Qingyun struck | Mai Xiang Chang'an

There is no wheat in the suburbs, just like there is no season in the city, only high-rise buildings, only the transformation and color of gorgeous coats. After Xiao Man passed, I suddenly missed the wheat very much, missed the wheat fragrance that was far away, and wanted to quietly go out of the city in a morning that belonged only to me, to see the wheat, to give it a solemn ceremony, to pray for the continuous fragrance of wheat in Chang'an, and the fragrance was long...

Good wishes can become reality. At eleven o'clock in the evening, a WeChat friend "What will I do tomorrow?" She immediately replied to me, "You arrange." "Like we've been waiting for me, so we both made it about five in the morning.

The sky is dawn, pure awake blue, half a round of bright moon hanging faintly in the western sky, the sun is still hidden, and the sun and moon in the heart have become full of joy.

Friends were on time, there were not many cars in the city, and we drove out of town with a full load of expectations. Climbing over the original hill and crossing Wangqu Town, when the sun just showed its smiling face, we arrived at the vast ShenheYuan, rolled down the window, the endless apricot-yellow wheat field quietly spread under the blue sky, the gentle wisps of white clouds swayed in the air, and the green village warmth was embedded in the wheat field, presumably it was almost cooking smoke.

"This is the Chang'an granary you're looking for, right?" My friend was very proud of the question-style introduction, and I was deeply drunk. Looking at her sideways, countless words of gratitude could not be spoken. The fullness before the endless harvest filled the atrium of the heart, and it gave birth to a burst of peace and steadfastness.

The car continued on, along a clean, winding cement road through wheat fields. At the mouth of the village, the early farmers gathered on the side of the road, the road surface has been paved with neat wheat straw, a thin layer, the wheels are slowly rolled over, the crisp sound is accompanied by the fierce dance of the wheat straw in front of our car, like a boat driving by, splashing waves!

The sparrows jumped on the wheatless pavement, not surprised or delighted, gladly, afraid to press it, and when they were slow and slow, they spread their wings in pairs at the front of the car, and went away with joy, as if they were leading us with a naughty joy.

At the intersection of the village, along the road, a word was covered with earthy yellow grains of wheat, I slowed down, greedily looking at the grains of fruit in front of me, afraid of crushing them, the dark face of the aunt who dried the wheat was full of harvested happiness, and she greeted her kindly: "Let's go, it doesn't matter." ”

The friend asked, "Township Party, why did Zhongjiang Zhaocun go?" ”

"Keep going." The respondent seemed to know that we should know the place as well as she did. I said, don't ask, let's just keep going.

Descending the slope and entering the village, we saw the stone stele of "Zhongjiang Zhao Village". Turn left, Uehara, or Kamigata! I actually liked it here, just like the Shaoling Plain, the Cannon Plain, and all the wheat fields in the place where the wheat waves were rolling.

Out of the bridge hole, as sacred as out of a castle. I saw zhongnan Mountain, I saw the Great Qinling Mountains, I saw the vast wheat fields at the foot of the Qinling Mountains, the sun was already hanging high, the brilliant light stained the wheat fields, a golden scene of wheat ripening, stopped, walked into the fields, and became the watchmen in the wheat fields, even if it was an hour.

There is a guardian of the wheat field, and we see a thin figure in the distance, wearing a white hat, walking in the field, praying for the harvest in various postures, stroking the harvest, waiting for the harvest, ready to issue a happy order to move the sickle.

When the three of us talked, he was hearty and blunt: he also liked photography and literature, and the wheat in their village could be opened in two days, and when the time came, he would call us and welcome us to collect the wind. My friend wrote down his phone number, and I was happy in my heart: Shen Heyuan is really not ordinary!

When I returned, I wandered in the endless wheat field, like a boat in the sea, and I actually walked and walked, and I got lost and couldn't find the way home! Friends want to open the navigation, I said, forget it, let's not come once, don't ask things, just look at the harvest.

Yes, I really wish to be lost in this wheat field forever, not to abandon, to be the watchman and guardian in the wheat field under the south mountain.

--Sima Yunni

Zhang Ni, formerly known as Sima Yunni, a native of Sima Village, Chang'an Dazhao, is currently serving in the Political Research Office of the Chang'an District Cpc Committee, a director of the Xi'an Photographers Association, a member of the Xi'an Writers Association, a vice president and secretary general of the Shaanxi Qin Film Society, a secretary general of the Chang'an District Photography Association, a vice president of the Shaoling Cultural Research Association, a member of the 11th, 12th and 13th CPPCC committees of Chang'an District, and a member of the CppcC Chang'an District CPPCC.