Two lines of tears hung on my cheeks. I thought of my grandfather and his dignified manner when facing rice. My heart suddenly understood what grandpa meant. The sunshine outlines the old man in my memory, with a rough bark-like face and a slightly flat mouth. I smoothed a new ear of rice, threw it into my mouth and chewed it crispy. A flower blooms on an old face, rippling layer by layer, stretching layer by layer, and there is endless sweetness in the rippling! The heartfelt worship of rice lights up the most sacred lighthouse in a farmer's heart. The simplest flowers and the most spectacular dance of life constitute the most beautiful scenery in the world.
In eastern Hubei, whether in towns or villages, the interpretation of life is so simple, with rice. Is it noble? Is it mean? Is it extraordinary? Is it vulgar? Without exception, they are inextricably linked with Daoxiang. Life and death are the two ends of life, which are inextricably linked with rice. At one end, * * *' s small mouth croaked, looking for nipples for the first time and calling to the world. Grandpa, grandma, uncle and aunt have brought the thin and bright rice paste to the front. Oh, the little creature is still clutching his mouth and clenching his fist. Grandma's rice paste is very fragrant and close to his lips. Ah, the smell of rice paste wrinkled his mouth. Ha, grandpa smiled, and grandma smiled, too. The smell of human fireworks, rice pulp opens a new game. From then on, the sea is vast, the road is long, and the road of life is extended day by day. At the other end, the road of life comes to an abrupt end, and the soul who has been busy all his life is wandering. A lamp was lit in front of the deceased, and the light beam penetrated through the long night, guiding the ghost to take a nap in the cooked place, and a bowl of rice was fragrant, rice.
Rice is the source of strength for the dance of life.
The time sequence is clear, and the rice has been taken out of the warm warehouse. Grab a handful, spread it out in the palm of your hand, and get close to the light. Huang Liang and Shendian will become warm in your heart. The heart flower has bloomed before the rice. However, this rice is not used for cooking, but for seeds. They need to be soaked in warm water with yellow mud to soften the chaff. It is no longer hard, it has the elasticity of life, and it even begins to dream. After that, pick up the chubby rice, filter it and cover it with straw. The warmth of the straw made him sleepy, and he smelled his mother. In the dark and warm environment, it had a flowering dream. In the dream, white roots are flying, ah, soothing and elegant, and the germination of life is so poetic and romantic!
In the rainy Jiangbei, a new song is being sung in the drizzle. A new man as beautiful as flowers and pure as jade came to the field, wearing a floral umbrella and a floral coat, with a charming face. There is also a charming face of germinated rice seeds, which are leisurely scattered in Huangmei Xiaoqu, fall into the soil, get into bed, take root and sprout, and sleep soundly ... After three or five days, the color of life is getting deeper and deeper every day. You see, the golden rice husk is dim, depressed and retired, while the green leaves are just beginning to purr and walk in the fields in the early morning, far away.
The sunshine becomes severe. The water in the rice field is no longer cold. The frog began to sing. Some people are squatting in the ditch of paddy field, and their fingers are making strange cooing sounds at the water's edge, like the struggle of insects. The hungry eel jumped up and fell into the man's fish basket at once.
Melia azedarach flowers are not transplanted, and Polygonum hydropiper flowers are hungry ... Just after Tomb-Sweeping Day, Melia azedarach flowers have just opened, and the finely divided flowers seem to be still hanging on the branches, and the pace of transplanting has been in a hurry. Someone sang Huangmei Opera "Song of Transplanting" and bent down to work quickly in the rice field. This is the most spectacular and touching battle I have ever seen. Dozens and hundreds of people formed a huge team, hunched over their backs and walking backwards with yellow seedlings in their hands. A large area of seedlings suddenly fell into the soil and became a vast landscape of life. ...
When he was only a teenager, he was driven to the fields by his grandfather to grow rice. Lower your waist and stretch yourself. You are so hungry, grandpa nags. Grasshopper on my thin legs, digging, not down, digging again, ah, blood, mom, I screamed, I was about to go ashore, but grandpa forced me to stop. I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid ... the blood is flowing, I'm calm ... Grandpa pulled a handful of plaster and rubbed it, and the juice dripped on the wound.
From then on, I understood that men still want to see blood.
I am weak, and my joints swell and I have a fever at the sight of cold water. Grandpa said to himself, it is good to take root and eat, and it is good not to grow a skill. I don't know what a craft is, but I like reading. I know that Cui Cui in Border Town is very good, which makes me understand that I can't be the good countryman described by my grandfather.
The sun is getting hotter. The seedlings are dancing in the wind. Saturated with the vitality of life, the color of the first plant in the vast world changes three times a day, from light yellow to dark green and dark green. It pulls out its pregnant head and flies like a flag. Bees first discovered the news of flowers, and the idea of rice fragrance was deciphered by bees. You see, they are dancing and singing in groups.
Grandpa's footsteps are getting more and more diligent. Shuttling back and forth between the field and home, my face is full of expectation. Standing on the ridge of the field, I often reach out and touch those rice and grains. Grandfather has planted rice all his life. Finally, at the end of his life, he turned himself into ripe rice, bent down deeply and blended with the soil.
That's the flag of my grandfather's soul. When I was born, I worked in this land. When I died, I turned into the biggest ear of rice, cultivated the land and silently guarded the blue sky for one hundred years, one thousand years and ten thousand years. When Tomb-Sweeping Day arrived, facing the purple flowers on the hillside, I thought of the old man who died and had nothing to say.
In autumn, I often walk in the fields. The endless heavy golden yellow and the heavy sickle make my thoughts fly, and I think of the distance. Walking on the ridge and being caressed by the sunshine, I became more excited, more sentimental and more like a poet. I have gained a lot and become more determined and practical.
The smell of rice is stronger. After stroking a handful of ears of rice, Huang Chengcheng came to my nose. At this moment, the wind was no longer fierce and the birds stopped talking. You will think of the whiteness of rice, the fragrance of steamed buns, and even the flower-like handprints on them. You may even think of little red dot in a bun printed by a clever woman. All this is the beginning of the coming dance of life. Ah, the most solemn moment of the year! People are full of energy. Holding a sickle, Jin Yuanye danced the most beautiful and spectacular dance. In the light of the knife, in the Jin Lang, the rice fell one by one, giving off a huge and sonorous melody, like the rumbling footsteps of the Yangtze River and the beat of Gan Kun's running. ...
The fields are getting more and more fertile. The color blocks of gold, green and silvery white are more vivid and handsome against the blue sky. People and working people joined the "dance". An old man walked steadily in the procession, with rice on his shoulder and his face as rough as bark. Grandpa? Grandpa. I haven't seen you for years. Is everything okay with you? Grandpa doesn't talk, his waist sticks to the ground as far as possible, and his eyes are dignified, warm and pious.
A child came up to him.
Ah, but is he a grandfather?
A man sings Huangmei Opera. Desolate, far away: ten fingers pointing to my sister's shoulder, I have something to say in my heart. ...
Eastern Hubei, my home. The most fascinating dance in life is on.