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Biography
Li Xuesong was born in Manas County, Xinjiang after 70. He began his literary career in 1990. His poetry and prose works have appeared in newspapers and magazines such as Green Wind, Western China, Literary Circles, Oasis, Ground Fire, Chinese Writers, Xinjiang Petroleum Literature, Turpan Literature, Ili Daily, Bortala Literature and Art, etc. He is a member of the first writers' training class of Mao Zedong Literature Institute, a member of the Xinjiang Writers Association, a member of the China Petroleum Writers Association, and the vice chairman of the Karamay Writers Association.
poetry
I saw my father coming home on the balcony
(Swipe up to see the original article)
Early morning on the balcony on a spring day
I saw my father walking home
Crowded side street
Walking my father
Walking in my father's silver-gray tracksuit
And silver gray tracksuit with pale white hair
Walking my father alone
Quietly looking at father
I was suddenly so sad
I remembered my father's usual appearance
Remembering his old age
His hair had thinned
Reading newspapers wearing reading glasses
He couldn't recognize the words on the TV
Sometimes I forget what I just did
He had a bad temper when he was young
Now he's behaving like a child
For some reason, looking at father
I am often in addition to happiness
I can't suppress the sadness in my heart
Father's footsteps slowly and slowly
He walked through patches of the sun
Walk through a piece of time
His walk
How like a kind of wordless storytelling
How it looks like years have passed
——Published in the third issue of the "Green Wind" poetry journal in 2017
I miss you with a prairie
Tonight, the grassland is silent as a mystery
Rest of the gods The wind is no longer blowing
Moments like this
What a fit for nostalgia
Missing someone in the prairie
I don't have a better way
Pour out all I
Only this sleepless night remained
and a prairie
All right
I will miss you with a prairie
Remember you with the springs, breezes and insects of the prairie
With the night, with the stones, with the moonlight that flows everywhere, I miss you
With high stars
And the grassroots buried deep in the ground miss you
With dew on the tip of the grass, the footprints of the horse's hooves
Miss you with flowers kissed by butterflies
Use a horse lamp hanging in front of the door of an old felt room
And its orange light
Miss you
How serene the prairie is tonight
I will miss you with this peaceful prairie
No, none of this is enough
Except for these miss you
And add me
This long and quiet life
Starry Night Whispers
If I give you such a night
I became a man with nothing
And listen --
A breeze brushes through the spring woods
It spawned a few new branches
The leaf spat out lemon yellow and was dyed emerald green
The apricot blossoms are shy and only bloom a thousand piles of snow
What a sleeping person at the moment
Let me tell you about this night
Say with you I became the happiest person in the world
Two Stars rise to the sleeping bed in the sky
It lights up a thousand lights
The clouds are traceless and can be used as a light and warm thin coat
a loud voice, a low voice
Am I a hasty intruder?
A person who is used to being quiet and letting listen more than he can tell
I want to take advantage of the night to go to the Milky Way
Whose dream did a paddle microwave pop into?
The stars were silent all night
This is the diamond of the universe
They are mysterious, tall, and have a faint desolation
I can't understand one of them
It's like I can't understand the night
The starry night is boundless
The quiet beauty of this heaven and the nobility of nature
What is happiness It is not rare for me
Weep for a night of quiet starlight without feeling sad
It was a deepest pleasure
The night is like water that has fed my eyes blue
The sky is a huge river
The world is quiet
I want to fall deeply in love with such truth and beauty
——Published in Literary Circles, No. 4, 2012
prose
New leeks in early spring, late autumn and late autumn - I read Wang Zengqi
Reading Wang Zengqi's text, I often have this feeling, you think it is good, but for a while you can't say where it is good.
Once, I read a sentence in Mr. Lao She's "How I Learn Languages": "No matter what I write, I always hope to be able to fully trust the vernacular." At the moment, I thought that if we talk about "writing big vernacular", Wang Zengqi can be regarded as a good hand.
After reading a large number of world literary and artistic masterpieces, Mr. Lao She, the world-recognized literary master, confirmed: "The best works in the world are almost the works with simple and concise writing. So I thought, yes, "shallow and concise" is the charm of Wang Lao's writing. His works are worthy of these four words.
Not to mention the poetry and sentimentality of "Grass and Trees on Earth", nor the joy and freedom of "Four Square Food", I want to say that it is a collection of essays written by people, "A Generation of Ancients". The works included in this collection are not Wang Zengqi's most famous works, nor do they represent the essence of Wang's prose, but they are just as fresh and timeless, which is deeply loved by me.
An old man who lived alone in the downtown area with his encounter became a living Zhuangzi in the eyes of Elder Wang. "His plucking fish is a must. Sit in a small pot with water and use a thinly cut chopstick to 'drive' the thin noodles along the bowl into the pot. He kept plucking fish, and a bowl of plucked fish was one, and the thickness was the same. I would rather miss a ride to see him catch a fish. Such a text, informal, kind and gentle as a home chat, but delicate and delicate like a small bridge flowing water, reading often makes people intentionally unfinished.
He wrote about a fool, and did not describe him as unbearable, he said: "Two small round eyes, the bridge of the nose is very low, almost nothing." "How refined and clean, can not be simplified." He walked up and down the sidewalk one day. It's a slow walk. Step by step, step by step. "It's amazing, these few words, no more, no less, the meaning is just right. I seemed to see the man, the lonely and lonely fool walking alone in front of me, and his steps seemed to have a sense of rhythm. He asked the fool, "Why don't you get married?" The fool pointed his finger at his temple: "Here, it's bad!" "It can be seen that this fool does not understand nothing. Every time I read this, I feel a little sad for him for no reason, knowing that I am a fool, than not knowing that I am a fool, how much better can I go?
In recalling Mr. Jin Yuelin's article, Mr. Wang said: "Mr. Jin once gave a lecture to someone, and while he was talking, he suddenly stopped: 'I'm sorry, I have a small animal here.'" He put his right hand into the back of his neck, caught a flea, and pinched it in his fingers to look at it, very proud. "In just a few strokes, Mr. Jin's simple and funny, distinctive image is in front of him.
Mr. Wang said: "Telling the truth and making people laugh is a real clown." "I thought so too. He wrote about the famous Peking Opera, Youguan Shengji, saying that he was a "cold-faced clown", who not only entertained people on the stage, but also was so funny in life, and when he died, he was also funny.
Guan Shengji was ill for a long time, and the family knew that his illness was incurable, so they prepared the aftermath for him and bought a birthday coat. One day he asked his family to dress him up, all dressed, and said, "Bring me a mirror." He looked in the mirror, "Well, that's the virtue!" How admirable and sighing is this "seeing death as sleep" freedom, and how many people care about such a mind, who can compare with it? Another day, he was very bad, the family was busy, afraid that he would not be able to get by today. But he said angrily, "Don't be busy. I'm not leaving today. It's raining outside today and I don't have an umbrella. This passage of text, natural and interesting, is obviously a common gossip, written by him, but it adds a lot of wonderful charm.
Wang Lao's writing, known for its white depictions, has both the simple and refined style of the discarded name, and the empty and clear style of The Teacher Shen Congwen, which has become a simple and neat style. "Scattered and solemn, surging and plump" is the true taste of Wang Zengqi's works.
He spoke of his father in a calm tone: "He is the smartest man I know." "It's like talking about someone else's father." He said, "My father did not paint very often in the second half of his life, and he was known for his laziness. "How lazy is Father?" His studio was piled with rice paper sent by the painter, with a red stick on it. Once, my stepmother reminded him: 'You should draw these pieces of paper.' The father looked at the red sign and said, "This man is dead." "It's a real laugh. Ren Yun: It is really true to write that one person is both portrait and one person kissing! Since people are dead, they naturally no longer need to rush to paint, and they are too lazy to say even the meaning of words, and their laziness is evident. This short sentence, without a trace but can be playful, a "lazy father" with a loose and determined nature is about to come out.
I always thought that Wang's idyllic and gentle style of writing was related to his accessible, frank and natural personality. In Why I Write, he describes himself as "indisputable and temperamental." And his accessible disposition seems to be deeply influenced by his father.
He said: "My father was a very easy-going person. I had my first love at the age of seventeen, and during the summer vacation, I was writing love letters at home, and he was blindly making up his mind! He drank and poured me a drink too. Smoking, he took one for me, and he always lit me a fire first. Such a text, can't help but make people smile, this is really "many years father and son into brothers", presumably he is very popular with such a dear father's love, because the tone of the voice reveals a hint of pride. Wang Lao's prose does not seem to have much profound thought, but this frank character is particularly touching to read. He wrote that his father painted well, but he did not spend much ink on his painting method and painting skills, just to give an example, but he deserved to be a big coincidence: "Yangzhou has a famous chrysanthemum species 'Xiao Color', and my father said that this color is the worst to paint. 'Xiao Se' is very ethereal and elusive. He painted it, and when I looked at it, it was Xiao Se! "This section is fresh and unworldly, simple and beautiful, and my father's extraordinary painting skills jump on the paper, which is really wonderful! Chew carefully, can't help but chin - this "dawn color", really can only understand, can not be said.
Wang Zengqi's writing, which integrates daily spoken language, dialect, folk literature and classical literature, is amiable and perceptible, self-contained, and makes people fall in love with it. Wang Anyi once said: "Wang Zengqi's writing can be said to be the easiest to read. Always the most mundane word, compose the most ordinary sentence, say the most ordinary thing. I also have a lot to say to me. His "Garden", "Miscellaneous Memories of Old Diseases", "Tea House", "Old Age", and "Big Moms" are all the same.
Elder Wang seems to be a good-tempered person, he said, "People can not be too stubborn, living in the world, on the one hand, need to be serious, sometimes can only be indifferent." "How impressive that is. Speaking of haircuts, Mr. Wang is also a story, he claims that he often compromises on haircuts, just a barbershop, drill into it. "The barber asked about this and that, and I just said 'follow you'! Patience gave him a head. Such a sentence, with simplicity to overcome complexity, simplicity contains the most flavor, can be described as the ultimate of brilliance after the return to blandness.
He has a wise heart, good at perceiving and capturing the "god" of the characters, he writes a lifeless church, without rhetoric, sloppy writing, but the end of the god form, as in front of the eyes: "He sees others laughing, others are frustrated, he has no expression." His eyes were empty and indifferent, not looking at anyone. The guest ordered food, saying that he was such a flat, not tall, not low, not coarse, not fine, not emotional 'well'. We ordered dumplings, and he didn't either. After waiting for half a day, the dumplings did not come, and we called him: 'What about dumplings?' ''There are no dumplings. ''Then you don't say?'' ''I'm sorry for you!'' His square face was not at all out of place, and his eyes were still empty. "What a subtle, evocative description, a few simple strokes, full of charm, this giddy hall is already standing in front of you." In this section, the wordless place is also a wonderful situation, the writing is completely inorganic, but it is light and fluent, and it is wonderful to the point of no turn.
I often wonder why ordinary, ordinary everyday spoken language has a special charm as soon as it arrives at Wang Zengqi's pen. Thinking about it, Gai because he really achieved "the monk only speaks ordinary words".
Wang Lao's learning has been in both Chinese and Western, and he is proficient in piano, chess, calligraphy and painting, and is deeply influenced by classical literature such as ancient prose and note-taking novels, but he never shows off his knowledge and piles up rhetoric in articles, he only speaks homely, vernacular, and big truths. Therefore, his language is not only close to the people, grounded, fresh and full of vitality, but also simple and rich, pure and pure, and evocative.
He wrote a selection of speeches from Mr. Tang Lichang, a professor at Southwest United University: "'The sideburns are fragrant and red, and the jade noodles are phoenixed. --Good! That's nice! A "Flower Collection" is finished. Did the students understand? Got it! From his dream-like voice and expression, he realized the beauty of Wen Feiqing's words. To talk is not to speak, not to speak is to speak. "Such a special lecture is truly amazing! There is a saying that "the wind is not in the conversation, the sleeve is the longest", for the appreciation of literary and artistic works, a thousand words are not as good as Mo Yan. Many times, like an object, a person, a word, maybe you just have to say "That's good!" "That's enough.
In "Self-Reporting at home", Wang Zengqi said to himself the style of article he longed for: "I longed for what Su Shi said: 'Like the flow of clouds and water, there is no certainty at the beginning, but it is often done in what should be done, often stopped at what must be done, and the literary rationality is natural, and the posture is full of life. Elder Wang also said that the beauty of language is not in a sentence, but in the relationship between sentences. He said of Bao Shichen's comment on Wang Xi's zigzag: "It seems to be uneven, but if the old man carries his young grandson, Gu Pan has feelings, and the pain and itch are related." Good language is just that. "I think that Mr. Wang's words can also be viewed as such.
"A Generation of Ancients" is mostly written about people, not only depicting Wang Lao's childhood events, parents and teachers, but also the noble people and nobles he has seen and heard, and the characters of the city, which can be described as the three religions and nine streams.
Elder Wang's life was civilian. He loves food and life, and claims that the three pleasures of his life are writing, painting, and cooking. Therefore, he always has a kind, warm and inclusive examination of all the sentient beings in his own writing. Whether it is an intellectual or a stream of pulp sellers, there is no appearance of a humble and vulgar and disgusting city servant, but a faint, high-minded and self-congratulatory ancient meaning emanating from the inside out.
The style of Wang Lao's writing in his later years has reached the old age, the writing is innocent and simple, not carved, sparse and clean, with a slightly cold frost, better than the blooming flowers, it can be said that the lead is washed away and understood.
In 1987, when Wang Zengqi's first collection of essays, "Puqiao Collection", was published, he could not resist the repeated invitations of the Writers Publishing House, and Wang Zengqi, who was sixty-seven years old at the time, had no choice but to write an advertising slogan to himself:
Qi Baishi claimed to be the first in poetry, the second in words, and the third in painting. Some people say that Wang Zengqi's prose is better than fiction. It's inconclusive, but it makes sense.
This collection of chapters, personnel, scenery, culture, palm history, as well as grass, trees, insects, fish, melons and fruits, all have feelings. Intercropping small examinations can also be happy. Talk eloquently, with a kind attitude and no reserved attitude. Wen qiu ya clean, less carving, such as the flow of clouds and flowing water. New leeks in early spring, late autumn and late pineapple, the taste is similar.
A few strokes are outlined, but the words are concise, the wind is chuchu, and the heart is refreshing.
When I first read this article, I was fascinated. In particular, "new leeks in early spring, late autumn and late pineapple, taste similar" A few words are very wonderful. What is the best taste of food? But is it not this "new leek in early spring, late autumn and late pineapple".
It is not easy to evaluate one's own words, to be generous and not to be reserved, and the most rare thing is to talk about "food", which can be called vulgar and elegant, and its taste is relished. Elder Wang is a man, always like a childish wild boy, a young man, this is really the master's own situation is still the face of the old man, the old age is rare but still has the heart of a child.
Good riddance! There is nothing more in the world than this.
——Published in the fourth issue of West, 2017
And send the broken shadow to the year
1
Eleven long holidays, my husband was delayed in his business trip in the province, and I decided to take the elementary school students home.
When I received my call, my mother was overjoyed and immediately went to the market with my father. When I arrived home with the primary school students, I couldn't stop myself, and I already had chicken, duck and fish dishes on the table. Looking at the table full of fireworks red, green and green, I couldn't help but feel a heat in my heart, and my eye sockets suddenly became wet. Since I started a family, I have rarely had time to visit my parents, and often only meet once during the New Year's Holidays. Perhaps, in the eyes of my parents, I am still the little girl who was hungry. At the table that day, I ate a lot of meat dishes, and the meal was really fragrant. I was also very relieved to see my parents happy.
After dinner, I had tea in the living room with my parents and gossiped. Elementary school students have their cousin Xiaoxing to play with, and they have run out early. My mother only said that I was tired along the way, and I didn't want my father to talk to me again, and I must let me sleep for a while. I have always slept less, but this time I have slept deeply. I used the purple flower quilt I had covered last time, gently ironed, and I smelled the familiar breath again.
When I woke up, my mother was already cooking evening porridge in the kitchen. The sound of the TV was very small, and the two naughty bags were rarely quiet. When I asked, it turned out that my mother had warned them not to argue with me.
Father watered the flowers in an old enamel jar, which is now as ugly as an antique. I remembered the enamel cup I used to drink water when I was a child, with a blue edge on a white background, two peonies printed on it, one Yao Huang and one Wei Zi, the flowers were full of flowers, and there was a kind of vulgar kindness in the thick colors, and now I don't know where to go. Momentarily shy.
The furniture raised at home is a common flower. Bougainvillea, swallow palm, fragrant wood, bamboo, green basket, begonia, and a pot of newly bought cherry peppers. The cherry pepper grows very vigorously, the dark green leaves are delicate, and three small peppers grow in between, one red, one yellow and one purple, and the upper and lower points are rounded together, which is really beautiful. The elementary school students were quite surprised and looked at it for a long time.
2
This time, I went back and met my old childhood friend Reiko. The last time I saw her was the Mid-Autumn Festival of last year. I still remember that I and she held hands to say goodbye under the tree, and Tong Yin was quiet, cherishing each other, but I didn't feel afraid.
Make an appointment to go to her little shop to find her, and then go to eat a small hot pot together. Shortly after going out, I found that the weather was not good. I had the heart to go back and get an umbrella with me, but I didn't bother to climb the stairs again. So I crossed my heart and went forward, fortunately, the distance was not far.
Ling is the youngest daughter of aunt Lin of the old neighbor and my playmate since childhood.
Now Ling, who has opened an old Beijing cloth shoe shop in the small town, welcomes and sends her to take care of the business every day. Although the small shop is booming, the life is sloppy, and it is often impossible to eat on time. Her husband is a freight driver, and every time he leaves the car, he will not return for three or five days, and the feelings between the two are not salty or light. The daughter who went to elementary school was unattended, and every day after school, she consciously came to the store to write homework. Ling sometimes handed her a little pocket money, and bought two green onion cakes or a bowl of brine noodles at the small restaurant next door, but begged for a full belly.
I worried about her for no reason, and I also privately advised Ling to cherish her body, so that my daughter could eat better. But she didn't care, always saying that she was used to suffering, and these were nothing.
Knowing that I was coming, Ling sent her daughter to her grandmother's house early and waited for me in the store. As soon as we met, she greeted me happily, looked me up and down, and praised me for the beauty of my skirt. He said, "Do you think I'm thinner than I was last time?" I'm losing weight. "She is slightly chubby, her complexion is also white, and she has a touch of plump beauty.
3
After sitting for half a day, from time to time someone came to see the shoes. We talked intermittently, because we talked about Sister Rong, whom we had not seen for a long time. Ling's sister Rong married far away, gave birth to a daughter who was born sick, often had to seek medical treatment and medicine, and now seeing a doctor is like burning money, and life is miserable. When Ling talked about her sister, she almost choked up and said darkly: She has not been home for a long time.
The world is so difficult, I don't know how to explain, I can only accompany her helpless sigh.
It was time for dinner, and we went to dinner hand in hand. The hot pot restaurant is full of people, rendering a kind of worldly joy. In the mist, I sat in the corner and chatted with her. For a moment, I was in a trance, thinking I was dreaming. But it was clear that I was with my childhood friend.
Speaking of the past, she gradually became cheerful. My friend, she once cut a cloth pocket out of a few small holes and contained two live "walking chickens" wading through the mountains to see me. On the long-distance bus, she was almost kicked off by the driver because of the rooster's barking. All this is simply incredible in my miracle. One summer, I came home from vacation and took my three-year-old son to see her. When I picked vegetables with her, I just casually told her the joke that my son mistakenly recognized cabbage as spinach. After dinner, she actually launched a motorcycle, so serious that she wanted to take my son to her parents' house in the countryside to meet the spinach grown in the field...
In the long sound of the city, such warm memories often move me to tears.
I remember she said she still had land in the countryside and was now hiring people to plant it. When I retired, she would accompany me back to the countryside to plant flowers and vegetables, raise chickens and ducks. She understands me. Looking forward to such a rich future, we smiled happily for a long time.
It was getting dark and I was leaving. Ling sent me to the east end of the market and let me sit again when I had time. At that time, it was raining lightly in the gray sky, and we both took shelter under the eaves for a while. Seeing that the rain was getting heavier, afraid that my mother was in a hurry, she insisted on holding up an umbrella to send me.
On the way, she told me about the demolition of her family's ancestral home in the future, and I knew her sadness, but there was no language to comfort her.
4
That evening, the showers did not clear up, and it was still falling after nightfall. I lay in bed listening to the rain, completely sleepy. I remembered that in the past, every time I came back to the garden where my mother used to go for a walk, I didn't know what the situation was now, and I had the intention of going there for a walk.
The next morning, the weather was clear. My mother was still asleep, and I was chatting with my mother late last night. After greeting his father, he closed the door and went downstairs. The leaves of the mulberry tree in front of the building are golden as jade, which attracts people's attention. Looking up at the sky, the blue sky is like a wash, and the breeze is not in my heart.
It was still early, and there was not a single pedestrian in the garden. On the trail, the leaves of the ash fell to the ground, and the woods were deep and dense. Walking in the woods, the deep coolness struck, and I was glad that I had dressed more when I went out. A moment of wind shook the ground and danced.
The buildings in the garden are sparse, with only a few pavilions with cornices, two wooden bridges, and a curved corridor. When I came home in the summer, I often cooled off in the pavilion with my mother. The dust was so thick that we didn't want to leave because it was hot elsewhere.
At this time, there were altar chrysanthemums under the pavilion that had withered in large areas, and those flowers had withered into small clumps because of the loss of water, but they were still high. The ancient poem has the sentence "I would rather hold the incense plant to grow old, and not dance with the yellow leaves in the autumn wind", which is very suitable for the scene this time.
Stop and go, come to the small corridor on the pool. The water is green and dark, and the blades of grass on the shore hang into the water silently, leisurely, leisurely.
In the center of the pool, dozens of tails of jinli are slowly swimming. The leaves of the water lilies are like round and thin green paws spread on the water, and two or three water lilies bloom quietly. One is snow white and dusty, and one is pink like a Lingbo fairy. The two of them are silent with a pool of clear water, like a beautiful person taking pictures. I held on to the railing and looked at it for a long time.
5
The days at home are like retreat, only to feel that the sun and the moon are calm and the heart is determined, often unconsciously, it can be another day.
After a day of dinner, I went with my mother to the newly completed South Park. The sky is still bright, and there are many people. Someone over there in the small square was dancing aerobics. We looked for a quiet path, first side by side, and before we knew it, it became me in front and my mother in the back. So he stopped and waited for her, and took her arm and walked together.
Sit down in a chair. My mother saw that I had a white hair on my head and wanted to pull it out for me. I tilted my head slightly, and Ren's mother's hand gently flicked between my hair, enjoying it. Because I remembered that in the past, I pulled out my mother's white hair, and now, as if overnight, many of my mother's hair were white, and I could no longer pull it out, and I didn't have to pull it out again. Suddenly speechless, my heart was filled with boundless sorrow and sadness.
With my mother, I am talking about nothing more than old things, and my mother loves to say it, and I am willing to listen to it. I like the smell of affection that lingers in it, which often gives me the illusion that I was still the same person I was when I was young, and my mother was still the mother when I was young.
Dong Qiao said: "What really makes life rich is often the forgotten dust and shadow of the past. It was an old root lurking deep in the heart, and if you forgot to water it, it would not dry up. "I thought so too.
If I compare life to morning dew, fleeting but beautiful, I think I may have tasted a trace of its purity.
Taibai has a poetic cloud: "The one who is the master of heaven and earth, the anti-journey of all things; the one who is time and yin, the guest of hundreds of generations." "Chaos is like me, or failing to understand the deep taste of it. However, today, when I write these words of fragmented shadows and sporadic memories, I can't help but realize that the world's greatest, most ruthless and most emotional things are only time.
This can be a memory
When I was a child, there was a grandmother next door who was very good at growing melons. Carrying a small hoe, she dug a little on this side of the yard and dug a little over there, and didn't seem to do anything. But before long, wherever she went, a few small, green seedlings would grow.
I don't know what she planted. When the young seedlings spread their leaves and grew a layer of villi, I recognized them as the leaves of a pumpkin or zucchini. These increasingly fattening leaves have been furrowed and climbed uphill, and some have climbed directly up the wall of my house with their enchanting tentacles. After only half a month of hard work, an airtight blanket was spread out on the wall, as if a green coat was put on the wall.
The wind was blowing, the leaves on the wall were huddled together, you pushed me, I bumped you, much like a bunch of naughty children playing and making trouble. The wind stopped, they quieted down, and they looked like shy little girls again.
For some reason, I always like to lie on the wall and look at my grandmother's house, and I think my grandmother's appearance is very kind. She didn't know how old she was, but she was still very strong, and she was an idle person, doing this and that in the yard every day. I watched her go in and out of the hut all day, busy in the yard, and could watch for a long time.
Grandma hadn't been here for long, and I wasn't familiar with her. I only heard the adults say that this place was originally lived by her son's family, but somehow moved away and replaced it with them.
My house and her house were separated only by a low red brick wall half a person high, and the wall was built low, but it only separated the vegetable fields of the two families.
I always like to lie on the wall and look over there, she probably knows it, but she doesn't look like she's seeing me. I watched with ease as she slowly did many things—
When it was time to feed the chickens, she took out a large old enamel pot from the house and placed it on the windowsill, and from it she held a bunch of yellow corn kernels and sprinkled it on the ground, sprinkled another bunch, and then summoned the chicken to eat. The chickens finished pecking at the corn and went their separate ways. I watched her take half a bucket of water from the house, pour it into a cement trough on the edge of the yard, and walk slowly toward the other end of the house. Walking around the corner of the house, the back of the hump was invisible for a moment. Soon she came out, holding an old cow in her hand and calling it to drink. But the cow just didn't drink, twisting its head and looking to the side in a daze, as if it were very sad.
I don't have chickens or pigs. When I asked, the adults said that the chickens were so dirty when they all over the yard; the pigs, who loved to roll in the muddy water, ate and drank Lasa in one place, and were even more of a bury. From this, I inexplicably envy the families of those who are full of chickens and ducks and have cattle, sheep, cats and dogs. I vaguely remember that my family did have cats.
Grandma's wife was a tall man, but she didn't look like Grandma's kind, and I was a little afraid of him. He doesn't like to laugh, looks quite serious, and occasionally teases me. As soon as he put on a grimace, the somewhat black and red skin was all crowded together, but his eyes were round, and his face was an expression that seemed to be smiling rather than smiling, like crying and not crying, which really made people cry and laugh. Although he was well-intentioned, I was still not very close to him, always because he was a man who did not smile.
I rarely saw Grandpa walking around the yard, not knowing what he was doing in the house all day long.
Grandma's family has a lot of chickens, so we buy Grandma's eggs to eat. At that time, selling eggs was all about children, and many families were selling eggs, and Grandma felt that we were buying her eggs to take care of her meaning. After counting the eggs, after paying the money, and giving one more, the mother naturally did not want it. Between pushes, Grandma quickly stuffed the egg into my pocket, stroked my head, and said, "Just when I give it to you, see how well the little one grows." ”
That one egg made the mother very unhappy. After two days, the family made delicious food, so they asked me to bring some to my grandmother's house. When I returned home, My grandmother had boiled two red-skinned eggs and stuffed me with a handful of sweet dates. When my mother saw it, she knew it in her heart. In the middle school where my mother taught, she would also divide cabbage, fish, rice noodles, and clear oil during the New Year's Festival. When you come and go, my mother will often send some to me to send to my grandmother. I was very pleased with my mother's dispatch, and since I was a child, I had a natural affection for the elderly and amiable old man.
I became a regular visitor to my grandmother's house, and I casually stepped on something and flipped to my grandmother's house to play. He said he was going to play, but he was following grandma like a little tail. Grandma planted vegetables, I took a small shovel to shovel the soil; Grandma watered, I also used a small jar to scoop water, but the water was all poured elsewhere; Grandma fed the chickens, I also scrambled to sprinkle corn beans on the ground, Grandma said enough chickens to eat, but I did not listen, Grandma never blamed me.
One day, when I was having a thirsty day, my grandmother led me to the house to pour water to drink. After drinking the water, Grandma felt two fruit candies from nowhere and held them up to me with a smile. I was happy, and quickly peeled one into My Grandmother's mouth, and peeled another one to myself. As I ate the sugar, I happily folded the sugar paper and played. Grandma saw that I was so happy, thought about it, and asked me, "What about your grandmother?" Does she hurt you? I was stunned for a while before I said, "Yes, but I haven't seen her, she died a long time ago." Grandma didn't say anything more, just sighed softly.
Grandpa used to cough, and he occasionally went out of the house a few times, turned around in front of the house and behind the house, and lay on the bed resting, as if he was sick.
Almost every day after school, I would go to my grandmother's house for a while. As soon as my mother didn't see me, she knew I was at my grandmother's house, and when she shouted across the wall, I went back. They wondered why I was so close to an old woman, but I couldn't say why.
The days flowed as calmly as the water in a small river. In September of that year, I was in third grade. One day, when I came home from school, I saw many people coming from my grandmother's yard, and they were carrying things outside, what pots, bowls, tables, stools were piled up on the ground. I recognized that there was Grandma's son in the group, and in my little heart, I suddenly had an ominous premonition--Is Grandma leaving?
I panicked and ran to my grandmother's house. I saw a big liberation car parked at the gate of my grandmother's house, people were loading things on it, and I ran into the yard again. Grandma was being helped out of the house, her eyes red, clearly crying. Grandma saw me and took me into her arms for a long time before she let go. Grandma wrapped her arms around me so tightly and kept rubbing my hair and cheeks with her hands, and I felt her heavy and suppressed cries, and my little heart ached and I couldn't help but cry...
In the world, there are many things that we cannot understand. After a few days of sadness, I slowly got better. Later, I heard my mother say that My grandfather and grandmother were picked up by their son, and that my grandmother had lived here for nine months and also showed her son the house, and now the house was looking for a buyer. Grandma didn't want to leave, but the son didn't agree...
From spring to late autumn, she was my grandmother for more than nine months.
At that time, the pumpkin flowers on the wall had already bloomed. Once, one by one, they were shining in the sun, and I only looked good, but I never noticed their loneliness.
After Grandma left, the zucchini knotted on the vine was old, and the little pumpkin was like a golden lantern. It occurred to me that Grandma had planted it as if she had never eaten it before, and she looked at them as if she were looking at a small child. I remembered again that Grandma and Grandpa seemed to laugh very little, Grandma always loved to stay in the yard, and Grandpa was bored in the house all day. They are like people of two worlds. I seem to understand, perhaps, that Grandma did not grow melons to eat it, but just to pass away loneliness.
In the small courtyard next door, the gate has been closed tightly, and I don't know why no one has come to live for a long time. The house where Grandma had lived was also locked, the old cow and the flock of chickens were gone, and the yard became so silent and desolate for a while. Those little pumpkins and zucchini grew old lonely in the wind one by one, and no one cared about them anymore.
After that, the sun rose as usual, time passed day by day, and the seasons changed several cycles as usual. Until my family moved away, I never saw the grandmother again.
Kasuga Shimi
In the spring of that year, my parents in their seventies decided to return to their hometown in Shandong. When to go, the day is set before the Qingming. I asked the unit for annual leave to accompany them.
On the day of departure, it was light rain, and the airport radio broadcast the news of the delay of the plane from time to time. My parents and I waited in the waiting hall, bored, and at first paid attention to the announcements on the radio, but gradually stopped listening. In the dazed waiting, tiredness struck. I don't know how long later, I suddenly got the news that we were ready to board the plane, so we sat down in a disorderly hurry. During the time waiting for take-off, the brain was dazed, as if it were in a different dimension of space.
The fuselage vibrated slowly and quickly lifted off into the air, and there was a flash of light on the side. I ended my long stay at home in the north and was thrown into a short journey. More than three hours of wandering in the air made me trance,numb and exhausted.
The city that will soon land is Zhengzhou.
We took the high-speed train from Zhengzhou to Shangqiu and took a long-distance bus. The first stop on the trip was Cao County, Shandong, my parents' hometown.
In his hometown, my father had no relatives anymore. Only his third brother, my third uncle, is still alive, and my father went to see him. On the day of arrival. It was already dusk, and the third uncle was accompanied by several cousins and cousins waiting for us. When my relatives who had been separated for a long time could not help but ask for warmth, I saw my silver-haired father and uncle holding each other's hands, their arms trembling, choking up some speechless looks, and I couldn't help but be sad.
What followed was a reunion dinner for several days in a row, with cousins taking turns. At the dinner table, I heard my father called "Seventh Uncle" by my cousins for the first time, knowing that my father was the youngest of his siblings, and he was the only one in his family who lived in distant Xinjiang.
After the first few days of hustle and bustle, life returned to calm. The Third Uncle had prepared a room with a small courtyard for us early on. In this way, we and the second cousin and the second cousin who lived across the wall became a family living together, not only eating three meals a day, but also gathering together for entertainment and chat on weekdays. The third uncle, his body is really strong, the next day he will drive his light and small old scooter to have a meal with us and get together.
The second sister-in-law is a diligent and sharp person, and the second brother is a bit thick and simple, and the two talk and do things fast and slowly, move and be quiet, which is also very suitable. Couples over the decades have passed, they know each other's temperament and personality very well, and they have a tacit understanding to the point that they can't even argue.
We got along with the second brother's family easily and happily, and the most worthwhile thing is that I ate several "rare" dishes at the second brother's house that I rarely saw in Xinjiang.
Spring plate with a green goji berry head
One morning, the light rain first stopped, and the second brother did not know when to go to the street. I came back with a bag of eggs and a few bags of greens. Putting down the eggs, the second brother threw a bag of green vegetables on the table and said to me, "See what kind of dish this is?" I keep you unknown! "I opened it and looked at it, and sure enough, I hadn't seen it. The vegetable grew watery, and pulled out a tree to see, the tender green stem had flattened round leaves, and the roots of the leaves were a little purple-red, about a little rain, looking very verdant.
Seeing that I was dazed, the second brother smiled triumphantly: "Goji berry head!" ”
"What head?" "Goji-berry-head!" Oh, this time I heard it clearly.
The head of the goji berry is the goji bud.
That's it, a new dish to the table is to be added - scrambled eggs with goji sprouts! It was cooked by the second brother himself, and he said: This is the first time I have eaten it this year!
It didn't take much effort, and this dish worked. In the white porcelain dish, the golden yellow of the egg and the turquoise of the goji leaves are combined in one place, and the color is extremely pleasing to the eye. The second brother said that only one egg was put in, and he was afraid to cover the original taste of the goji berry head, so the golden yellow only became an embellishment. This dish is really very much in line with my appetite, the goji buds contain a slight bitter taste, and if there is sweetness, there is a fragrance that cannot be replaced by other vegetables.
In fact, if you talk about eating goji buds, I am afraid that the girl in "Dream of the Red Chamber" has the most opportunity. It is said that Baochao and Tanchun discussed one day and wanted to eat a "fried goji berry sprout in oil and salt", so he sent a yahuan to send five hundred dollars to the small kitchen. Is a "fried goji sprout in oil and salt" worth five hundred dollars? Non also. You think, what a delicate and transparent person Baochao is, eating a goji bud, but the cost of twenty or thirty dollars, but sending a reward of five hundred dollars, this time, not only save those who love to chew the root of the tongue gossip, but also decently close the hearts of the people, such generosity and reasonableness, considerate subordinates, can not help but admire this girl's wisdom and training. Sure enough, even the snobbish kitchen steward, Sister-in-law Liu, said, "This is the girl who understands the body, and we only recite the Buddha for her in our hearts." ”
Come to think of it, Baochao is such a "light woman", high emotional intelligence is not to say, do not love flower powder, the room is arranged like a snow hole, the clothes are mostly plain colors, and semi-new and not old, there are no extra ornaments on the body, perfect almost to the heavens to destroy people's desires. But one day, suddenly wanted to eat a plate of "oil and salt fried goji buds", so that she was no longer like a fairy goddess who did not eat fireworks in the world, but made people feel so real and amiable.
Walking out of the alley where the second brother's family is located, it is a lively and bustling street, and the retired second brother has nothing to do, so he sees the sky on the street. Most of the time, he would take my father with him. Their so-called shopping is nothing more than dealing with the street vendors selling steamed buns, selling vegetables, and selling fruits, chatting a few words, and there is nothing to do with people to cut the price of vegetables, it does not matter if they can't cut down, anyway, the vegetables pulled into the city by small scooters are very cheap.
Since the first time I ate that goji bud, the second brother and his father would buy another handful every three to five years, sometimes stir-fried, sometimes cold. At the end of each meal, you will find that there will be more or less left in other dishes, only the plate containing goji berries will soon reach the bottom, which shows that our family loves to eat it.
Now that I think about it, it's really time for us to go. In Shandong, in the spring and April, isn't it the fattest and most tender time for all kinds of rural wild vegetables?
The goji berries in Jinghe County, Xinjiang are famous throughout the country. In addition, I have not heard of any place in Xinjiang that also produces goji berries. Jinghe County seems to be far from my city, so I never had a chance to see what the goji trees look like.
It is said that the wolfberry tree is not tall, graceful, with small lilac flowers, and is a very drought-tolerant plant. The fruit of the goji berries is not difficult to see, this thing is a must in my parental year, I often throw a handful in the chicken stew. Once, when my lover was cooking porridge, he washed it on a whim and threw it in, and when the porridge was good, his son took a sip, frowned and said, "It's hard to drink!" It smells weird! ”。 I tasted it and it was really not that tasty.
The writer I like, Wang Zengqi, not only writes well, but is also an authentic foodie. In more than one essay, he has spoken of the wild vegetable of goji berries: "Pick the tender heads of goji berries, blanch them slightly, chop them, mix them with diced sweet potatoes, pour soy sauce and vinegar sesame oil; or stir-fry them in a frying pan, all of which are extremely fragrant." ”
Look again at how he describes selling goji heads: "On a spring morning, especially after a light rain, you can hear the sound of selling goji heads (i.e., goji buds). Most of the girls selling goji berries are girls from nearby villages, and their voices are very crisp, 'Sell goji berries!' The head of the goji berry is placed in a bamboo basket, an oblong bamboo basket called the Yuanbao basket, and the head of the goji berries carries rainwater, and the girl's voice also carries rainwater. Goji berries are not worth much, and they never use scales, give a few dollars, and they can pour the whole basket to you. Girls don't think of this as a serious business, selling a little money, enough to hit a bottle of combing oil. ”
It can be seen that in the countryside, the head of the goji berries does not seem to be valuable, and it is easy to pick. But I was able to taste this delicacy by chance in my hometown, thousands of kilometers away from the city where I lived, and I didn't know whether to feel happy or regretful.
People in Jinghe County do not know whether to eat goji berries or not.
It's time for a new taste of asparagus
Speaking of asparagus, I remember that I ate it, but it must have been very small, so it did not leave too deep an impression, probably because this thing is not common in the northwest.
Previously, I had always thought that asparagus and reeds should have something to do with each other, but in fact, it was not, it is said that it was only because its tender stem resembled a new shoot of a reed that it was called "asparagus".
The first time I met asparagus was at the table of the second brother's family. The practice that day was cold mixing, first blanching the asparagus in water, and then making all two pieces of yards three layers high, white and glowing cold plates, it stood still like a green and small hill, it was really beautiful to see. When it was time to cook, the second sister-in-law scooped a spoonful of finely chopped garlic paste on top of it, and poured a plate of shiny sauce on her head. The sauce slowly flowed down, and before long, a seductive layer was poured out at the bottom of the plate. I picked up one and dipped it in the sauce before delivering it to my mouth, and it was already a fresh fragrance.
The delicacy of asparagus goes without saying, but I didn't know that it was one of the most famous specialties of my parents' hometown. Originally, as early as 2003, Cao County was named "the hometown of asparagus" by the Ministry of Agriculture, and at present, the production of asparagus in Cao County has accounted for one-sixth of the national total, which can be described as the largest green asparagus production base in China.
I don't know what asparagus looks like when it grows in the ground, but every time I see it on the street, I always have to look at it a few times, because its appearance is so clean and beautiful. At the stall selling vegetables, bundles of bales of green or white asparagus are placed in the most conspicuous position, which is perhaps the most original state after it leaves the land - green, fresh and beautiful, emerald as jade, the top buds are slightly haloed with a touch of purple, fresh as if it cannot be pinched; white, with a faint pink on the tender tip, and the stem is as white as snow, crystal clear, and it makes people salivate.
In Xinjiang, I've seen asparagus sellers in supermarkets — packed in well-sealed plastic bags, and the price is not cheap. I didn't know how to eat it at the time, but I just picked it up and looked at it, perhaps because I lacked the spirit of bold exploration of food, and in the end I didn't buy it.
Asparagus comes in three colors: green, white, and purple, and I've only seen green and white. We eat mostly green asparagus because its price is the most affordable. White asparagus is much more expensive, and I eat it no better than green asparagus, which is said to be on par with truffles in western food. Purple asparagus is even rarer.
Seeing that I love to eat, the second sister-in-law went to buy a small bundle almost every day for a week and came back.
For how to taste the delicious taste of asparagus, Taiwanese food writer Cai Lan offers a method in his "Ingredient Dictionary": eat it raw. He said, "Just eating its softest and tender tip, ordering a little soy sauce, and sending it to your mouth like that is one of the delicacies in the world." Obviously, Mr. Cai Lan understands the essence of "good ingredients should be cooked with 'subtraction'". Eaten raw, the asparagus is preserved to the maximum in its original taste and freshness, and only the tip is naturally taken for the sake of tenderness. I think that this way of eating can probably be called "big taste to simplicity".
Raw asparagus, crisp and tender, the first taste has a sweet taste, the mouth is fragrant, and there is a slight bitterness. For the sake of safety, I only dare to stop at it. I also tried only blanched asparagus, dipped in a little taste is very fresh, slightly chewy in the mouth, delicious and fragrant, the taste, can not be exhausted.
The Qing dynasty Fu cha Dun Chong said in the "Yanjing Chronicle" that "in april, asparagus is eaten with cherries, and it is the most luscious." Although it is only a short sentence, it is enough to attract people's appetite. Fucha TunChong is a Manchu and loves asparagus very much. I didn't see any cherry sellers in my hometown, so he didn't try it himself.
I went to buy asparagus more times, and gradually learned a little experience in picking asparagus. For example, to choose a thin and long, it is best to have the buds on the tip of the asparagus that have not yet been opened, so that the asparagus is relatively tender. I remember the first time I bought asparagus, the second brother took a look at it and said, "Old! I was embarrassed: "Ah, how do you know?" The second brother smiled hesitantly: "This is still necessary to say, you see the roots there are all white!" "Later, we had to use a knife to cut off the hard skin of the asparagus root.
In addition to single stir-fry, asparagus can also be served with fungus, mushrooms, shrimp and a variety of meat stews, which is a nutritious and versatile ingredient. I have eaten no less than six or seven kinds of methods in my hometown, especially the freshness of vegetarian stew.
Liang Shiqiu once talked about the delicacy of asparagus in a short article called "Dragon Whiskers", which was the old name of asparagus in the capital during the Qing Dynasty. He said that when I was a child, I had never eaten dragon whiskers, and the first time I ate dragon's whiskers was in Western food, but they were all canned goods. Later, I ate fresh dragon whiskers with ham shreds in Shanghai, which was really "bright in color and has a wonderful taste". However, what he most appreciated was the famous dish of Beiping Dongxinglou and Zhimeizhai that year, "Bad Duck Mud Braised Dragon Whiskers"—that is, the dragon whiskers that carefully chopped the head of the bad duck into purees and used to braise into segments, which he called "two delicious mixtures of different flavors." ”
Mr. Liang is a true foodie, and he obviously understands asparagus better than we do.
Cooking into the first known fennel flavor
Eat one thing a day, it's good. The name of this thing is cumin.
Cumin grows very characteristically, its stems and leaves are like feathers, blue and strong, and you can smell a rich aroma from afar.
In the hometown, cumin is a very common vegetable, if you cut off its young stem like a leek, every few days it will grow new, stubble can be eaten for a long time. When the fennel is elder, the seeds that come out are the spice cumin.
The incense of fennel, the smell is strong, people who are not used to eating it will think it is too strong, but people who like it will be obsessed with it. When I first tasted fennel, I felt a little heavy, and it was much better when I ate it the second time. Speaking of which, people who love fennel must first accept its special taste.
The first time I ate cumin, it was fried with eggs, and at first I didn't feel wonderful, but then I felt that the smell was rich and unusual. Later, I also ate a plate of fennel braised shrimp. As soon as the dish is served, a fresh fragrance wafts out, and the green silk on the plate is wrapped in white jade, which is pleasing to the eye. When you eat it in your mouth, you will feel something special - its fragrance can last for a long time without decreasing. After eating for a long time, you still feel that the words you say are still fragrant.
The smell of fennel, some people say incense, some people say stink, the mouth of the world is not necessarily the same.
Fennel seeds are shaped like melon seeds and pale green in color. When the old people cook fish stew and make brine products, it is a must-use product, and it is said to have the effect of preserving freshness, removing fishiness and de-greasing. I didn't use spices before, and I don't know who bought fennel in a spice box, which I never used.
Cumin is a medicinal food, and experienced chefs use it as a savior for meat – it's best to neutralize the flavor of meat with its rich aroma. Moreover, fennel is more absorbent than other vegetables, and this combination is probably the same as Yuan Zicai's statement in the "Suiyuan Food List" that "the tasteful one makes it out, and the tasteless one makes it in". Tao Hongjing of the Southern Dynasty also said: Boil stinky meat, a little, no odor, stinky sauce into the end is also fragrant, so it is called fennel. It can be seen that fennel and meat are cooked together, which is a match made in heaven.
We wrapped the dumplings with fennel filling, which of course was mixed with meat. The cooked dumplings are served hot, and the green of fennel is revealed under the light dough, the color is beautiful, the taste is not bad, and the food is unforgettable.
Fennel is a taste, regardless of whether it is stir-fried, stir-fried, fried, and soup-making, all of which are unexpectedly good. Once, halfway through the meal, the second brother went to the kitchen to bring a bowl of fennel shredded meat soup. Lift the lid, wow, the heat is bubbling up three feet, and the room is full of strange smells. We each took a small bowl and let it cool a little and then took a sip — well, the shredded meat melted into the fennel, crispy and delicious, fennel, still a good color of verdant turquoise, but fragrant just right and not pureed. Everyone drank straight and sniffed, and the second brother was willful and drank three bowls in a row. That soup still has a lingering fragrance in my thoughts.
Eat fennel, eat it is its taste. Some people think that its taste is too heavy, in fact, just bubble in the water before eating. There are few fish for sale in his hometown in April, and once, the second brother suddenly planned to buy a fish to eat, it is said that he ran two streets, and did not see any fresh fish on the market. Fennel is also known to be very well matched with fish and seafood, and it can remove its fishy smell without hiding its original taste. If fennel is cooked with fish, it must have a good flavor.
The leaves of cumin are thin and slender, and it is very elegant to look at. Su Song of the Song Dynasty said that the northern people called fennel, and the sound was similar to Huaixiang. Tasting the word "Huaixiang", it seems that a quiet and silent ancient woman appeared in front of her.
My mother said that in the past, we had planted cumin in the family, but at that time, we were still children who did not like to eat it, and we hated that it tasted "bad". I didn't expect to return to my hometown now, but I quickly fell into the countryside and followed the customs.
When I was a child, I didn't like to eat it, but when I grew up, I liked the same vegetable - coriander, and its scientific name is also very literary: 荽荽.
My son is thirteen years old and he used to hate eating eggplant. Every time you fry this dish, you can grind your lips to persuade him to try it, and he will not take a bite. Once I made his favorite braised pork, and I cut two eggplants and threw them into the stew, but I didn't expect that this child loved to eat it too much. He has since announced that I have changed to eggplant instead! It seems that eggplant and meat oil are very compatible.
At present, the vegetables that this teenager does not like to eat include loofah, bitter melon, and gourd melon. He had never seen or eaten cumin, and I reckoned that if he were given a plate of braised fennel stew now, he wouldn't be able to eat it. I don't think it's necessary to force any of this.
People's tastes tend to change with age.
- That's probably a good thing.
The earthly April tung flowers are exhausted
I have drunk a lot of flower tea, including roses, peonies, calendula, chrysanthemums, jasmine and other six or seven kinds.
The taste of flower tea has its own beauty, and it is not praised for its advantages and disadvantages. Occasionally, for fun, I would chew a flower that had been soaked at the bottom of the cup after tea, but of course the taste was not very good. In addition to "eating" flowers in this way, the real flowers are eaten as rice, and it is the first time that the tung flowers that have been eaten at the second brother's house are the first time.
One day we came back from the street, and it just so happened that the second brother had a good meal there. As soon as I entered the courtyard, I met my second sister-in-law coming out of the kitchen and joyfully announcing: "Eat the same rare thing today." When the second sister-in-law's voice fell, her mother said happily: Smelling, it is like tung flower rice.
Sure enough, it was kirito rice. It was steamed with noodles, potted, and mixed with garlic paste, green onions, salt and chili oil. Take a bite, the fragrance is soft, tender and smooth, and you can even feel the fragrance of the petals swirling in your mouth.
Since she was a child, her mother loved to eat kiritake rice, and this meal was an unexpected joy for her.
I still eat rice made of flowers for the first time. I had eaten peony cakes at my uncle's house in Luoyang before, but in that exquisite little cake, in addition to the fragrance of peony flowers, there was no trace of flowers at all. Tonghua rice is not the case, using it to cook soup, you can keep the most complete appearance of all flowers, so when you eat it, it is like picking up a flower and eating it, which is quite a wonderful feeling.
The tung flower refers mainly to the paulownia flower, and there is another kind of sycamore, also known as the green tung, whose flowers are not edible. I remember once we went to my second aunt's house, and on the speeding bus, I saw a few tall trees full of flowers passing outside the window, and the purple and white flowers were clustered like snow, which was unforgettable. I was pleasantly surprised to ask my mother what kind of tree it was, and she told me it was paulownia.
In the hometown, paulownia is as common as the poplar trees in Xinjiang. The tree is said to be extremely adaptable and easy to reproduce, whether it is in barren wilderness or fertile hilly plains. In the era of material scarcity, every spring, farmers had to pick its flowers to make various delicacies.
When the tung blossoms bloom, the branches do not even have a young leaf, the flowers bloom, but the taste is timeless and light. Probably because this "wild game" is rare in the city, once the second brother bought a lot at a time. My second sister-in-law and I sat in the courtyard for a long time, but is the process of picking flowers one by one not a pleasure? After picking the tung flowers, I smelled my own hands, needless to say, it was fragrant!
The tung flowers used for consumption should naturally be delicate, and the buds are best if they are half-open. After washing the clean tung flowers, control the dry water, pour in the clear oil and flour in turn and stir evenly, put the steamer basket and spread the cage cloth on the boiling water, and pour in the mixed tung flowers and steam for a quarter of an hour to cook.
In addition to this way of eating, kirisame can also be used to make soup, stir-fry, and flapjacks. I heard that there are also fried sesame seeds sprinkled with honey and eaten "sweetly". I've never liked sweets, and I thought, how do you eat it? But I also think that the person who invented this way of eating has a lot of ideas. People like and dislike, can not be forced.
The white of the tung flower is blue and white, the purple is lilac, and the two colors are blended with each other, although they are not brilliant, they are the old colors of a tree. If the tung flowers bloom into a forest, there is a sense of cloud steaming in the distance.
It is difficult to see tung trees in small towns. Once I got lost in the drizzle and walked around in a few alleys close to my place, never finding my way home. I was looking for anxiety, I suddenly smelled a faint aroma, and when I looked up, I saw a few tung flowers sticking out of the wall of whose house, opening peacefully, and suddenly there was inexplicable comfort. I slowly walked over and picked up a tung flower that fell on the ground, it was still very fresh, just a little mud, but the simple qingfen had been in people's hearts.
On that day, I looked up under the wall for half a day, and I wanted to knock on the door of the family's courtyard to ask for a tung flower to go back, but finally there was none. Li Yu said that the advantage of the tree is that it is "not happy to see the rain and dew, and it is not alarmed to see the frost and snow", so it can be "very independent". I believe it!
It is reported that a certain county in Anhui has a fish that feeds on tung flowers - tung flower fish. Because of the many tung trees on the banks of the river where it grows, whenever the spring and summer turn, the tung flowers on both sides of the river bloom colorfully and float into the water, and the tung flower fish will compete to eat them. Perhaps because of the abundance of tung flowers, the flesh of this fish is tender and soft, and the quality is superb, so it has become a rare and rare species.
Because this fish only eats tung flowers for a living, I remembered a very nice word "Han Ying Tsui Hua", which seems to be very appropriate. Unfortunately, this kind of fish is difficult to eat, otherwise I would not hesitate to praise and attract the saliva of many people.
When we left, spring was nearly over, and summer was still hesitating. Sitting on the plane on the way back, looking out the porthole in the quiet sky, for a moment I remembered a lot of things.
6
I remember that on the day of the Qingming Festival, we drove a long way to the tomb of our grandparents. On the edge of the green wheat field, the children of the second and fourth uncles and their children were already waiting. The second and fourth uncles died early, and many of their children and descendants I have never even seen. But at the grave of our dearest elders, the shared grief seems to bring us much closer.
On the way back, it was raining heavily, and I saw a tree of tung flowers on the side of the road, washed clean and fresh by the rain, but it also fell all over the ground, and there was a feeling of wind and rain drifting for a while.
Liu Yong has the sentence "Tear down the tung flowers, at first remove the rain, wash the Qingming", and a "demolition" character writes the wind of the tung flowers. Remembering the drizzle of that day and the tung flowers of that day, a faint sadness floated in my heart.
After returning, I turned to the book once, saw a text with the sentence "The guest does not know the end of spring, and the mountains are full of wind and rain and flowers", and I thought to myself, what this verse wants to express is probably the same state of mind as at that time.
——Published in the first issue of West, 2019
Source: Karamay Literature