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Qingwei | burned

Text/Wang Ting

Qingwei | burned

The grass under the winter sun, clean and dry, dry and dry, simply fell on the ground, a yellow. The land was deserted for a year, and the grass stems in the field stood tall enough to be a man's height, and they fell down and were thick enough to be a foot. Winter came, the grass dried up, and so it was.

The "thin sickle" knife is semicircular, with a blade, and people with a little experience in rural life know that the thin sickle blade cuts the stem and the tip of the blade pecks at the root. I cut the grass in the direction of the grass falling, and piled it in the middle of the plot to facilitate the four-sided encirclement, saving time and effort. After the completion of the fire, it is better to raise the fire to the sky, turn the ashes into the ground, and if you are in the center, you will not be able to burn the seedlings in the soil next to it.

However, the herb is weak, and after withering, it falls in the wind. The terrain on the slopes is winding and undulating, and the local wind movement is very different from the vast expanse of the north - the southeast, southwest, and northwest winds are predestined (season). Hometown belongs to the basin hilly area, the brightness of the weather, the level of temperature, the size of the wind, at any time to influence the wind direction, of course, is the spring and summer wind southeast, autumn and winter blowing northwest in the general trend of the small nature, but for this slope or that bay of the side of the soil, this from time to time the whirlwind is enough to make it dizzy. The harvesting and sowing of a plot of land next to it will also affect its feeling of the wind. In my opinion, this material is also enough for the students of the School of Meteorology to write a graduation thesis. Not to mention the wild dogs that "walk the grass" (mating) from time to time, the arrows that pass by, and the dog's line is not completely routine. So, the grass slept on the ground. I had to adjust my direction at any time and go with the flow.

I have always been hairy (manic) in my work, as the saying goes, nine hairs out of ten. As he grew older and weaker, his hands and feet became more and more dull, and he also began to care about the wounds on his skin- which were no longer easy to pass--the qi and blood deficiency. Therefore, I also put on a pair of gloves in a fake way. The left hand plucks the stem and the right hand cuts, and when the grass is in a bundle, it is hugged and stacked into stacks. Bend over, stretch out, return the knife, deflect, get up, yard grass, so repeatedly, the clouds flow, not impatient. A bit smug.

Qingwei | burned

Dongyang opened the hem of my clothes, and the back of my spine was sticky and sweaty. The fire of midsummer has long since burned across the sky, so the heavens, the earth, and so me. Looking at the scene of early winter, the cabbage spinach and the winter cold vegetables lazily bask in the sun, the tender green bean seedlings scurrying out of the ground and looking east and west, and the bowl of bean tips - it seems that there is no wind (blowing it) around. Idle for a long time is lazy, after I tried to move a little, the stiff and stagnant limbs and hundreds of skeletons gradually unblocked, for a long time did not sweat, the body was astringent with acid, the acid was painful, the pain was happy - sweating, blood accelerated, driving the secretion of dopamine, painful. This is thanks to the wife's nagging: Go! Cut the grass on the back slope and burn it, cramping and cramping.

Cut open the dry grass, the ground is not green - there is no local winter common "goose intestine" such as the tender grass, the goose loves to eat, hence the name. At least a season of grass was delayed, and the grass was discussed on the grass - I don't know whether this ridicule is to excuse my laziness or to send a "thinking grass" humor. However, the winter sun joined me and shone together.

No hurry, just such a big piece of land, take your time. Self-consolation, after the completion of the dinner, the wife at home in the red amaranth porridge under the carrot is not less, maybe a happy, but also boiled a large bowl back to the pot meat mile. When I think of eating, I really feel a little hungry, and I hope that Mei will finish quenching her thirst and spur herself on - hurry up, and go home early to drink porridge when I am done. Tonight there must be porridge on it, the air has dried lately, people are thirsty, and I have commanded it before going uphill.

Oh, as soon as you have some ideas, you have a little thought in your heart, and the rhythm of your hands becomes compact. The grass stacks are high, the roofs are high, and the grass is fluffy, which is conducive to combustion. Straight waist is between self-satisfaction, do not feel the left finger pain, a look: suffered! It turned out that the fingernail groove in the left hand was red and swollen - the old gloves were rotten, coupled with excessive force, the middle finger of the left index finger was exposed - the middle finger was injured, and it seemed that paronychia was inevitable. Is the fire on fire, and the ghosts are panicked? Thinking of this hometown slang, I can't help but laugh at myself. Fortunately, the grass is basically harvested.

I poured a large pile of bamboo shoot shells out of my back pocket and picked them up in the bamboo forest before going uphill, ready to start a fire. Ignition, bamboo shoot shells are flammable, dry grass is also mixed with a lot of cat vines and leaf saplings, this winter is warm, they have not yet fallen leaves, they are sandwiched in the middle of dry grass, supplemented by bamboo shoot shells, wet wood is afraid of fierce fire, should be harmless.

As the small flames rose, a group of excited little faces appeared in my heart, as well as dead weeds, matches, beans, peas, buds, potatoes, red amaranth... Surrounded by a campfire on a barren slope, his face was full of red light and snickering, of course, it was a sneaking joy, except for dead branches and weeds, the rest of the things were all stolen. After a long time gone, the scenes and pictures of this childhood have long been completely immersed in distant memories with their adulthood: the brain has long been filled with mountains and rivers - mountains, in my eyes, rivers, under my feet, and even the side of the mountains and waters...

I looked at the new soil on the slope, the red amaranth had just been dug, the potatoes and beans had just sprouted from the ground, and the cabbage and radish that could not be grilled, but unfortunately, it was a pity that this was a big pile of wood. The belly is a little grumbling, a little regretful. Then come with a cigarette, although you can't wrap your stomach, at least you can also smoke your own chaotic thoughts.

The dead grass also has leaves, and the fire burns as soon as it burns, but it passes as soon as it burns - it is extinguished, and the grass stem is not there. I am reminded of a famous quote that has long been quoted: wildfires burn endlessly, and spring winds blow again. There is also the song "A Fire in Winter" by Fei Xiang. Slash and burn, grass and trees withered several times, when I was a child, I first heard about the fire farming culture of ethnic minorities such as Yun Guichuan, novelty, in fact, it walked with me in the open and in the dark. Start over and stack more bamboo shoot shells. Ignite until the grass stem burns through and ignites in multiple places. My heart also rose with the fire and drifted with the smoke. The flames took off, crackled, and countless grass stems burst into a chorus, but unfortunately there was no rhythm, just blindly.

Qingwei | burned

Children should all like fire, here is not to talk about the latent inheritance of the original gene of Zi Ru Mao's blood drinking, at least I have been obsessed with its magic and floating since I was a child. Fire, big or small, left and right, red or white, like a dream... The Art of War: Soldier impermanence, water impermanence. Perhaps the military situation is more appropriate, and the water potential is often constrained by the natural environment and has a certain predictability. But the fire is unpredictable - my favorite is the dance of flames, the goblin-like ghost, the flickering temptation of the soul, the change of red and white... No leaf in the world is the same, but the leaves are too dead. Fire, this goblin is alive, it can be said that every moment of her is a thousand and one beautiful, burning everything in the world, and the rise and fall of all things is extinguished with fire.

The fire was blazing, more than eight feet high on the flat ground, and it was roaring and fierce. I have a sneaky joy in my heart, a small one, from the little heart in my little body when I was a child--stealing the sugar cubes in the sugar jar at home--the sweetness in my mouth is mixed with the squirming anxiety of the rabbit's mouth in my heart... However, the grass was dry and the fire was big, and by the time the city management came to stop it, it had long since vanished. My eyeballs burned, and there must have been two flaming fireballs in my eye crystals.

The earth is burning, and the first flame in the world must have come from outside the sky. After a thunderclap and a blue light, there was fire on the ground. So she became the spirit of this world. At this time, I suddenly remembered a Zen story: The Zen master asked people how to avoid weeds on the ground. Answering with fire and alkali with salt and lime, the Zen master smiled and glanced at the fertile field, and the man suddenly realized. There are many stories and legends about fire, and I think everyone has one or two in their hearts.

Someone on the slope came, it was the old grandson of the same village, he saw me playing sex long, greeted me, issued a "flat" speech: over the kan is the New Year, burned, clean, less insects, soil fertilizer. If you plant something, as soon as you open the year, you will grow long and whizzing.......

The fire was bright and red, baking so hot that my chest was hot, and I couldn't help but take two steps back. Beckoning to joke with Lao Sun: Lao Sun, come, roast fire, heat and.

(Image from the Internet)

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