The sunshine walked through my village with a smile

Hidden deep in the mountains, my village lies lazily, with the sun smiling.

One day in late spring, I once again set foot on the land of my hometown, the motherland that I have always dreamed of. The eyes are full of fresh greenery. The tender freshness makes people feel love at the sight of it. The plum blossoms are blooming enthusiastically, and the fresh green becomes a huge background, and the snow-white plum blossoms look even more important among them. Pure white, the fragrance of plum blossoms in the breeze made me tipsy all of a sudden.

I was lured back by the wild vegetables in my hometown. Every year in March of Yangchun, both sides of Nanxin Street in the county are full of fresh and delicious wild vegetables. Those bright green wild vegetables all come from Guanshan. It seems like a messenger sent from my hometown, calling me to return to my hometown and Guanshan, so As soon as I see those wild vegetables that are like relatives, I can't help but rush to my hometown.

The mountain roads in my hometown have not been trampled by pedestrians and vehicles for a long time, and have been occupied by thorns. In some places, the thorns have been connected together, and I have to bend my waist to get through. Walking alone on the tree-lined road in my hometown, the mountains and streams are murmuring and the birds are singing in harmony, seeming to welcome the return of the wanderer. My hometown lies quietly in the spring sun, with a lazy and comfortable look. The sun is smiling brightly, smiling at the laziness of my hometown, and smiling at my greedy greed that I can't see enough when I look around.

The wild vegetables in my hometown have saved my life. My bones are steeped in the pure elements of wild vegetables. As far back as I can remember, wild vegetables have been my most vivid memory. Spring is beautiful, everything alive is full of vitality, showing a colorful world. But for hungry people, spring is the most difficult time to endure. Fortunately, the vast Guanshan Mountains breed a wide variety of wild vegetables. These woody or herbaceous wild vegetables have become our life-saving vegetables. There are hundreds of them. Or thousands of mountain people rely on them to survive the spring famine and survive until the summer grain harvest. The earliest edible wild vegetables are endive and five-clawed vegetables. The former is a herbaceous vegetable and the latter is a woody wild vegetable. As soon as the chicory emerges from the soil, people are busy plucking it back. The dark green leaves with tender white roots are blanched in a pot of boiling water, rinsed in cold water, and sprinkled with salt. Delicious old bowl. "Thumping around", we were stunned for a while, and our flat belly immediately swelled up, and the dull expression was gone. We shouted, "Eat full and drink bloated, and the rich man's baby" It’s the same!” The group went to the mountain valley again to dig out the chicory. The five-clawed tree is covered with fine thorns, which are as sharp as wheat awns. However, in order to pick the pure and tender five-clawed vegetables, you simply can’t take into account that your hands are covered with fine thorns. Only when you calm down can you pick them. I feel itchy and uncomfortable everywhere on my hands. But when my mouth was filled with the slightly medicinal, fragrant and crispy five-legged vegetables, those itchy and uncomfortable feelings had long been forgotten in the country of Guawa.

When the five-pawed vegetables can no longer be eaten, other wild vegetables come out as if they are going to the market. The most popular ones are bracken and bracken, which are both herbaceous and woody. The former looks like a clenched fist and tastes fresh, while the latter is shaped like a bullet, bright red in color and attractive. Bracken is relatively easy to pick. They mostly grow in barren mountains and wild depressions, so any old friend can pick it. It is much more troublesome to pick the thorns. The tree is tall and covered with sharp thorns. Once it is stabbed, blood will flow out in the least, and the skin and flesh will be torn in severe cases. However, for the sake of a satisfying meal, and more importantly, to fill the belly, they would not hesitate to bleed and flesh to death, but only strong young people were required to stab the head. Bracken is not only delicious when eaten fresh, but can also be dried into dried vegetables. In the cold winter, it is fried with bacon and has a unique flavor. The head of the spinach was crispy and tender. I overate it more than once. My stomach was bloated and I farted loudly one after another, which made my brothers and sisters laugh at me. But at the next meal, I am still a glutton and it is hard to change my nature as a foodie. .

When eating wild vegetables at that time, no matter what kind it was, the best ingredient was a pinch of salt and nothing else. Thinking about it now, it is the best delicacy in the world.

In April and May during the spring famine, wild vegetables were the absolute protagonist in the two meals a day for every household in the mountains. For several days, we could not even smell the smell of noodles, and the bellies of adults and children were filled with wild vegetables. , even so, few people were eaten up by wild vegetables. Although the children were thin and lonely, they were energetic and energetic, and they did not look sluggish at all.

Since the implementation of the mountainous area relocation project five years ago, most of my folks have moved to new rural areas outside the mountains. The remaining three or two families only go to the mountains in the beginning of spring and in late autumn. When winter comes out of the mountains, there are no real residents of the walking farmers who cultivated villas. Only the old houses are left to watch the mountains and rivers of their hometown and the blue sky and white clouds. Many outsiders don’t understand: Since everyone has left, why aren’t the houses demolished? Only we ourselves know this reason. Although people have gone out of the mountains, it is just a change of living environment. The souls of mountain people will always be in the mountains! Not only our wanderers who make a living outside have to go back to their hometown every now and then, but also the folks who have moved outside the mountains have to come back every month and a half to open the doors of their old houses and let the air out. They lit firewood, simmered the tea pots, picked up mountain spring water, and happily drank pots of tea for most of the day, and then turned back three times to leave their homeland shrouded in the sunset.

I went into the wool forest at the east end of the village very familiarly, thinking about hunting some wild vegetables such as thorn toon or wild toon, so that I could take them back to let my wife and children taste the taste of my hometown. But I have been in the forest for a long time, but I didn't see a single thorn head. The tops of the trees I saw were all bare. People who arrived early must have picked off the thorn heads! I haven't been in the woods for a long time, and my movements have become much clumsy. Those thorns and vines are pulling me here and there. They are like extremely enthusiastic relatives, pulling me so that I can't move forward. I am at a loss and can't move forward or backward freely. . After a lot of effort, I finally got away from the thorns and vines. After some searching, I finally found a patch of thorns. I ran towards the mace-like thorn trees with great joy and carefully picked them. , despite this, my right wrist was still scratched by sharp thorns, and the bloodshot eyes were visible, but this did not affect my joy at all. I gradually became more skilled in the picking movements, and the deflated bag gradually bulged.

I clearly remember that in this forest called Dashu Shiwa, eight or nine of our friends were hunting thornheads and wild toon trees. The boys of thirteen or fourteen were ignorant and impetuous. When they were tired and took a break, they made fun of each other. The topic started with a woman from a neighboring village called Ugly Woman. She was about the same age as us. She had a wide mouth, a high nose, and sunken eyes. She had brown hair. From time to time, she would droop two streams of clear nasal mucus, which would reach the corner of her mouth. There was a "hissing" sound, and the two streams of snot returned to her hometown. After a while, it flowed to her mouth again, and there was another "hissing" sound. The cycle continued, and her Yamato mother gave her a name worthy of her name. . We tease each other about who the ugly girl is, and whoever has the loudest voice, tenacity, and lasts the longest is the winner. The one with shortness of breath and weak voice is naturally the loser, that is, the man with the ugly girl. The partners of ugly women and men feel ashamed for a long time and become the object of ridicule by their partners. Another thin brother and I had been the man of an ugly woman many times, so that when we passed by the village where the ugly woman lived, we were as frightened as thieves. We didn’t even dare to look at the door of another house, and even when we heard the word “ugly” The word "woman" will make your face suddenly turn red, as if you really married an ugly woman.

In the blink of an eye, this has already happened more than thirty years ago. The ugly woman has married away in Beijing, and my thin little boy has also left this world for more than three years. Today, with the bright spring sun, I am the only one recalling the poverty and beauty of the past.

At noon, the sun was extremely warm. I emerged from the forest with sweat on my face and hurried to the spring water that I had drank for more than thirty years. First, I leaned over and drank for a while, which relieved my thirst and made my whole body feel much refreshed. Then I picked up a few handfuls of water to wash away the dust and sweat stains on my face. After I was full and washed, I stood on my homeland and looked around at my past. 's home.

The old houses, the larch trees, poplar trees, red birch trees, and even the lonely farmland in the wheat field all hide amiable and respectable faces, and each of them has vivid records. Looking at their stories, my thoughts wandered, and looking at them, my eyes filled with tears.

In the bright spring sun, my village is silent, with only the breeze moving and the chirping of birds. I stand like a lonely aspen tree, with the sun smiling above my head. ......