Always keep the mood sprouting
Wen | Lin Qingxuan Figure| Network Editor| Liema Green Onion
One year, I worked at Wuling Farm, harvesting peaches and pears for fruit growers. It was winter, and I had to change into heavy cotton clothes in the morning, because the mountain air was particularly clear and cold, and when I took a deep breath, the cool air filled the entire chest and lungs.
I lived in the farmer's warehouse, and in the morning I picked up the basket and went to the orchard, where the mist was flowing among the fruit trees, waiting for the sun to come out and then disperse to the side of the mountain. In the mist, because the leaves between the branches were sparse, it was clear to see the plump and ripe fruits, protruding from the fog, and the fresh fruits that were still hanging from the dew of the night were as if they had just taken a clean bath.
The fog swept over the fruit trees, like a vast river, when the sunlight happened to sprinkle the golden threads all over the ground, and the color of the fruit was exposed, and the pears were transparent, and the moisture inside the epidermis could almost be seen. Ripe peaches have a pinkish red, and in the green background, the faint red, like a chicken heart stone, flows with the blood of a tree.
I like the first sight of the morning light. At that time, when the day's labor was just about to begin, I felt the joy of starting to work, and in the face of a piece of fruit that was still green when it was picked yesterday, after the baptism of the night, it was ripe, and you could deeply feel the pulsation of life, knowing that every fruit tree had the power to make the fruit grow.
I carefully plucked the peaches and placed them in baskets covered with soft paper, feeling the weight of the peaches and the inner texture of the sweet water. The peach in his hand, although it has left its branches, is like the heart of a fruit tree.
Picking peaches and pears was not a heavy job, but by noon, the whole body was almost sweaty, and the warm winter sun at noon forced people to take off their cotton clothes outside. Why does such a slight labor make people sweat? Sometimes I think so. The reason I found out later was that although peaches and pears were not heavy, they were so easily injured that they had to be engrossed — and full concentration was also a kind of respect we should have for the fruits of the earth!
In only a month, we had almost completely harvested the fruit in the orchard, and the workers all let go of work and turned back down the mountain, but I fell in love with the water and soil there, and with the permission of the owner of the orchard, promised to let me live in the warehouse until spring.
I didn't expect to be able to spend the winter in the mountains, when I had already graduated from school and was waiting for the order to recruit for military service, and I was almost relaxed because I had nothing to do. I borrowed a pair of fishing tackle from people nearby, and in my free time, I took a passenger bus to the Bihu Lake in the Fog Society to wander for a day, occasionally catching a few small fish, usually just enjoying the scenery.
Sometimes I take a car to Lushan to wash the hot springs and then bask in the afternoon sun on the hot spring rocks; sometimes I go to the nearby Lishan and take a walk in the side streets to see the tourists who climb up from the bottom of the mountain to enjoy the winter scenery. At night, alone in the warehouse, he built a small coal stove, drank a pot of shochu, and then lay on the bed, listening carefully to the sound of the mountain wind blowing through the forest outside the window, and deeply felt that he was a completely free person, a person who had worked in nature and the earth, and waited quietly for spring.
The orchard that has been picked is not therefore a holiday, the owner of the orchard still goes to the garden every day to do some work of pruning and weeding, especially pruning, which requires long-term experience and technology, and I heard that pruning alone will affect next year's harvest.
My travels came to an end, and one day I went to the garden to help tidy up, and I was greatly surprised by what I saw in the garden. For just a month ago the garden, which had been full of fruitful fruits, was now all as if it had withered, and not only had there been no fruit, but even the leaves that had hung at the tail end of the branches had withered away, and there was only one or two fruit trees, and there was still a scorched yellow leaf that was trembling in the wind and was about to fall to the ground at any time.
About author:Lin Qingxuan (pen name: Qin Qing, Lin Li, February 26, 1953 – January 23, 2019), born in Kaohsiung, Taiwan, graduated from Shih Hsin University, taiwan, is a contemporary writer and essayist in Taiwan. He is the author of "Ten Books of Bodhi", "Lotus of Purity", "Mahogany", etc., and has won the National Literary and Art Award, and is known as one of the "Eight Great Writers of Contemporary Prose". On January 23, 2019, Lin Qingxuan passed away at the age of 65.
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