When I was a child, I grew up in the countryside of the Central Plains, and I have a deep memory of the countryside of my hometown, the adobe house and the grass yard, all year round there will be a variety of birds to make nests on the eaves of the old house, the most common are sparrows, swallows, and some other unknown birds, they are like family, chattering and living in harmony with us all day, from the gap in the window sill into the kitchen, hall house, stealing food, cereal, all day rush can not finish, can not leave, not to mention how annoying.
But the most interesting thing to count is to pick up elm money in the yard in the spring. When I was a child, the greenery of the village was particularly good, and there were plane trees, poplar trees and elm trees planted in front of my home or in the courtyard, as well as peach trees, pear trees, persimmon trees and so on. At that time, my father dug a big pit in my yard, which was dedicated to storing domestic garbage compost, and there was a stout elm tree on the side of the pit, perhaps affected by the fertilizer in the pit, the nutrition was sufficient, this elm tree grew leafy, and in the spring, the pointed leaves covered most of the courtyard, and every day there were birds singing on it, and the elm money flowers quietly grew out of the branches, round, green, like a string of light green copper coins hanging on the tree, adding a little color to the spring.
About the beginning of the third month of the lunar calendar, the elm money flowers grew out, the mother tied an iron hook with a long tree pole, stood outside the yard, poked the iron hook into the elm branch, twisted a few times, and then pulled down, the elm money fell from the tree like snowflakes, spilled one by one, and then our children carried a small basket, and held the elm money flowers strung on the thin branches in the palm of their hands, and in a moment they filled the basket.
The mother put away the tools, took the Yu Qianhua to the side of the pressurized water well, pressed a few buckets of water, rinsed the Yu Qianhua, sprinkled some salt and marinated for a while, then mixed in the cornmeal, made a large green corn dough, and then cut it into small pieces with a knife, took it in her hand and pinched it a few times to make a nest, or a cake, put it in the pot and steamed it for the children to eat, sweet, fragrant, and now the aftertaste of that natural food taste is drooling in the mouth. At that time, because of economic constraints, there was no white flour at home, and the most eaten was cornmeal, and life was quite bitter, but we ate with relish. At the end of March, the elm flowers gradually grew old, from green to yellow, and if they were not plucked, they all fell gently, and when they were blown by the spring wind, they disappeared. Only a tree of thick green leaves remained, shining golden in the sun.
Later, when the economy was slightly better, every spring my mother used wheat flour to mix steamed elm money to spend, as in previous years, my mother would use the iron hook to pick elm money on the elm tree, and sometimes my father would put down the farm tools to help, and our children would still pick up under the tree. The years are like songs, the sun is like shuttles, in the blink of an eye, the children have grown up, become a home, the family world is also changing with each passing day, first the old house was demolished and rebuilt, followed by the very old elm trees were cut down, leaving only some plane trees, in the spring, pink flowers like small bells, one by one hanging on the trees, the village is set off extra beautifully.
Now that I have been away from my hometown for many years, I miss the elm money flowers in my hometown every spring, and I taste the freshness, but I heard my mother say that there are fewer trees in the village, and if you want to eat elm money flowers, you can only go to those deserted groves to find them. Alas, there is a little loss in my heart, and the taste that remains in our generation when it was a child is getting less and less.
Nostalgia is sometimes a long-lost taste bud experience, adults back to their hometown is a luxury, sometimes can only use these familiar tastes, deeply miss every spring in the years, every parting, every reunion, the wheel of the four seasons will never stop, carrying us on a journey, year after year.