The spring breeze in March is slow, the wicker stirs the spring afternoon, the blue sky and white clouds are inlaid with flying paper kites, and the long threads hold the hearts that want to fly. And the smoke of my hometown put a lock in my heart, bringing me back to the small mountain village that haunted me.
(Memories are a long line)
The hometown of March is already a scene of vitality, the grass is slightly green, the wicker combs the wind, and the peach blossoms are blooming. The stone bridge is murmuring, and the reflected morning glow is like the face of a shepherd girl. The cows were mooing in the fields, and the whip in his father's hand was raised high and gently lowered, how could he be willing to beat his "baby"?
(Spring Field)
When I was a child, spring in my hometown was very beautiful, but it was a very difficult time, and it was a real green and yellow scarcity. After a long winter of consumption, every household has little surplus grain, at that time there was no vegetable greenhouse, vegetables are even more difficult to see, and there is little left of Chinese cabbage stored in winter. There is only a vat of pickles and a vat of soybean sauce pickled by my mother, and I tighten my belt with coarse tea and light rice to get through this green and yellow time. At that time, what impressed me the most was a "hungry" and the sad face of my mother, "it is difficult for a good woman to cook without rice"!
Fortunately, spring has returned to the earth, and hope is slowly sprouting with spring! Nature will give every kind and simple person. In the fields and hills, wild vegetables polish the spring flowers and enrich people's tables!
(Hometown is always so beautiful)
On Sunday, I made an appointment with a few friends, carried a bamboo basket, picked up a small sickle, and went to dig wild vegetables in a playful manner. When we came to the entrance of the village, we lined up in a row, facing east and facing west, and threw the sickles back, and then we saw which direction the heads of the sickles were heading, and then we went to dig wild vegetables.
As I had hoped, the three sickles were facing west, so we went to the west of the village to dig wild vegetables, (because the young lady next door always drove the sheep to the west hill to graze the sheep). Along the way, we ran, jumped, and indulged in the joy of childhood!
Thorn cabbage, bitter hemp cover, good pig food, old owl claws, dandelions, and wild vegetables that can be seen, all of which we dug up and put in small back baskets. My goal is not to take these wild vegetables, I will take my friends to the harvested bean fields and peanut fields, because when the crops are harvested in the fall, there will always be beans falling in the ground, and after harvesting the crops, I will plow the ground again in the winter, so that the beans will be buried in the ground and will sprout in the spring.
(Breaking the ground)
We came to the bean field, the soft soil felt very comfortable to step on, and two of our friends even took off their shoes and jumped comfortably. The sprouted beans will hold up a piece of soil, remove the clods, and the bean sprouts will stare at you with two soybean petals, and then take out a small sickle and carefully dig it out! The fragrance of pure natural bean sprouts is indescribable!
We are keenly looking for bean sprouts in the fields, picking up hard clods of dirt to chase flying birds, and chasing lizards running out of the fields. At that time, happiness was so simple, and happiness was so easy to obtain.
(The most common critter in the field)
Looking up at the sun, it was almost noon, and our little belly was growling, and looking at the wild vegetables in the small back basket, it was also a full load.
When I got home, my mother had begun to mix noodles and prepare to make sweet potato cakes, I proudly put the small basket in front of my mother, and when my mother saw so many bean sprouts, she touched my head lovingly and said, "Go and wash your face, I'll fry bean sprouts for you."
Thoughts come with the spring breeze, memories will always make people cry, and I don't know whether it is happiness or regret? I can never go back to my childhood, I can't go back to my hometown, I can't see my mother again, I can't see my mother ...... again!
(Spring flowers are full of sorrow)