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A watchman in a wheat field

author:Xinmin Evening News

People in a green wagon were in a hurry, but they all stared at the wheat fields outside the window and skimmed backwards. The agricultural proverb says that "when the silkworm is old, the wheat is ripe for a while", the sun was like fire that day, the humidity in the air was quickly evaporated, after a dry and hot wind, the wheat straw on the edge of the wheat field became the first to become brittle and collapsed, and perhaps the next day or the third day the wheat would immediately scorch, falling all over the wheat grains, and the harvest was sharply reduced. It is best to harvest the wheat "ripe but not dry" or "dry but not scorched", take advantage of the fact that God has not changed his face, dry through, brick and into the warehouse.

A watchman in a wheat field

I suddenly realized that this was a train to grab the team, like a fire, like an arrow. So I didn't trim the edges, I didn't even have time to change my scruffy work clothes, and I didn't wash away the oil stains on my hands... Even if there is no seat, at this time curled up in the aisle or to find space at both ends of the carriage, lying on the ground, surviving this long ten hours. Then, before recovering the fatigue brought by the city, the cart and horse were about to be covered with mud in the wheat field.

It is not enough to watch the wheat fields in distant cities and count the farmers with their fingers pinched. The summer harvest is like a sand field, the most afraid of strong convective weather suddenly appears, thunderstorms and even mixed with hail, this is the extreme disaster weather, the wheat is smashed in the muddy field, the mess is unbearable, like bandits looting. The ears of wheat soaked by the rain are easily moldy and rotten, and if the summer grain grains are not harvested, the sweet potato cake has become the staple food of the wife and children for half a year.

The train passed through Chuzhou and Bengbu, and the rice gradually decreased, so it went straight through the brown soil and wheat waves on both sides. Modern farmers have long been liberated from cattle and sickles, and harvesting and sowing have been mechanized. I saw people lining up early along the road, waiting for the combine harvester that slowly drove from the field path, the rows of ripe wheat, and the ears of wheat that were hanging down to the ground bending down to greet them.

The combine harvester was as sharp as an electric razor, sneaking forward one by one, and the wheat field was quickly cleaned up and cut an "inch". Then, the wheat rattled in the belly of the machine, a ceremony of separating the grain from the straw, and since then, the wheat has a new future. Discarded wheat straw is good feed, and now neither the wheat straw stack is piled, nor is the straw returned to the field" and the harvester is immediately behind the baler, which compresses and wraps a round barley roll, bundles it into a roll and rolls down from the tail of the machine, like a hen laying eggs. One-man tall barley rolls, facing neatly, were scattered around the furry wheat fields, as if they had lost a huge egg roll and provoked children to play. The harvest of summer grain is like "the tiger's mouth grabbing grain", and the summer seed is also like "praising the father to chase the sun". After the harvest of wheat is harvested, there is no delay, and autumn crops with a short growth period such as corn, sesame seeds, and sweet potatoes are immediately planted.

It seems that Huainan is a watershed, and since then more and more wheat fields have not been smooth, one after another protruding small mounds, either in the center or on one side. At first, I thought it was a field marking, and then I thought it was a stack of wheat straw that I did not give up, and the harvester was not in the way, and Bi Gongbi walked around.

To the young man sitting together and chatting, he said, "That's a grave, which is rare in the south." I was surprised and made sense.

Burying one's ancestors in one's own wheat fields, nourishing the wheat fields and sharing the harvest is like always living by the side of the family. Tired of work can be relied upon; lonely thoughts can be nagged; late at night when the ancestors listen to the jointing of the wheat... The boy was talking about it, and did not notice a burst of wheat fragrance in the air, much like when he was a child, the family used wheat to sprout, rice fermentation, and then filtered the cotton mucus with gauze, heated the juice into maltose, wrapped around the bamboo skewers, and emitted a sweet fragrance when playing around. (Purple Eagle)

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