I have always felt that the sky in my hometown, the small village under the cover of kitchen smoke in my hometown, is very old and shabby, but I have worked hard all day. The family sat at the small table in their leisure yard, rested on the warm kang, and chatted with the neighbors at the gate ... It always made the hometown people feel that life was infinitely happy and satisfied.
The smoke in my hometown is the same as that in my hometown. In the morning, at noon and at night, there will be a faint aroma of plant ash, which is stronger than the original atmosphere, rising slowly, and then drifting into the clear or dusk sky. Sometimes, the kitchen smoke is torn into wisps by the breeze, dancing slightly, lazily embracing the sky, kissing the white clouds intimately and dreaming sweet dreams together.
I often travel in the country. When I see the smoke from the chimney of the house in that small village, I will think of my hometown in the twilight and the light blue smoke over my hometown village. My heart seems to have a pair of gentle jade hands, plucking the strings of homesickness. Emotionally, I feel the faint and warm aroma of plant ash, and the steaming kitchen seems to be just around the corner.
I remember that when I was in middle school, my mother often told me, "Dad loves home. I want to cry if I can't see the big chimney at home." My mother's words have no philosophy, but they contain a kind of intimate warmth. At that time, I naturally knew the meaning of my mother's words, that is, my father, who worked in other places, was entangled with the smoke in his hometown from beginning to end. Because there is a complex in the kitchen smoke that my father can't give up-that is home. Ah, the big chimney throws a long line that can tie my father's heart, that is, kitchen smoke. Today, like my father, I look up at the smoke in my hometown and miss my hometown. Although my hometown and home are poor and humble, the smoke from the kitchen is warm, with warm affection, engraved in my father's and my soul, which always inspires my two generations to deeply love home, regardless of it, but rush to the land of my hometown.
There are many places in my hometown, so most people get up early and smoke early. I clearly remember that it was not completely bright. The air still smells of damp yards and animal droppings. Behind the fog, the rooster in the village crows lazily, the dog sleeps on the steps under the house, and the old hen sleeps on the branches beside the house. It was early in the morning, in the small village of my hometown, plumes of light smoke were emitted from the chimneys of every household. When there is smoke in the kitchen, the fog is particularly heavy in the morning. From a distance, villages, trees, foggy Yuan Ye, crops and Woods are covered with a layer of white cloth, which is not true. Birds hide in unnoticed branches and sing in the smoke.
Sometimes, the smoke on the roof of the villagers does not smoke at the same time, so some lazy couples simply skip this breakfast and let the chimney rest until noon.
From the aesthetic point of view, the morning smoke in my hometown is the most beautiful, with a faint blue smoke. The houses and green trees in small villages are filled with this smell, which is easy to remind people of the mist fluttering in the Woods in Shan Ye in the morning. When the morning breeze blows, the village will take off its gauze-like pajamas, revealing the freshness and beauty of the village when it first wakes up. At this time, fluttering chickens, stumbling cows, scampering pigs, scampering children, girls by the well, old people picking up dung and smoke from the kitchen roof are full of vitality and intoxicating eyes. Especially after the cock flies to the bamboo fence with fancy wings and crows proudly, he often entangles his favorite hens and flirts with them, which enhances the early morning atmosphere in his hometown. This morning is refreshing and extremely happy.
After breakfast, except those who work in the fields, adults, villains in the village, men and women at home, plus a few good dogs, will gather in one place to chat in twos and threes. All the old people's faces are covered with wrinkles, and the one with the deepest wrinkles has a kind face and tells a story about the village to the younger generation next to him from time to time. The sun at this time is lazy but happy.
At dusk, smoke from the kitchen rises from roofs at different heights. Under the irradiation of the sunset glow, the small village that permeates the kitchen smoke rises in a simple and simple way, becoming more and more simple, quiet and beautiful. Plumes of kitchen smoke render the evening scenery, and people in the fields are called by the kitchen smoke to rush back along the village road with hoes on their backs. Suddenly, the Cleisthenes sound of cattle, the rumble of carts, the grinding sound of water pulleys, the biting sound of dogs, the crowing sound of chickens, and people's shouts will enrich the dusk of the village under the smog.
Soon, the night came from the west at a visible speed like a curtain. The smoke from the kitchen in the small village is slowly melting into the night and being assimilated by the boundless night. Next, people who had eaten dinner gathered in front of the ancient stage in the village with the fun of cooking smoke. The ancient stage is old and obsolete, and the internal and external walls are seriously peeling off, but the "mountain" building at the top of the stage is still magnificent. The ancient stage is a place that brings infinite happiness to the villagers. After smoking, all the villagers gather here to watch the drama and listen to Taoist feelings. Usually, when there is no drama or film to watch, a group of young scholars in the village will gather around an old man and listen to him tell the past. The old man's eyes are half open and half closed, and he is very happy. It is not only Pangu who started the world, but also Pangu's grandfather Bian Gu. No matter how old people talk nonsense, future generations believe it. It must have been in ancient times, when people gathered under the ancient stage to play poker. The loser loses nothing, so stick your nose in front of the winner and let him scratch three times. When people are busy, there are often some women who don't know the depth to watch. At this time, naughty men will inevitably say a few dirty words to make everyone laugh. Even a twist on the face or ass of the onlookers is not out of line.
This is a human world!
Cooking smoke in my hometown contains too much content.
I remember, in my twilight years, I played hide-and-seek with my friends, or played tricks with sticks and danced on the smoky land. From the afternoon until dusk, the laughter and laughter with friends will always overflow in the village where the smoke is curling, which will always attract adults to stop and watch from a distance, and applause will come from time to time.
I don't know what the concept of cooking smoke in my hometown is in other people's minds, but for me, it is connected with the blood of my life. After leaving my hometown for many years, I still stubbornly miss the smoke from my hometown and feel that the complex in my heart is irreplaceable by other beautiful things.
Living in the ancient city, I measured the distance between the ancient city and my hometown for many days with my heart, but no matter how hard I measured it, I wanted to close the distance between my heart and the ancient city. But for me, the ancient city will always be a strange ancient city in my heart. Not unlovable. I just feel that living in an ancient city without cooking smoke makes me feel empty, helpless and lonely.
With the growth of age, homesickness gradually enriched into wisps of smoke in the wilderness, lingering in homesickness for a long time. I used to think that cooking smoke was the voice of a mother calling her son home. That voice, so kind, natural and familiar, always gives people a kind of sweetness after going home and comfort when they are tired. Usually, when I see smoke rising, my eyes will be filled with tears. I really want to smell the smoke in my hometown again, and I really want to smell the steaming smell next to the stove again …
Nowadays, in my hometown, it is difficult to see the smoke from the old village, because there are fewer and fewer stoves and chimneys in my hometown, and the occasional wisp of smoke seems to tell me that this will be the last scenery in my hometown. In the past, dozens or even hundreds of chimneys floated out of the smoke and remained in the depths of memory forever.
The river in my hometown.
From the map, my hometown is in the northwest of Chongqing. This is a small town in Jiang Fang, surrounded by mountains and rivers. Because it is just an ordinary town, the general traffic atlas is not marked. But Fujiang, a tributary of Jialing River, is easy to find in the west. There is also a tributary hundreds of kilometers long on the west side of Fujiang River, which may not be called Qiongjiang River. Qionger River and Fujiang River meet somewhere on the west side of the lower reaches of Jialing River. This place is very convenient for my hometown, Anju Town. And these two rivers meet in front of my window and flow through my downstairs day and night. Because I can't go back all the year round, I occasionally open the atlas and have a look. This intersection is my home. When I close my eyes, my hometown really seems to emerge in front of me.
People like to live by water. There is a big town at the intersection of two rivers. Jialing River and Yangtze River meet in Chongqing, and Fujiang River and Jialing River meet in Hechuan. The intersection of Fujiang River and Qiongjiang River should also become a famous address. In fact, it used to be the seat of the county government, and there was a "Anju County" here in the Qing Dynasty. As for the place name, why is it named "Anju"? There is a feeling that the intersection of the two rivers is suitable for human habitation, and this place can live and work in peace and contentment for a long time, so many immigrants fill Huguang in Sichuan. The rise of this town probably began in the Ming and Qing Dynasties. The Ming and Qing architecture of the whole street, the century-old incense of the "Nine Palaces and Eighteen Temples", the city walls built on the mountain and the ruins of the gate tower, and the still busy water traffic all witnessed the prosperous history of the town in the past.
The town is built on the water, and it rises and falls on the mountain, like a dragon and snake. Fujiang River comes, Qiongjiang River escapes sideways, and the wide river at the intersection of the two rivers faces the front of the mountain. Fujiang River is actually a famous river, which is the dividing line of ancient Bashu. Fujiang River Basin has always been one of the three sericulture bases in China. Although Qiongjiang River is not long, it flows through densely populated areas with rich runoff. Fujiang River and Qiongjiang River meet here, making the local area a famous land of fish and rice nearby, which has always belonged to the four ancient towns in Chongqing. Local shipping is also very famous, which used to be an important way for materials in and out of East Sichuan. Before the expressway is connected, the local people must take a boat down the Fujiang River and reach Chongqing via Hechuan. So it used to be an important dock for Jialing River shipping, and now there are more than 0/00 ships/kloc. In the past, boats were pulling fibers up and down, but now they are mostly "motorboats" (villagers say). This is a small armored boat painted by Wu Peng. When driving, the motor vibrates suddenly, emitting plumes of black smoke, often accompanied by three or two long whistles. There are many villages surrounded by bamboo forests along the two rivers, and people like to travel by this means of transportation. Every market day, ferries fly around on the river, and the sound of beating waves is endless.
On this day, thousands of villagers always come to the market from various docks and stations. After these villagers enter the city, they are often scattered in pubs or teahouses in the town after they are busy with business or business. If you go to a pub, make a meal for nothing and a bowl of tofu brain. People who go to the teahouse, with a cup of tea and a small dish of peanuts, can have a good chat with old friends who have only known each other for three days. As far as I can remember, tofu brains and covered bowls of tea are all over the street in that river, but the villagers in those small places are always busy, as if they were living the happiest, simplest and simplest life forever. And this kind of life, like a slowly flowing river, is as calm, always slow and quiet, as if forever.
I often stand at the window unconsciously every day. In the morning, the sun rises, and the opposite hillside and the river downstairs are red. At this time, the wharf by the river began to get busy. It is the farmers across the river who carry the vegetables and sell them early. At dusk, when the sun sets, many fishing boats roll out and cast nets against the setting sun in the river where the setting sun is scattered, or rush into the water with teams of cormorants. At this time, the river is often still and picturesque, and I often stare at the river in a daze at this moment.
Many times, the river in my hometown is always so blue, as if it is always close to the clear sky. The green hills and hills by the river are just right, and even dancing reflections can be seen on the river. As long as you stand a little higher, you can get a panoramic view of this landscape. At night, I often go to the roof alone to see the starry sky and the lights behind me. At this time, the river is always very quiet, except for some hazy moonlight and some moving fishing fires, and there is not even a sound. Every time I stand for a long time, I can't help feeling a little lonely.
The pier is just below my house, on several smooth boulders where the river enters the water. My mother often takes a large basin of clothes to wash. There is an elevated cable car bridge inclined upward by the wharf, and there are many crabs in the crevices of the stones in bridge opening. My children and I often pass by here, cross the riverbank under the city wall, and swim around the adults in the shallows downstream. Every flood season, my father often stands on the bridge, scooping up a bamboo pole and salvaging floating wealth in the face of the turbulent torrent. There are often many adults walking around the flood backwater near the bridge. At this time, I am usually afraid of the threat of adults and dare not go out. I only watch from the window. Floods usually fluctuate between ten meters and tens of meters, and even inundate half of the town within a year. Every time I see the flood coming, the waves surge aimlessly, and I feel spectacular surprise and a little worried at the same time. Therefore, I worry inexplicably, and my eyes are blurred and hurt when I look at it.
I often think of my father's restraint, which is a little violent and often makes me feel a little uneasy and embarrassed. So many times, I value my good neighbors and friends. I remember there is a white water supply tower by the Qiongjiang River. One spring and summer evening, I often go to study alone under the water tower by the river. That place is very quiet. There are many dense aquatic plants that can raise fish on the river bank, and there are often some sporadic rape flowers in them. Occasionally, I looked up and saw a middle-aged man fishing in a fish cage boat across the river. There is a beautiful girl one year older than me on that boat. She often goes boating and takes me to her place for a coke. Her father, the middle-aged man, always wears a straw hat and always has a smile on his round face. Sometimes he will accompany me for a while and find a small stool for me to sit next to and read to him. The girl in my memory had a long argument, and her bright eyes often made me blush. She used to go to the same school as me. After graduating from primary school, she went on a boat to help her father raise fish. She seems to have told me that she likes to watch me perform the flag-raising ceremony at school in my student uniform. I don't know why I especially liked to go there to study at that time, and I always hoped that she would pick me up by boat. Unfortunately, the girl later went to another country with her mother. The childhood in my memory seems like a dream, but I don't seem to be happy.
But there are also some times in the year that make me happy. This is the annual Dragon Boat Festival. At this time, you can often see more than a dozen dragon boats and many floats on the river. Not only men and women can really row dragon boats, but also people can swim ducks beside floats. This day may be the most lively festival in the local area. Villagers in all directions support the elderly and take care of the young, and there are often tens of thousands of people looking around at the same time along the two rivers. On that day, a big loudspeaker must have been installed on the roof of my house to play magnificent music such as "March of Athletes". And my window must be crowded with relatives who came from the village. Those who have experienced it personally can't feel the grand occasion of many people. On that day, my friends were always running around in the street excitedly. The old ladies who sell saccharin mixed with water in the gatehouse are always busy with smiles. On the rostrum of the conference that day, "Some are looking for you" has been played for free with a loudspeaker. But now you may never see such a lively scene again.
There is also a pier downstream of this wide river. There is a broken dike not far from the pier, which extends to the middle of the river, and there is an empty cobblestone dam below. The dam is as big as an airport, but it is often flooded, so it is still deserted. I remember that the primary school teacher organized the whole grade students to visit the river view, and the location was near here. When I went back that time, I quoted an ancient poem by Wang Anshi, "Half the river is rustling and half the river is red", to describe the river in the early hours of the morning, which was greatly appreciated by the Chinese teacher. Not only is it read as a model essay, but it is also posted on the wall behind the classroom. At that time, I had just transferred here from the countryside, and I was worried that I could not be equal to them. I don't want my classmates to look at me from now on. Girls will play with me. Now that I think about it, I really appreciate that fat female teacher.
On the empty dam, there are clusters of eight hairs, and occasionally a few wild ducks fly down in the shallows in front of the dam. In the past, we would catch a spanking (the scientific name is "Toona sinensis"), have a picnic together or fly a kite for fun. Broken dike is a good place for fishing and meditation, and occasionally a couple will play hand in hand. I have been here countless times, or wandering alone, or sitting here watching the sunset with another young girl. In fact, there are two such girls before and after, both with lovely faces. One of them likes to smile charmingly, and the other likes to open his clear eyes. Both of them like to hold their cheeks and listen to my stories, and then quietly accompany me in a daze. But they all left me. Many times without thinking, they disappeared, as if they had never appeared beside me. Sometimes I remember for a while, but I dare not guess where they are.
I don't know why I left town ten years ago. When I went back last year, I asked some classmates and friends, and many people never heard from me again. And before I came back, the house had been closed for a long time and no one lived there. My family moved to the county town seven years ago.
I remember when I left, a new strontium carbonate factory was built in the town. That is a Japanese-funded enterprise. Because most of the local light industries such as silk and sugar went bankrupt, it was invited by the government to invest. Actually, it's also a chemical plant. The smell from the huge chimney in that factory is very unpleasant, and the waste water and waste residue are poured into the river day and night, which not only has a great impact on the downstream fishery production, but also some special situations are gradually spreading around. The local people have complained and heard that it has also triggered group incidents. However, because the employment of some people has been solved, the local government should consider the long-term people's livelihood, and then it will go away. But as a result, people in the town tried their best to escape, rural migrant workers did not return for many years, and half of the aborigines in the town moved to the county seat.
After coming back this time, Japanese factories have moved to more remote provinces, and the beautiful scenery of the town has finally been restored. Strolling through the streets of the ancient town, I can't help but think of a dramatic story "Yu Han Ji" that happened here. I'm afraid the romantic and classical love of the young lady will never be staged here again. I have always suspected that the local literati may be doomed to stay away, and in the future, like most people in the town, they will travel far away to make a living and get married outside, like me.
However, my departure has nothing to do with the changes in my hometown. To put it mildly, it's because I'm going to Wan Li Road to study in thousands of books, and men are ambitious. However, I know I'm running away. After those painful failures, I really can't adapt to my hometown. But now, the longer I wander outside, the more I remember the benefits of my hometown.
I remember there is a mountain by the river called Bolun Mountain and a temple called Bolun Temple. It is said that this temple was built by Luban. It was burned down during the Cultural Revolution, but there are still many Buddha statues left. Among them, there is a giant Buddha, holding it with both hands and eyes closed. In the past, when there were temples, this giant Buddha was in the center of the hall. Every night, the moonlight shines on the Buddha statue through the window lattice on the temple gate. On a full moon night, the moonlight is as bright as holding a Buddha's arm. This is the famous "Pollan holds the moon". Because of this wonder, this giant Buddha is more effective than other places. So on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, the incense here is very strong. Especially on New Year's Eve, many people come to burn "purple stone incense". It is said that people who go out can keep safe and make a lot of money in the coming year, and local officials can also be promoted and made a fortune. On the eve of the 30th anniversary, thousands of people often come to pilgrimage at the same time. On the narrow road in front of the mountain, black luxury cars are like a long queue with no end in sight. In the candlelight shadow of the mountains and plains, people are crowded and firecrackers explode like stars, and the grand occasion is more unprecedented every year.
I used to climb this mountain. That night, my family called me back safely. But I don't know why, but I was trapped in the crowd all over the mountain. I am at a loss, shocked and really don't understand. Although I didn't burn "purple stone incense", I finally left. I'm not in the mood to pray for myself, although I'm far away. If you come back again, this town will become better. It's not that I don't like the poverty in my hometown, but that she has really changed today.
The river in my hometown is still flowing for so long and so far. Why do wanderers wander with you? Wandering in a foreign land! I know I have to go home again. My home is still by the river in my hometown. Even if I don't think about it, she will never be forgotten in my heart.
Regret in spring
The long-lost spring can't stand people's expectations and comes to us as scheduled, but today I seem to have a special feeling for spring.
Spring in Changchun is so simple, not as luxurious and splendid as spring in my hometown, so I have been cherishing the original goose yellow in the corner of street buildings for a long time in the city. A spring breeze, a rainy night, the early riser suddenly found that Miss Chun had come to her side. Look! Who made the yellow packaging for willow branches? Look! When did so many green elves stand on the street lawn? There is no winter jasmine, no cuckoo, only this willow and this grass, silently emitting the breath of spring, playing the melody of spring, and dressing up the courtyard thoroughfare of the northern spring city. I know very well that this goose yellow, this light green, is just the messenger of spring. When peaches, plums, apricots and plums are in full bloom, their beauty will be forgotten by people, but I have a special liking for it. I love the short time when spring buds again, because beauty lies not only in beauty, but also in purity and selflessness.
I said, it is the most beautiful to meet the cold in spring.
Spring in my hometown is more luxurious than here, but she comes later. My mother called and kissed my real name the other day. "Don't come back on May 1st, there's nothing to see here, it's cold! You work hard there, don't think about home ... ",hang up the phone, but tears are attached. Yes! I often tell my family that I love the spring in my hometown. My hometown is a mid-level mountain area, and the old house is surrounded by low slopes, facing south against a reservoir full of mountain springs. Spring in my hometown is not like here with only a few trees, grass and flowers. When the snow in winter has not dissipated, the purple mouse flowers have already bloomed on the sunny hillside in the cold spring breeze. Then, the willows in the valleys and fields turned yellow and spit out green leaves. Some willows still have golden flowers (Mao Mao dogs), and the intoxicating fragrance is floating in the wind. Wild vegetables have been drilled out of the ground. In a few days, the mountains and plains will become a sea of flowers. Birds are singing and dancing everywhere, larks, orioles and cuckoos are singing. Together with the shouts of busy farmers and the rumble of agricultural machinery, they are dedicated to people's fresh, noisy and energetic morning, as well as the golden morning with warm sunshine and fragrant flowers.
I prefer the moonlit night in spring in my hometown. The moonlit night is deep, and the villagers who have worked hard all day are asleep. There is still the rumble of agricultural machinery in the distance, but it is far from my home and can't break the silence at all. At this time, I can feel at ease and enjoy the moonlit night in my hometown in spring, bathing in moonlight and wandering among the flowers. Look! Pear blossoms and plum blossoms clothed the back hill with new silver clothes. Occasionally, there are birds flying by, or the cool breeze in Xu Lai, and the fallen flowers fall like snow. What is more attractive is that Shan Ye is filled with the fragrance of flowers, which is natural and elegant. In the clear moonlight, there is an illusory and quiet mist floating on the water. Isn't that the fairy who washed the yarn? The chorus of frogs came from the silver water, high and low, unpredictable. Many unknown aquatic animals or waterfowl are either unwilling to be lonely or jealous of the beauty of this chorus, and always sneak in a few words. Although it seems like a joke, it makes this monotonous frog sound so changeable, so full of vitality, so natural and harmonious. In this Yamashita, I often call my loyal old dog "Big Black" and sit quietly under the tree in the back of the mountain, flying imaginary white pigeons in the moonlight, listening to frogs, watching English autumn, counting cold stars, thinking about legends in the full moon and stories in the dark mountains. "Big Black" is very sensible. He squints his eyes and hangs his ears on my side, for fear of making some noise, which destroys the tranquility of this moonlit night, the pure beauty that can only be realized with his heart, and the good mood of his master.
I've been thinking, if I take this scene and carve it on a CD, how nice it would be to use her to comfort my wandering feelings in a foreign country! But when I returned to China last year, I found that many pear trees were dead and cut down just to increase the barren hillside fields? The scenery of the perfect hometown on a moonlit night in spring will never be there again. In the future, I can only cherish the beautiful memories in my heart, and I can only recite "the full moon in the pear flower garden and the light wind in the catkin pond" from time to time to make up for the faint sadness and regret.
I love the moonlit night in my hometown in spring, where I have the truest dreams of my childhood and adolescence. It is a shelter for my soul, and that love is the purest and most persistent.
Youth is fleeting, just like a short urban spring. After experiencing and suffering, I have gradually felt tired. The desolation and numbness of the emotional world, the withering and drifting of the rational soul, these common problems of urbanites are inevitable. However, the temptation of all kinds of material desires and the cruelty of survival competition still can't drown out the past feelings to some extent. They can always hide in the corner of their hearts, reminiscing about the spring moonlight in their hometown and loving the willow trees in the city alone.
The beauty of nature in this world will be less and less, forcing us to be good at remembering and looking for it.
Hometown complex
My hometown is Xiongyuecheng, a small town in Liaodong Peninsula. There is a mountain called Wanger Mountain. He is not as tall as the Himalayas, nor does he have the majestic posture of three mountains and five mountains, but he has a beautiful legend of loving mothers looking forward to their children's return, which has been widely circulated among the people for many years.
My father was born in this legendary land. When he was young, he left his hometown with his grandfather and embarked on the road of no return. Grandpa died in another country soon, and his father drifted away, and finally settled in Taonan Prefecture. He got married and had me and my brothers and sisters. My father can make a living and worked as a factory director and director. He has a cheerful personality and a happy family life. But on New Year's Day, he was unhappy, frowning and lying in bed without saying a word. Later, his mother set out his knot, and the root of this knot is homesickness and homesickness. In order to make my father happy, our brothers pestered him to tell anecdotes about his hometown, which was quite effective. Father told the bitter and interesting stories of his ancestors in his childhood. Especially when it comes to the mountains and rivers in my hometown, I talk about them with relish, like a few treasures. What about Beiguan Street and Eight Scenes? Especially when it comes to Wanger Mountain, he is very happy, which is the highlight of his story. The description of Wanger Mountain is vivid, and the listener seems to be there. Before I went to my hometown, the landscape of looking up had gradually formed in my mind.
Father died of illness. On his deathbed, he was still obsessed with his hometown. He was lying on his deathbed, holding my brothers and sisters' hands, and with tears in his eyes, he said to us intermittently, "Children, when you are free, go back to your hometown and walk with your loved ones. Don't lose touch, our roots are there ... "
Source: (/s/blog _ 6068cc470100dh7i.html)-Hometown Complex (Prose) _ Railway Tianfeng _ Sina Blog
I listen to my father very much. Whenever I have the chance, I will return to Xiongyue City, see my relatives in my hometown, visit the streets and alleys of the town, climb the precipice of Wanger Mountain, roam the vast sea and indulge in the local customs and mountains and rivers of my hometown. Calm down and savor the story told by my father, and feel my father's attachment to his hometown and his unforgettable love for his loved ones. I have been to my hometown several times and witnessed the changes in my hometown. This quaint town is integrated with many modern buildings, and Wanger Mountain is dotted with many towers, halls and pavilions, which makes this "small island" more enchanting against the endless fruit forest like waves. The changes of the town record the progress of the times, especially this humble Wanger Mountain. Isn't she a symbol of the motherland? ? Many of our sons and daughters are far away from home, and the lyrics of "Wandering Son" express the voice of the wanderer. Looking around, isn't the blue brick tower on Wanger Mountain the embodiment of loving mother? He stood on the mountain peak, letting the wind and rain tear at him, enduring the cold and longing for the return of his children, which is also the origin of this ancient legend. Can such a scene really not make people feel excited?
My father loves my hometown, so do I. We all love our hometown. The beauty of mountains, water and people in my hometown is more beautiful, and there are endless pen and ink books, which painters can't finish painting.
To be exact:
Wandering all his life,
The loving mother is looking forward to her return,
Holding the soil of my hometown,
My thoughts are surging,
Long-lasting and eternal love,
Do your best in this mountain.