Year" was heard in the streets and lanes, which was not only a New Year's blessing but also people's expectation for a better life. The whole first month will be spent happily in this peaceful holiday atmosphere.

for more than twenty years, I have lived in this bustling metropolis and lived a prosperous life, but I always can't give up my attachment to my hometown, my concern for my loved ones, the simple and kind villagers, those innocent childhood playmates, the local accent and the nostalgia, which are entangled in my dream from time to time.

Chinese New Year is coming, I want to go home, home ... 2

It's been more than 3 years since I was far away from my hometown and bid farewell to my hometown. However, the grass and trees in my hometown, the field roads, the sky is blue and the clouds are light, the simple folk customs, the stars in the night, the stacks of wheat straw in the wheat field, and the corn stalks and fields left by the roadside after the harvest in late autumn.

My hometown is located in Guanxi Mansion, belonging to Zhao Gong Town, Fufeng County, under the jurisdiction of Baoji, with convenient transportation, rich products and outstanding people. Where there is my homeland, there are the simplicity, kindness, kindness and strong local accent of the northwest man and the childhood memories, the magnificent relics of zhouyuan site and the customs of Shang and Zhou cultures, and the echoes of the morning bells and drums of Famen Temple in the prosperous Tang Dynasty.

I left my hometown because my father was working outside, and we were still young and had no labor at home. In desperation, my father solved the hukou according to the policy, and we got a city hukou. When we left, we said goodbye to the neighbors in the village. The villagers were reluctant to part with tears in their eyes, holding their mother's hand and urging us to walk to the entrance of the village. When we saw the figure of the villagers fading away, our 4-year-old mother was the most sad and emotional at that time. After all, this is the homeland where her mother lived for most of her life. There are joys and sorrows of her lost youth and life, and there are also old people and brothers and sisters who are reluctant to part with her. Her mother is so long.

In my hometown in my memory, because there were few recreational activities in the past, people just worked at sunrise and rested at sunset all day, repeating tedious and laborious farm work, and were busy in the fields all day, but only got a little rations by the end of the year. Life can be said to be hard and dull, but they are always happy as always.

As far as I am concerned, my best childhood memory is looking forward to leaving school early on Saturday. Several good playmates went to the wheat field at the head of the village to play rough, waiting to see an open-air movie or follow my mother to the west of the village. There is a stone mill in the west of the village. My mother baked her own peppers with fire in advance, put them on the stone roller, and the covered donkey circled rhythmically for a period of time. The playmates took out the already prepared roasted pot helmet, sprinkled salt on it, and smeared it with ground chili pepper sauce. It tasted natural and mellow. For us in the past, although we were sweating and shaking our limbs, it was the best delicacy to satisfy our cravings.

Summer is busy and autumn harvest is the busiest season in my hometown, and it is also the day when the villagers are most happy and looking forward to it. I have been busy for half a year, which is a beautiful season for harvesting and returning the grains to the warehouse. There is a scene of harvest and joy everywhere in the farmhouse yard. Under the eaves of the courtyard, the tree forks are full of buns and red persimmons, and the granary in the house is full of wheat. This is also the harvest and result of the villagers' hard work for a year, although they are tired.

Seeing that the weather is getting cold and the footsteps of winter are approaching, it seems that there were many opportunities for snow in the past. At first glance, it was plain, covered with mountains and plains, white and snowy, especially cold. The roads between the villages seem to be pitiful, and there are roads, which are also dirt roads. In the snow, people only rely on impressions to follow the footprints of others and rush to their homes in memory. This season, for the villagers, is the most leisurely and comfortable day. White smoke rises from the roofs of every household, a fire rises, a hot kang burns, and the work in the farmland is freezing. It's time to have a good rest and rest.

I remember when I was a child, at this season, my grandmother would go to my aunt's house for ten days and a half months. My grandmother was a small foot, so I became her crutch. In the past, the traffic was inconvenient, and it was more than ten miles away. Grandma and I stop and go, and it takes several hours to get to Yangjiling Township where my aunt is located. In my aunt's house, the deepest memory is that my aunt got up early every day to scoop a bowl of soybeans for tofu, led me to the tofu shop, and ordered tofu from the brine that just came out of the pot. The master used a spoon to dig a bowl of tofu that had just come out of the pot, that is, tofu pudding, and put up the garlic juice and oil at home. At that time, there was a faint bitterness between the lips and teeth and a strong fragrance of old tofu, which felt really pure.

When winter comes, I look forward to the market and the meeting in the town. At this time, all the business people in the neighborhood set up tents, occupied stalls and set up pots and pans in advance. What I can't forget most is the mutton buns in my hometown market. In the past, although the family was not rich, my mother always got up early every time she went to the market, branded the steamed buns, went to a pot of hot mutton soup at the top of the market, and improved our lives for our sisters. We had to eat it quietly, for fear that our neighbors would make irresponsible remarks. After all, the living conditions in the past were still not good. Fortunately, my father worked outside and the family was able to help. At that time, I felt that my sisters were the happiest, and my mother was the warmest. Now I still remember it from time to time.

My mother is a good worker. Although it is a slack winter, she can't be idle at all. Every winter, my mother always lights kerosene lamps, either spinning or weaving and taking the soles of shoes. In the dead of night, I can always hear the creaking of spinning wheels and the thumping of my mother's feet on looms and shuttles in the old house. White cloth is woven. Every market time, several aunts come, and no one can be idle.

Throughout the year, my mother sewed the underwear, cloth shoes, soles and sheets on the kang. My mother was not stingy. When she left, she gave some to each of her sisters. How sad it is to think of it. Unfortunately, my mother has left us forever. I can only bury this beautiful memory in my deep memory forever, and place my heartfelt grief on my mother.

In the twelfth lunar month, after Laba, the countryside, farmyard, everywhere has the flavor of the New Year. In the countryside, in the small courtyard next door, those with better conditions began to hang vermicelli, dry noodles, kill pigs and fry oil pans, and made every effort to treat their families and themselves who had worked hard for a year and prepare to entertain relatives and friends with new year's goods.

At last, on the eve of the New Year's Eve, the taste of the year is even more full. stick grilles posted couplets, posted door-to-door gods, set off firecrackers, and added offerings to the kitchen god. At the time of the league member, regardless of the good or bad relationship between brothers in the past year, when it is time to eat the New Year's Eve, the brothers should each prepare a dish in their own homes, lead their daughters-in-law, children, even simple frozen pork vermicelli, a bottle of high-necked xifeng liquor, and so on. After the old man handed out the lucky money, the brothers all sat cross-legged on the hot kang and gathered around the small kang table to talk about the housework at home. They looked forward to a good year, a good harvest, a full house of children and grandchildren, and a happy new year.

On the first day of New Year's Day, the village is peaceful and festive. Neighbors wish each other and say hello to the New Year, which indicates that the new year has arrived. People begin to visit relatives and friends, and there are more people visiting relatives and friends on the road. Women's headscarves and lanterns in their hands are particularly conspicuous, which is particularly festive in the snow.

After visiting relatives, it's time to get busy again. Every door is hung with red lanterns, and the courtyard is no exception. It's filled with vegetable oil, with wicks, with various candles carved from carrots, and with steamed buns of various animal shapes, which are bright everywhere. On the 15th day, the town organized, villagers spontaneously, played social fire, walked on stilts, set up a stage to sing a big drama, and washed away the hard work of one year in various ways. As the spring approaches, there are many villagers who are busy in the fields and country roads, working hard and looking forward to the new year.

things in memory are always unforgettable, just like an old wall calendar, and I occasionally want to look through it to find the memory of lost years and memories of the past. The memory of my hometown is a pot of old wine, which is mellow and delicious, and always has an inexhaustible taste. The memory of my hometown is also a picture of my heart that can never be described, because there are my roots in the same blood, the source of my life and my support, and the deep nostalgia and the faint nostalgia in my memory.