Wen | Geng Yanju
Winter is freezing, get up early to work and push open the door of the stairway, the cold air rushes over, a dry and cold world. Walking on the road with your arms in your arms, you can also be considered to have a hug, and you give yourself warmth, and it is indeed warmer.
Looking at the ginkgo trees on both sides of the road, the dry branches were frozen in the frozen air, and they could not be touched, as if they were going to fall down if they touched. In fact, they are vigorous, they contain the spring blossoms, the summer lushness, the autumn golden yellow, if the blessings are good, they will also cross the millennium, like an ancient poem in the long river of years. For example, Bai Juyi's two poems will be remembered every winter.
In a middle school textbook, "Charcoal Seller", in the final South Mountain, the charcoal seller who cuts and burns charcoal is "full of dust and smoke, two sideburns and ten fingers black", living a difficult and hard life, people have pity and gratitude for him. Charcoal is sent in the snow, and charcoal is warm. A cart of charcoal of more than a thousand gold was stolen by the two white-robed messengers of the two horsemen, and although the warriors were proud for a while, the years were just.
There is charcoal, and then there is a stove, let the weather freeze, it is not silent, and it will even become cute and interesting. Another poem is "Ask Liu Nineteen", which many people like: "Green ants are new to wine, red clay small stove." Late to the day want snow, can you drink a cup of nothing? "The stove is warm, the new wine is warm, and the confidant paintings and poems are chatted, and the happy things in life are very common and elegant things in the ancient literati." Nowadays, such leisure is extravagant, and although ordinary people have this poetry in their hearts, what is important is the real life in front of them.
Feelings of luxury, small stoves are commonplace. In the era of no heating and air conditioning, in winter, the families of small households always have to build a small stove in the house, boiling water, cooking, baking hands, the family guards the stove, warms the stomach, warms the body and warms the heart, and the cold winter is quietly gone.
In the countryside of the past, small stoves were also a luxury. The countrymen guarded a few acres of thin fields and a courtyard, and every household was cooking in a pot, and the fuel was straw, fallen leaves, and branches, and they were reluctant to spend money to buy briquettes. However, once the children of the family go to the town to go to secondary school and become day students, before winter, their parents will consider buying stoves and briquettes.
At that time, after the evening self-study, I came home at almost 10 o'clock in the evening, hungry, and went straight to the kitchen, where there was a pot on the small stove, and the pot was a hot meal left by my parents. While roasting the fire, eating at the same time, the meal is simple, but the pleasant happiness of that moment offsets the darkness and cold of running all the way home.
The small stove in memory is also associated with a bowl of hot rice noodles. In the winter of the year when I re-read at the county no. 1 Middle School, my heart was lonely and lonely, and the dark winter days were even more cold and sad. After school in the afternoon, I like to go to the small stall selling rice noodles at the door. Two small stoves, a few tables, the aunt who sells rice noodles loves to smile, gentle and affectionate, let people see the same. Whenever a student came to eat rice noodles, she would bring down the pot on one of the stoves and warm her hands. Soon, the stove was surrounded by a group of students, whether they knew each other or not, and everyone laughed happily together. The aunt who sells rice noodles is smiling and squinting at another stove to cook chicken soup rice noodles, 5 cents a bowl, soup casually added, delicious and affordable.
I always remember the scenes of us huddled and roasted by the fire, the old red tin stove, a group of innocent young smiling faces. In that moment, I felt more relaxed than ever. In the warmth of the fire, I don't know the people who are roasting the fire next to me, but I am not lonely.
Zhang Ailing said in the article: "In the early morning of cold days, people on the sidewalk often crouch down to make a small stove and fan out billowing white smoke. I loved walking through that smoke. "I like it the same way. Two years ago, when I lived in Laojuntang, I went to the back street to buy vegetables in the morning or evening, passing by the old hutong, where residents are still accustomed to boiling water in their own yards or doorways, and the billowing white smoke is often warm and intimate.