Hometown Prose in Dream

My hometown is in the west of Guanzhong, Shaanxi Province, and it is an ordinary small village in Weibei. On the Weibei Plateau, there are many such small villages, which are staggered and lined up on the Yuan Ye between the lush Qinling Mountains and the vast Qian Shan. Wei river is like a belt, and two mountains are like thunder, so they are fixed on this long and narrow fertile soil. These small villages are very similar, just like countless leaves on a big tree. You can hardly tell each other from a distance. However, my hometown is an extraordinary village, especially when it comes into my dream.

It's certainly my compliment to say that my hometown is a fairyland on earth, but it does have some beauty. A friend of mine once said that its location is a typical loess plateau landform with criss-crossing gullies, mountains and water. In fact, it is true that there is water. As for it having mountains, it depends on where you stand to see it. If you stand in the village and look out, there are really mountains and waters. The east and south of the village are high slopes that have been pulled up by tens of feet. The slope is steep and slow, ups and downs, and Lei Lei is indeed like a mountain; The roads leading to the east and south of the village all take the channel. After the magneto-optical dirt road drills into the cliff, only the head is seen, but the tail is not seen, which is vaguely like a dragon. I don't know when it came down: "Man struggles upwards, and water flows downwards". People in the village always rush to the heights when they want to go out. As a result, a white-light path winds along the height of the cliff and never sinks into the place where the cliff top meets the white clouds, which brings some picturesque meaning to the village. The gurgling Yonghe River came singing all the way, quietly drilling into the endless reeds behind our village, only smelling the sound of water, but not its glitter and splendor, adding a kind of poetry to the village.

Shaanxi Guanzhong is located in the cold temperate zone, where trees and weeds naturally flourish. The slopes on both sides are littered with mixed trees in twos and threes. Those trees will bloom suddenly, and when you look at a tree from a distance, it will smell fragrant. There is no exposed land on the slope, and all kinds of grass protect it all year round. In spring, the grass blooms quickly, and the slope changes color every three to five days: when the wild finch blooms, it is dressed in a purple robe, and when the dandelion blooms, it wears a yellow jacket again. Don't forget that the little white flowers bloom, and the high slope is changed into pink green. Forget-me-not's white flower is too small, which can only lighten the dignity of the green grass, but can't change its tone. On the contrary, it makes it more melancholy and dreamy.

the west of the village is very open, with only a few long mounds. Of course, Guanzhong is a place with an inch of land and an inch of gold, and that long mound is also a crop field. There are many kinds of millet, broomcorn millet, peas and buckwheat when the slope is short of water. Naturally, crops blossom in a much more magnificent way than weeds. In two or three days, large areas of land will be painted in one color, red, yellow and green, just like children's fighting flowers. I don't know from the back of a mound, a clear stream emerged, gurgling and clear, and arrived at the back of our village. This is the Yonghe River.

Yong River is an ancient river, which has opened a wide crack in the same ancient plateau with seemingly weak turbulent rapids. Later, the water potential became smaller, gradually shrinking into a clear stream and retreating to a corner of the river bed. The river bed that once carried the torrent is now covered with reeds, stretching for miles and lush. Reed is the companion of life. In spring, it takes in countless frogs with its lush green, making the restless frog drum knock out the dawn one by one. In summer, it will attract a bird called "Quack-quack" with dense green gauze tents, so that the cry of "quack-quack-quack" will accompany every day; In the late autumn, the reeds that fill the ditches and gaps hold the gray tassels high and sway in the cool breeze, which makes people feel infinite melancholy; In the snowy winter, the harvested reed field is the place where all animals need to find it. Pheasants, rabbits, badgers, foxes and wolves can find food here. Children who pick firewood can bring their dogs to harvest warmth and endless fun here.

in fact, what haunts me about my hometown is not all its natural beauty, but the incomparable warm atmosphere created by my parents.

At that time, all the people in my hometown used firewood to cook and burn Kang. At sunset, the smoke from cooking Kang came up. The gray smoke does not directly diffuse into the air. It first accumulates around the house, and then gathers around the village, permeating and transpiration, just like the white clouds seen from the plane porthole. At this time, from afar, the villages in uneven level seemed to be floating in the white clouds. The gradual reduction of sunlight makes all the bright colors on the Yuan Ye tend to be consistent, and finally unified into a gray like ink painting. When the weather is dry, the smoke will last until the bright moon rises; When there is plenty of rain, it will last until nightfall, and finally it will melt into the deepening dark night.

It's also the time to call it a day when the clouds begin to diffuse. Those folks who have worked in the fields all day will slowly walk to the village with plowshares on their backs. People and cows have worked hard all day, and only now can we enjoy the poetic realm of "the evening is over, and the cattle and sheep come down". The owners have no heart to drive away the cattle who are as tired as they are. As a result, some people will use the whip handle to knock on the plow share, and give a few words of acid misinterpretation to relieve fatigue. People who don't want to listen to sour songs will also sing a few words of Shaanxi opera out of tune. Those old cows are not willing to be lonely for a long time. From time to time, they will raise their heads and give a long and slow roar, just like singing with their owners. If it weren't for these two operas, during this period, you would even ignore the movement of farmers and oxen, and only appreciate the village floating on the white clouds, and only enjoy the beautiful scenery of harmony between man and nature. You will feel that you are in a fairyland, in an illusory mirage, and in an unparalleled pastoral painting.

Rainy days are farmers' days off. They are looking forward to rain, one for the crops, and the other for a rest. In the eyes of farmers, there are only two kinds of people, one is "workers" who have public holidays, and the other is farmers who only have "days off". On rainy days, they can temporarily put down their work and do what they want, just like workers take a vacation: women will take needlework or soak a lot of straws to find their companions and talk their minds while working; Men go to their friends, Hai Zhen, to listen to people talk about the past and the present, or to compete on the border of Chu River and Han River. Children are always the happiest. They will put on mud bricks, trudge in the glued mud like walking on stilts, go to their employers, visit their westerners, invite their partners, read picture books together, brag, and even push five dragons to win the game at 1: 3.

The cock crowed at noon, and the women hurried home to cook. Sister-in-law with children stood at the door of their house, calling for their children to come back and light the fire, while the young daughter-in-law set off into the kitchen. Then, with the "goo-dang" sound of a gust of wind, the smoke from the kitchen began to rise in the village. At this time, those young men who are newly married will consciously go home, but men who have children will still be me. When the meal is ready, the woman will ask the child to call Dad back. As a result, there is another kind of music in the village lane. Children who don't know whose father is standing outside their own doors are shouting in the air: "Dad ~ Ya ~, eat ~ rice ~ Li ~" and "Dad ~ Ya ~, eat ~ rice ~ Li ~". I was surprised at that time that the voices of these children were not much different, and why all the old people in the village could tell the person who called!

There is not much rain in Guanzhong, so it is rare to have a few days off in a year. People in the village often get together at dinner time. People in the last century called this form the old bowl party. Every meal season, people carry old bowls full of spoilers, leisurely turn out, gather in a certain place in the village, and tell their own news while eating. Sometimes people will make fun of their own meals: people who eat sorghum noodles will beautify their meals as "besieged by water", while the "tendon cutting" made by eating wheat noodles combined with rice noodles will be called "donkey ears". At breakfast, some people will bring out a dish of wild vegetables for porridge, so this dish is definitely for everyone to enjoy, and anyone can take a bite.

The past half century has been the most intense era of change, and great changes have taken place in my dream hometown. Staggered houses have become neat, winding dirt roads have become straight cement roads, and when cooking, the clatter of wind boxes can no longer be heard, and even the smoke from cooking no longer rises. People have already used induction cookers. However, the kitchen smoke that surrounded the village decades ago still lingers in front of my eyes. The trembling cry that called my father back for dinner has never left my memory, and the scene of squatting or standing together for dinner has always controlled my appetite. The incomparable tranquility in the village, the harmony that makes people feel for life, the simplicity and naturalness without carving have gradually become the whole of my dream hometown.