In July, gently close the green letterhead, and in August, you will step all the way to the shallow and leisurely. The sun is still full of enthusiasm, sparing no effort to burn everything. The wind is somewhat rebellious, no longer aiding and abetting, bringing a hint of coolness to the earth. Autumn stepped on the tail of Summer, ready to change the dynasty and unify the season.
As the saying goes: pick peppercorns in autumn, and beat soft dates in winter. Autumn is coming, and the peppercorns in my hometown must be red. Mom couldn't stay in the city for a long time, as if she heard the warm call of the hometown peppercorns: Come back, pick the peppercorns, come back, pick the peppercorns.
There was a rare cool good weather on the three-volt day, and I decided to go back to my hometown to hang out. The iron general in the house as usual closed the door, and at this point, Dad must have gone to the slope to herd sheep. If nothing else, Mom definitely cut peppercorns on the slope. Sure enough, just after walking to the half slope, I saw my mother sweating and carrying a woven bag of pepper branches back.
When I got home, my mother poured the peppercorn branches in the bag at the door and beckoned me to prepare to pick the peppercorns. There are many sharp blades on the branches, and if you are not careful, you will get stuck in your hands. The peppercorns are clustered, like red onyx, and there is a trace of unique aroma. It took most of the busy half a day to pick a large pile of flowers, but the peppercorns picked were not proportional to the branches.
After lunch, my mother did not plan to rest at all, and wanted to take advantage of the fact that it was not too hot and rush to the slope to pick more peppercorns. I couldn't sleep either, so I followed my mother to cut peppercorns, experience the hardships of labor, and incidentally relive the memories of the hard-working life of my youth.
This year, the rain was enough, and the weeds and shrubs on the slopes seemed to be crazy, although the branches and leaves were sloping and crooked from east to west, they even climbed and multiplied to produce an arbitrary vitality, shading the poor land, and decorating the barren slopes with greenery. The sound of insects breaking between the treetops and grasses is constantly heard, like a symphony being rehearsed, echoing in the green fields, and the barren mountains of August are also much more vivid. The wasteland beside the road was full of pumpkins, green vines running all over the ground, swhikering like pythons, and those tendrils sizzling like snake letters. The golden flowers are like burning torches, held high, like the horn of an old-fashioned gramophone, melodious and melodious. The sesame seeds in the field are like upright whips, the poles are already full of green sesame pods, the leaves are fat and green, and some of them are topped with white sesame flowers. The sesame blossoms are so joyful that they raise their eyebrows and breathe, one by one, showing off their beauty. August lands, because they are also full of a lot.
My mother and I took the peppercorn pickers and stepped on the overgrown path toward the peppercorn trees on the ground. The row of pepper trees grew on the edge of the slope of the ground, surrounded by wild grass, and there was no open space at all. Presumably, the people who planted it in the first place were to protect the tung trees planted on this wasteland, and planted several pepper trees on the ground. Perhaps underestimating the aggressive forces of the weeds and shrubs on the slopes, and neglecting to manage them in ordinary days, the weeds and shrubs that are now rampant in the field are those weeds and shrubs, which unscrupulously encroach on every inch of land and fight against the tung trees with great might. There are not many tung trees, and a few scattered trees are surrounded by thorny weeds, a paradise of barren grass. Even the peppercorn tree has become a masterless outcast, blossoming and bearing fruit in loneliness, and only when the fruit is ripe, will anyone remember it and let it be picked.
Because of "free range", the pepper tree does not grow too high, and the peppercorns on the tree are definitely not fruitful, and the quality is not a good fruit. Some branches are dense, and some branches are scattered. Red peppercorns, ten in groups, eight in groups gathered together. Some stood on the branches shaking their heads, while others hid among the dense foliage and whispered, as if admiring the beauty of the August wilderness.
Mom stomped on the thorny weeds next to the tree, so easy to approach the pepper tree, so she took the long sickle hook in one hand, took the soft branches over, and with the other hand, she picked up the scissors and "clicked" to cut the branches with the peppercorns. My task was to pick up the cut branches into the woven bag, the thorns on the pepper branches were like wolf's tooth sticks, and I didn't pay attention to an intimate hug with the delicate hand, I don't know how many times I was "kissed", and I regretted that I didn't wear gloves. But this is not nothing, sometimes straight up, the horizontal branch, either hooked the hair, or pulled the clothes, stunned is not, left and right.
Xu is used to labor, and his mother is still so sharp, cutting non-stop. I couldn't catch up, let alone nestled in thorny weeds, and I was a little breathless. The weather was already damp and hot, not to mention that there was a thunderstorm yesterday, coupled with the green vegetation on the slope, which made people feel like a sauna: the sweat on the face was numb on the face, and then it flowed down the cheeks like a stream, and the body seemed to be crawling with earthworms. There seemed to be a spring in the hair, gushing down. The hair was all wet, and one strand after another was attached to the door of the head. The clothes were already soaking wet, and it was like a wet cloth wrapped around the body. Sweating is really so appropriate, sweat flows into the eyes, the hand rubbing of picking peppercorns is not, not wiping is not, had to pick up the placket and make a random touch. There are many mosquitoes in the grass, although I wear long sleeves and trousers, wrapped quite tightly, the hateful mosquitoes are still pervasive, and they can also bite people with extreme itching through clothes, not to mention the bare face and ears, which have simply become a disaster place, and the mosquitoes have stamped countless "red seals", which makes people a little embarrassed.
There was not a trace of wind on the barren slope, and it seemed particularly silent. Looking around at the bushes that were taller than people, I was a little frightened for no reason, always worried about something coming out of the grass. Mom changed places, and I dragged my bag and stumbled through the bushes. In a few moments, a few pepper trees were almost cut, leaving only sporadic and unreachable places. Mom walked through the densely packed bushes, ready to take a look elsewhere. After I finished picking up the ground and dragging the bag through the weeds, I couldn't see my mother's figure, I tried to shout a few times, and no one answered. I suddenly became frightened, and the bushes around me were rushing towards me with their teeth and claws, and I panicked and tried to find a way out. But where there was a road, I struggled through the thorny weeds, either tripped by the weeds on the ground or hung by the horizontal thorns.
Fortunately, mom walked around, didn't find a new target, and the bag was almost full, so we decided to go back. At this time, my mother looked at the needle trees on the slope full of green and sour dates, and said with some excitement: "This year's sour dates will be able to pick sour dates immediately, I don't know what the price will be this year." Compared with peppercorn trees, the needle tree is not artificially planted, wild everywhere, and most of them grow on the edge of the ditch cliff, and they are also covered with sharp thorns. Peppercorns are good in that they can be cut with scissors, but wild sour dates can only be picked by hand one by one, desolate mountains and wild mountains, how unsafe a person is! Thinking of the difficulty of just now, I tried my best to stop my mother from thinking about it. But my mother said: "I am used to it, it is uncomfortable to do nothing, and I feel open in my heart when I run around on the slope."
What can I say? This was my parents, sweating, working hard, and exhausting themselves when they were young. Even if they are old, they should enjoy the blessings, but they are still tireless and still work tirelessly. It is not only my parents, but also many farmers who love the land, who have worked all their lives, worked silently, got up early and greedy, faced the loess and turned their backs to the sky, sweating. They do not argue, do not seek, do not covet, do not covet... They are just giving! Just selfless giving! Dedication in the fields, dedication in the four seasons, silently and diligently dedicated! They are like thorns that spread over the mountains, brave and strong. Like this pepper seed wild sour date, it is simple and unpretentious. I am often proud to be a farmer's child, because I have inherited from them the qualities of hard work and steadfastness.
The peppercorns were red, and how much sweat was soaked in the fragrant peppercorns. In that tempting dish, there is a lot of love for the land.
【Author Profile】:Li Dongmei, the screen name sits and watches Yunqi, a lover of literature, records life with words, and lyrics life with articles.