The | is the pearl of the sea
My hometown
In late spring and early summer, I always like to look up at the sky. Through the new green branches and leaves of the old locust tree, the clear blue sky is always similar to the blue sky in the dream, and every time I look up, I can always evoke a deep attachment in my heart, and in a trance, it seems to return to the old garden.
My hometown Xiajin is a county seat located in northwest Lu, and my home is on a yellow sandy land north of the county seat. The yellow sand land has a name called the Sand River, and grandfather said that the Yellow River used to flow here a long time ago, and then it was diverted to leave this small ditch. Of course, I didn't believe it at that time, because I knew that ancient poetry said that the water of the Yellow River came up from heaven. Since it is the water of heaven, it must be turbulent and gushing, how can it leave this arid yellow sand?
However, I don't hate the sand, because it's a paradise for me and my friends. The children in this area grew up in fine sand. When the little baby sleeps, he will sleep in the earthen cloth bag, the fine sand is sifted with the finest basket, and then stir-fried in an iron pot, stir-fried until piping hot and then dried to the right temperature, put into a red cotton bag and spread out a layer, so that the little baby sleeps in it, here is the earthen cloth bag. Babies sleeping in earthen cloth bags are not afraid of bedwetting, and the temperature is controllable, warm in winter and cool in summer, and can also prevent eczema, which is the most environmentally friendly diaper pad. When the children are toddlers, they will also be thrown on the sand, let them fall and get up again, moving on both sides one step at a time, and the adults always do not care. The children just crawled in the sand, growing up day by day.
In my memory, my younger siblings and I always liked to play in the fine sand, and when we stepped on it, it was a deep nest of sand, and the fine sand flew all over the sky, fell into the hair and neck, patted, shook, and it was clean. When tired of playing, I lie on the sand and watch the clouds in the sky slowly swim away, changing into various interesting shapes. Suddenly, a bird will fly lightly from the sky and leave behind a string of nice calls: coo! The mother said that this was a messenger bird, and as long as she heard its call, she knew that the leaf was ripe. Its chirping also fits this rhythm: coo-goo! The leaves are ripe!
The leaves my mother said were mulberry fruits, a kind of fruit that I liked to eat when I was a child. Because it has no seeds, no pits, and no peels, just wash it with cool deep well water, and you can put a large amount into your mouth and eat it. The sweetness was incomparably sweet, soaking all my memories of homesickness.
Later, I left home to study, and my horizons broadened. I learned that the bird is not called the messenger bird, it has a nice name called "four-tone cuckoo". I also knew that what my grandfather said was true, and the Yellow River did flow here. My favorite mulberry is the most powerful proof of this.
According to historical research, the Yellow River flowed here during the Eastern Zhou Dynasty more than 2,000 years ago, leaving this sandy river land after diversion, which carries an ancient civilization of more than 2,000 years. There are clouds in the verse: Weisang and Zi, will be respectful, look at the bandit's father, and rely on the bandit's mother. How many ups and downs has that ancient mulberry tree witnessed for thousands of years? How much acrostic? Thinking about the Zhao Qi Jin alliance in the Spring and Autumn Period, I don't know what kind of grand event it was? In that era of "Visan and Azusa", did those princes also plant a seedling of a mulberry tree here?
It's the small full season again, and the lush mulberry trees are covered with small and delicate fruits, black purple, bright purple, light purple, and white transparent purple, crystal like jade are delicious mulberries. The breeze blew, the leaves were swaying, and the fruits were like cute elves grimacing at me. I smiled and reached out and took one into my mouth, the sweet pulp soothing my taste buds, as if I had traveled back in time to my teenage days.
There was a burst of laughter in the depths of Sanglin, which was the joy of the villagers. I stood under the mulberry tree and looked up, looking at the winding branches, as if I saw the heavy traces engraved by history, the green jade-like leaves shimmering with endless vitality in the sun, the wind passed, the branches and leaves swayed a wonderful melody, like the ballad of my grandmother when I was a child.
Suddenly, I felt very ashamed. I am ashamed of my ignorance, my insignificance, my indifference. All the efforts made when I was a teenager were to go out from here and go to a broader stage to realize my great dreams. However, whenever I go to a new place, when I face those scenic spots, when I am in the mountains and rivers and moons that those literati once praised, I often feel lost in addition to being amazed - what about the beautiful scenery? After all, it is a landscape in another country, and it does not belong to me after all.
Some people say that life is a circle, no matter how big a circle you turn, going around in circles for a lifetime, you will always return to the starting point. Heaven and earth are leisurely, all living beings are passers-by, and fame and benefits are like smoke and rain and dust blowing away. One day you will understand that what truly belongs to you is the imprint left in your life by the native land of your hometown.
The water of the old garden is sweet even if it is salty.
The soil of the old garden, even if it is barren, is deeply cherished.
Mother's meal, even if it is rough, is delicious on earth.
As for the foot sockets on the yellow sand ground and the laughter in the mulberry forest, they are all blood-red seals imprinted in my memory. Timeless, never faded.
About the author
Canghai Mingzhu, whose real name is Zhu Wenli, is a member of the China Writers Association, a member of the Shandong Writers Association, a member of the Shandong Writers Association's Online Literature Creation Committee, and a member of the Shandong Women's Calligraphy and Painting Association. Xiaoxiang Academy Gold Medal Writer. The 3rd Orange Melon Network Literature Award 100 Powerful Gods.
Recent photo of the author
One Point Poetry Grass Garden
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