How to write the title "Hometown"

On the land of my hometown, I was sleeping in a thatched cottage on Yuemiao Street, sleeping very sweetly in Wangyuexuan. Standing next to the Yue Temple in Mount Yihua, I felt like I was draped in the arms of a loving mother. The bright moon in my hometown overnight also made my soul feel extremely refreshed.

The early morning sun makes Huashan's freehand scenery appear long and lasting, contained in the Xuan window. This is an ink painting that has been intact for tens of thousands of years. Is that tall and straight cactus still showing signs of wanting to speak? A white apricot flower outside the window is also blooming brilliantly in the morning breeze. I know that the land in my hometown is peaceful and peaceful, and it is already a brilliant spring. It’s time for me to visit this long-lost land. I should be close to the spring in my hometown, looking for the past years when my childishness was still alive, and the fathers and villagers I can’t forget. When I woke up, the sound of birds outside the window still called me to return. The mood of searching for my hometown was blocked by the war. TV tells us that today is the second day of the Iraq War. Voices to resolve disputes through peaceful means do not count. The United States and Britain will still fight, and war is inevitable. An era when war is inevitable is an era where heroes are created. What kind of heroes are George W. Bush and Saddam Hussein expected to become? How much blood should be spent in exchange for such a hero?

I think of the quiet moonlight last night. It may be a good thing to trap the Americans in the quagmire of the Iraq War. Why don't we take the opportunity to liberate Taiwan? What does the United States want from the war? Is it the same as the war in Afghanistan? The purpose of the American war is by no means what they say in words, which is to eliminate Iraq's large number of weapons of destruction.

However, the value concept of the hometown is still "Jingwu", which means "stopping the war". Whoever can stop the war with wisdom and martial spirit may be crowned a hero!

The popular saying here is: "Guo Ziyi rode alone to see Huihe - outwit him." In the Tang Dynasty, Uihe rebelled and troops came to the city. Lao Guo did not lead any soldiers, so he rode into the camp alone and retreated from Huihe. With thousands of troops and horses, Guo Ziyi is a hero admired by the people in this hot land. I came thinking about the beauty and magic of this land. Is this the land that gave birth to Tang poetry and Song lyrics? It is also a hot land that gave birth to novels of the Ming and Qing Dynasties. The stone in Dream of Red Mansions is the one left by Nuwa who made stones to mend the sky, and it is here; the starting point and end point of Journey to the West are both Chang'an at the bend of the Yellow River, and it is here; the stone between Cao Cao and Ma Chao in The Romance of the Three Kingdoms is The locust tree that blocked Ma Chao's spear is still there and grows here; the Shaohua Mountain where the flower monk Lu Zhishen roared in the forest, the old city of Weinan where the fist shook Guanxi, and the Shijiazhuang where Jiu Wenlong Shi Jin grew up are all here.

This is a land where ancient myths are deposited. Nuwa patching up the sky and Kuafu are stories played out in this hot land every day.

It’s time for me to go to the Yellow River wetland, looking for the ethereal wind mausoleum. Is Nuwa’s mausoleum still suspended above the Yellow River, and is it still accepting the annual Qingming Festival sacrifices? It's almost Qingming Festival. The peach blossoms of Qingming Festival have already bloomed, and plum blossoms have also bloomed. The Qingming Festival of red peach and white plums is the most beautiful moment that spring brings to the earth. Is this beauty a reward for Nuwa, because she created human beings here, made up for the sky, and gave us a rich and peaceful world. This should be the source of all beauty and a blessed place for all living creatures. I recalled the folk custom of burning paper during the Qingming Festival. People who burn paper do so in order to repay their ancestors, whose ancestors are Nuwa, who is the miraculous creator. Her mausoleum is called Fengling, suspended in mid-air. There was an ancient ferry called Fenglingdu. Fenglingdu now has a bridge called Fenglingdu Bridge, which is the choke point for the Central Plains to enter the customs. This is the most obvious symbol of Fengling.

Turn paper into gray butterflies, become the currency of the underworld, and hand it over to the passing wind. During the Qingming Festival, we can talk to our predecessors and tell our thoughts. All of this, Nuwa Of course you can enjoy it. Nuwa, just like this, enjoying the fragrance of the world in the wind. During the annual Tomb Sweeping Festival, no matter what form people use to pay homage, the custom of burning paper remains unchanged. In a simple and plain form, the emotion of longing is given to the wind. This wind penetrates history, so we inherit the traditions of our ancestors. The pulse incense has been passed down from generation to generation to this day.

I rode my bicycle out of Yuemiao Street and headed north to the river beach where I was born and raised. Stepping on the soil of your hometown, you can feel the warmth of this land. The peaches are red and the plums are white, and the willows are golden. This place is still the same brilliant scene as it was many years ago. Leaving Huayin City, it’s all downhill, the biggest one being Maojiapo.

The Mao family still has no courtyard wall. The houses are scattered here and there. The arborvitae and peach blossoms in front and back of the house are hung with dark green and pink. The white dog runs freely in the clean courtyard. The household items are scattered everywhere. The motorcycle is brand new. To the west of the courtyard is a pond. There must be fish in the water. It should be a farm fish pond. This is a wealthy farmhouse. I like the wealth and tranquility here. I know that when we get off Maojiapo, we have entered a real beach. Farmers with hoes, sisters-in-law planting trees, and migrant workers building new roads are still the main content of this land. Following the steps, I arrived at the place where I grew up. After decades of uninhabited wind and rain, the former village seemed to have evaporated. A dam lay in front of me, and the faint Guojia City could only be searched in my childish heart. .

To the north is the place where the Yellow River, Wei River and Luo River meet; to the south is the majestic Huashan Mountain for eternity; the place where I stand is facing the Xiyue Temple ten miles south. Yes, this is where I was born and raised. My hometown.

Where is the stone archway in my hometown, where are the buildings, and are the two stone lions in front of the Laoye Temple still there? They are too majestic in my impression. This stone lion was a familiar companion of my childhood. I would often play with the round stone ball in its mouth on the way to or from school. When I fiddled with it, it would make a whining sound and narrate it to a child. With the unforgettable language, we didn't speak, but we communicated with each other's thoughts in our hearts.

However, today there is only one statue left, and it lies pitifully and alone on the waist of the dam beam, serving as a cup of loess for the dam. People say that loess can bury the romantic, but how come the loess on this dam did not completely bury it? Of course I feel sad, because of the lost years. There are many broken rubbles in the wheat field. Whose house are those relics? I picked up a piece and identified it. Was it the material that my father or grandpa had touched many times with their hands?

The wind on the dam is very strong, which is unique to the Yellow River. The hometown decades ago is vividly displayed in front of us.

The two alleys running east and west belong to Guojiacheng, one of the seven cities in Shangcun, also called Beichengzi. In Beixiang, Beichengzi, which number from the west is my hometown? Next to the vicissitudes of the door, there are two door piers. With a creak, the door opens, and footsteps can be heard in the hall. Opposite the living room is the cattle pen. The old scalper is mooing to call his master to return, and his lightbulb-like eyes are staring at me affectionately - entering from the cattle pen is the patio, which is actually a very spacious courtyard with a pomegranate tree. It is located in the northwest corner of the courtyard with lush greenery. To the east of the courtyard are the two-entry buildings. My grandma and I live in the front room, and my parents and younger brother live in the upper room. To the north is the kitchen, with a small kiln dedicated to the Stove Lord. The couplets on both sides vaguely read: God says good things, and the lower world sends auspicious words. Five people, one cow, and the door god Kitchen God form a simple farmhouse.

The back door is ajar, and you can step into the backyard from the kitchen. The back wall completely protects the backyard, with two acacia trees growing vigorously. I remember that during the Qingming Festival that year, my father tied the swing to the tree in the west, and the backyard became a happy place for me and my friends.

After playing on the swing, we also played some games at home. Cundi from the west end and Rudie from the south lane unexpectedly forgot to go home and had to be called by an adult before they went home. A gust of wind came, and my childhood swing disappeared. I was standing in the modern spring breeze. At the east end of a new village, my childhood friend Dunchang finally recognized me and invited me to their home. The new immigrant village is called Beishe Nanzhai, located at the west end of the original village. Judging from the food on the table, our folks are already rich. What they just lack is culture. Fortunately, they have already noticed that their children should study. There are several children in Dunchang who are good at studying. I stopped by my aunt's house again. My eighty-seven-year-old aunt looked me up and down and said that I had carried all the cooperatives for her. She happily complained that I bought her too many things.

On the fire bed set up by Sister Xiurong, my aunt asked me to sit closer to him. She was going to tell me an ancient scripture: "If the country is upright and the heavens are happy, the people will be at peace. A virtuous wife will have few troubles, and a son will be filial to his father and have a broad heart." "There are four walls of wine, sex and wealth, and everyone hides inside. If you can get out, you will live a long life even if you are not a god."

Whose poem is she reading? I don't know. I only know her. Deep feelings for me. She also read aloud "The Ballad of the Ten Prime Ministers", which is a ballad about my ten old uncles, and also talked about the values ????of "a good snake, two rats and three ox heads".

Aunt, she is really a living folk dictionary. The loss you feel from the vicissitudes of life will be made up for by wisdom in front of her. The wind was beating drums on the window, and it was the spring breeze that inquired about the returning wanderers. My eyes were bright, as if I could see the graceful shadow of a beautiful woman in the wind, and my dream was completely baptized in the land of the ancient hometown.