Once upon a time, a few short figures with crocheted hair, either carrying baskets full of grass, or holding various bottles full of old bagworms, stepped into the twilight to return to the poor but cozy door of the house. With pickles and radishes, I nibbled on a nest, drank a bowl of pumpkin soup, and finished my homework under the dim kerosene lamp, picking at my blackened nostrils, and then fell asleep to the sound of a few barking dogs.
My mother put down the broken fan that she was tired of mooing and walked into my dream. The rooster sings in the morning, waking us up from our dreams. A new day of labor began, and a season of crops was planted and harvested. Week after week, our height was stretched by the years, unknowingly grew into adults, and one by one gradually left home, into the university, into the city's prosperity. The countryside, where we were raised, was far behind us.
Twenty-two years after his mother's death, the county is only fifty miles away from his hometown, but as long as he can get back, he will try not to live in his hometown. The first time I saw this was when I was a kid, and it was the first time I'd ever seen a kid who was a kid, and it was the first time I'd ever seen a kid who was a kid.
At this point in time, the hometown, has long since changed the appearance of the old days. Red brick and blue tile of the old house old house, has become a beautiful two-story villa; those greedy us, tempting our childhood in spite of the pants were scraped, but also want to climb the tree hook picking elm money, acacia flowers, yellow apricots and red dates, has long since disappeared, and replaced by the neighboring houses in front of the house behind the neatly pruned fruit trees. The village roads and paths are all hardened, and the yards of every house are either paved with pavement bricks or cement wiped smooth and clean, so that even if you come from a long way in the rain, you no longer have to knock on the soles of your shoes as we did in our childhood, the yellow mud.
The streets are full of either grandpas or grandmas, or they are full of middle-aged and old-aged people, and the young and strong couples, in pairs and couples, are working in the city to make ends meet. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and then you can get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world!
The clean farmhouse is equipped with cameras, computers, and air conditioning. The big grandpa leisurely in the air conditioning under the drink beer, nibbling on the tiger skin chicken claws, watching the big screen TV; two grandma in the brigade department of the small square dancing elderly square dance, mouth humming Yu opera, the children on vacation lying in front of the computer to play the game to their heart's content. Yard energy-saving light bulbs so much, so bright, a little movement, where there is still a need to raise the dog, the camera is an electronic dog, watch the house and protect the yard all-powerful.
Childhood summer can be heard everywhere in the chorus of cicadas, now belongs to the village tree on the rare things, concrete, they suffocate can not come out. The pesticide spraying, even under the windowsill of the home are no more summer night chirping insects.
At night, you can't hear the dog barking.
When I woke up in the morning, I couldn't hear the chickens crowing.
After the rain, I can't hear the frogs' drums.
The village of my childhood is long gone.
I drove back to the city as if I had lost something. As soon as I entered the neighborhood, I saw a young woman with a pet dog in her hand, muttering that she was so busy at work that she forgot to slip her "little friend". Another young woman was answering the phone as she walked, bragging to the other side of the phone about the weeds she had pulled and how delicious the buns were.
The pet dog was conveniently in the flower garden bushes, a pile of dog feces piled up next to it, and the song cicadas in the trees jeered at the top of their voices with impunity. The dog looked up and barked at the tree. The previous day's heavy rain, not far from the formation of low-lying puddles filled with muddy muddy water, two frogs, a high and low and a duet.
Early in the morning, the east has just revealed the white of the fish belly, the upstairs neighbor's children for the morning reading set into the alarm bell of the chickens crowing, on the eardrums knocked over. This time, there were chickens, dogs, cicadas, frog drums, wild vegetables, all of it. In a daze, I thought I was back in the countryside of my childhood.