Wen | Wei Zhongyou Editor| Swallow Photo | Network
A drizzle of rain in early spring softened the earth overnight, and the fields were moist and fresh. The grass buds arched the ground, the wheat seedlings suddenly hardened their waists, and in the corner of the small vegetable garden, on the ridges that were completely missing in winter, the sharp buds of flesh were abruptly drilled. It is the rebirth of the onion, the messenger of spring. Green and tender, gorgeous and delicate, those who see it are eager to come to a hibernation and wake up. This is before and after the sting, this is the spring news, this is the cycle of life, this is the cry of the earth. Those who linger have only envy, only admiration, only sighs, only nostalgia, so the chapter of memory is turned page by page with the logo of the years, and the glory and withering of the onion is suddenly frozen in the belly of the mouth.
Spring onions are cute and beautiful. The cool and tenderness of the shallots mixed with tofu is the favorite of the people, which can not only entertain guests, but also enjoy banquets, and delicious dishes as the top brand. You can also guard the stove alone, endure the hardships and loneliness of life, and let the summer rain and autumn wind. Spring spring onions, most of them are used as rare condiments, and a large number of cooking is absolutely reluctant. The spring onion should be a few emerald green in the soup noodles, or a hint of fresh fragrance in the radish soup, and more memorable is the bowl of egg tea that the mother boiled in the water, a few emerald green onions rolling in the steaming bowl, the fragrance is instantly into the lungs, at this time I want to say a swing of the intestines is not exaggerated.
As a countryman born in southwest Lu, I would also like to say that the spring onion has its own shallot deliciousness, and the old green onion also has the strong aroma of the old spicy. At noon on a warm spring day, the countrymen finally threw off a bloated cotton coat, and coldly saw that there were suddenly a few winterish old onions behind the door or in the corner of the wall, looking bloated and tired. But gently peeling off the yellow onion skin, the green onion body is still white, the leaf end of the hidden green onion bud is so firm, the whole body appears goose yellow, as if the early spring willow buds sprouted another spring longing. So, cut two pieces of old green onions, stir-fry three or five eggs, at this time, look again, golden yellow mixed with jade white, spicy and sweet around the egg aroma, the taste of home cooking is warm and incomparable, eternal and fixed. If there are still some bacon in the stove that you are not willing to eat in the New Year, thinly cut a few slices, peel two old shallots carefully, fry two dry red peppers in the frying pan, snort and pull and then stir-fry - plate meat seasonal dishes, ho, so delicious and crispy, will circle between the lips and teeth for a whole day and night, the day dawn yawns, the air has a different taste.
No matter how many years of hardship my country have gone through, no matter how my memories are superimposed, it is difficult to reach a bunch of withered green leaves in my grandmother's hand, because grandma still has grandma on top. Grandma's grandmother looked down in the smoke and fire, carefully cutting a piece of hot-eyed old onion, turning into the age of the grandmother. Tears accompanied by sweat, the sound of a kitchen knife comforting the sighs of life difficulties, a strip of coarse cloth hand towels wet and dry, dry and wet, looking through the eyes of cooking smoke, only hoping that the grain in the hoard will never see the bottom.
The distance between the green onion and the farmer's life, as well as the distance from the vegetable field to the stove and the dining table, can be accurately measured by the green onion that is either prosperous or dead. Although the onion is small, the heart is still beating, the skin is dry and the heart is still germinating. Gently peel off a thin coat, pinch the head, remove the tail, the body of the water spirit neither hides dirt nor dirt, and even does not use water to rinse it. Even in the hungry years when the clothes are not wrapped, the years when the mother cooks vegetable root soup or steamed the bran steamed leaves, because of the mixture of green onions, there is a taste of life in the bitterness, although the meal is simple, it loses the richness of the taste, and the bitterness of the day is stained by a wisp of green onion. Looking forward to the coming year, looking forward to the harvest, looking forward to the wind and rain in the future days, hoping that the hope in the dream will come true in the blink of an eye. And the old onion that silently hides in the corner of life is accumulating the strength of life a little bit, looking forward to the spring equinox and spring rain, looking forward to blossoming and fruiting, and looking forward to the surprise of the owner.
Hungry for onions, burn the heart. Poor do not go to relatives, cold heart; winter onions - pi jiao root dry heart does not die. A proverb about the onion is sung from generation to generation by the ancestors, and the nourishment of the stubble of the onion makes the generations live endlessly.
Hometown is in a corner of southwest Lu, the history of frequent droughts and floods, only the onion life is hard and spicy, drowning, drought undefeated, even if the drought is not raining, it can still maintain a firm and unyielding, when all vegetables are withered, the unique green onions accompany the Lu southwest Hanzi through the spring, summer, autumn and winter. Unfortunately, in the 1930s, my grandfather led his grandfather to carry vegetable dumplings and green onions into kanto and still had no news, which became a difficult heart disease and pain for my father.
Onions are so faithfully bound to the land, but also willingly maintain ordinary life. She has endured generations of wind, frost, cold rain, resisted the drought and flood of nature, let the locusts become plagues, let the wind and sand sweep, let the plague be the scourge, fearlessly ravaged by war, not to mention the cold of the world, and resolutely and unswervingly singing about ordinary life. If there is a piece of land, it will grow, the water will be green, some people will love it, it will live endlessly, it will live up to the four seasons, and it will be vigorous for a long time.
To live, we must go through hardships and tribulations, and we must go through wind and rain and severe cold. Grandpa once said that people and crops must follow the seasons of the four seasons and must not be slowly surpassed. People mistake one season, and people mistake people for a year. Sometimes after paying hard sweat, there may not be a good harvest, but also to watch the sky to eat, only into the hoard is the food. People, who grew up eating grain, who gave us a handful of rice, who helped us a force, we must all remember it, but also to know the reward.
Yes, don't generations of great plains children survive like this: you give me a little gift, and I am still touched by you. You give me a touch of turquoise, and I give you a thousand purples and reds. You give me a blandness, and I give you a blast. You give me a season of tenacity, and I give you a lifetime of perseverance.
In fact, this is also a portrayal of the life of an onion. Behind the onions, buried are the rough stomachs of our fathers, as well as the cracked wounds and sighs on their arms.
From this, I sang onions.
Author: Zhongyuan Painter Friend, formerly known as Wei Zhongyou, Yuncheng people, members of Shandong Writers Association, Shandong Photographers Association, like literature and photography, once served as the executive editor of "Yuncheng Literature and Art", there are essays, poetry in the newspaper.
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