The Great Plains (287) | Acacia tree at the head of the village

Acacia tree at the head of the village

Text/Zhao Yuying

The acacia tree at the head of the hometown village has left too many memories, and it is absolutely mysterious in our eyes of amazement. The wind wanders with seeds, birds fly with seeds, and many years later the descendants of old trees are left everywhere in and outside the village, and one was planted in front of my house.

This spring, half of the branches of the Acacia tree at the entrance have dried up and are a little sad. I could no longer see a familiar figure in the once lively courtyard, and the dark red gate had faded its color, revealing a piece of iron primary color, and I touched the copper lock on the deadbolt that my parents had used when they were alive, and my nose was sour. When my parents planted the Acacia tree, they must have been in a joyful mood, and the red and green of the tree can reflect the smile of my parents. Today, the acacia tree that remains in front of the house must have lost its vitality because there is no smell of fireworks in the yard. The roots hold up the red bricks unevenly, making it difficult to store rainwater and have no nutrients. The lonely old tree has no one to take care of, no one talks to it, and it will be in low spirits. Or maybe last year's winter was too cold, and the spring cold was too long!

I don't know when the two acacia trees grow at the head of the village were planted, but for as long as I can remember, the dark trunks have grown to the point where it takes two adults to hug them. On the east side of the tree is the vegetable base of the village, and because it is convenient to draw water from the dam, the greens grow lush in all seasons. To the north are a row of low adobe houses, three of which are the village's electric mills, and on the west side of the electric mills are electric irrigation stations for watering the ground. A wide and deep canal winds through the shade of the acacia tree, dividing the two acacia trees that support each other into one left and one right, and the separated old trees look at each other like cowherds and weaver girls. Fortunately, the canopy branches and leaves can be entangled with each other, and they look like a small mountain from afar. I don't know if the tree has grown for a long time, affected by the terrain, or crooked when planted, a tree grows obliquely, a little humble, and half-grown children can climb up and down to play. Another acacia tree stands straight and a little proud, and only flocks of sparrows can fly up, chirping freely and happily in the tree, and occasionally dexterous purple swallows dance among the branches.

"Acacia tree" is a name I only learned when I grew up, and people in the village used to call it "horsetail tree". Spring has just warmed up, a layer of new branches has been drawn from the canopy, and the delicate bud tips are tender and tender, stretching freely in the warm spring breeze and in the fine spring rain. Acacia leaves are a bit like mimosa and sensitive. During the day, the petioles are like bamboo grates that comb their hair, and like the feathers of ducks, geese and birds, densely arranged in an orderly manner, and at night the leaves curl up into strands on their own, really hanging low like a horse's tail. With the arrival of summer, the rain is abundant and the climate is suitable, the leaves of the acacia tree become more green and luxuriant, and clusters of tiny buds like rice grains grow between the branches and leaves, and in a few days, peach-pink flowers compete to bloom, and a trace of fragrance spreads with the wind. Clusters of green gauze red silk, the petals on each bunch of bright red pompoms are so soft that people can't bear to touch, flowing and gorgeous like a dream, like a jade tree full of fairy spirit. The canopy of the two intertwined trees is staggered, and from a distance it looks like it has been blushed by the setting sun, and it seems to be a charming scenery in the twilight. The rich fragrance attracts swarms of bees and butterflies to dance among the flowers, and purple swallows occasionally skim the treetops in search of nectar hungry flying insects. Naughty children climb into old trees to pick and fold flower branches, weave strangely shaped garlands and put them on their heads, necks and waist, or carry them on their shoulders and pretend to be flower umbrellas, and I must be in those children's groups.

When the farmland is watered, the clear and sweet river water is transported down the winding channels to the fields of the village, nourishing the growth of all things. The two sides of the canal under the acacia tree are also lined up with big girls and daughters-in-law who sit or squat to wash their clothes, and the amorous acacia flowers drip down from the tree from time to time and fall on the big girl's black braids, and the pink cheeks add a touch of shyness to become more beautiful. Got into the white and plump neck collar of the little daughter-in-law, and her graceful figure was reflected so charmingly in the canal water. Bai Lingling's river water was soaked in crimson by the canopy above his head, and the gurgling water carried the fragrance of acacia flowers, carrying the noisy sound of people laughing and scolding by the canal down the river, and it spread far, far away...

That year, the countryside had just become aware of doing business, and a more bold villager brought back business partners from outside to the village to engage in feed processing. The main thing is to buy sun-dried locust leaves and grind them into green fodder, and the processing point is in the vacant room next door to the mill. In summer, the leaves of the locust tree are the most abundant season, and for a period of time, men, women and children from near and far gather the leaves everywhere to send them for sale, and many men, women and children gather under the mill and acacia trees every day. A girl in the same village was eighteen or nineteen years old, with a spicy and bold personality, and became acquainted with young men who did business outside during the period of selling leaves. "Acacia flowers bloom with grass, forget about the flowers blooming and the water shine." The blooming acacia flowers also bring infinite reverie to the young girl who has just bloomed her emotions. The summer moonlight gently sprinkles on the river dam, on the sparkling surface of the river, on the two mysterious figures on the river dam. The breeze came slowly, blowing away the girlish feelings, and the hearts of beautiful men and women under the Acacia tree were secretly pasted together.

Autumn comes so fast, fewer leaves can be picked, and the mills are no longer so hot. As coincidentally as Mr. Shu told a book, the movie "Liu Qiaoer" came to play in the village next door, the content of which was that Liu Qiaoer, a rural girl in the border area, did not agree to her father's arranged marriage, did not covet the financial resources of the landlord, and married her favorite model worker by herself. Xu was influenced by the demagoguery of "Liu Qiaoer", and after the processing plant ended, the girl followed the foreign businessmen and fled the country. This was a major insult at the time, so angry that her father and mother said ruthlessly not to want this girl. Years later, the girl is a mother and has returned with her son and daughter's family. It is said that there are only ruthless children in the world, and there are no ruthless parents. In response to this sentence, the girl's father and mother no longer advanced things, and gladly accepted the girl's family. I think for such a long time, my father and mother must be worried about my daughter all the time, and my daughter must dream of returning to her hometown night and night!

Winter turns to spring, times change, and everything seems to happen in a place that is out of reach. The electric mill has long been abandoned, and no one is there to grind the flour. The houses that used to process feed were no longer useful, only the two acacia trees were still so lush and shining. The gorgeous tidbits bloom from early summer to late autumn, falling and blooming, bee butterflies go to appointments as scheduled, swallows have set up camp in the old house, and there is an extra magpie nest between the tall acacia branches. The canal under the tree is still flowing to fulfill its mission, but it is difficult to see the girls and daughters-in-law who wash clothes on both sides of the canal, nor the group of children who climb up and down the old trees every day. The wind blows off the leaves and flowers, the flowers that fall into the canal are lucky, the flowing water carrying the flowers is also lucky, mixed with fragrant river water flowing through the land of the village, seeping into the heart of the homeland, forever remaining on the homeland!

If there is an afterlife, I would like to be an acacia tree in my hometown. Leaning on the side of the idyllic road, rooted in the dirt of my hometown, deep and unmoving, not far from home, you can see at a glance the courtyard where my parents lived. Wait for a lover to come and tell me your good wishes.

Author: Zhao Yuying, a native of Jieshi Mountain, Wudi County, Binzhou City, a lover of literature, likes to record the bits and pieces of life with words, and has a deep love and persistence for literature. He published ""Gan Niang" Shi Gong in Qilu Evening News, "Hometown, is the Flowing Year at the Foot of the Mountain" on the writing and appreciation platform, and published many essays such as "Memories of the Ferry", "Old Time" and "Light Autumn Painting" on Binzhou Net.