Looking at the autumn rain with the porch, cool into the summer clothes. Birds with high eyes are not frequent, and clouds are light when they are light. The swamp is more open and the leaves of the mountain are still ringing. Chuko went to Qiu Jiang, rustling national conditions.
On the night of June+10/October 65438+March 2020, it was raining cold. Wet and cold air seeps into the room through the gap in the office window, and the jacket worn on the body can't resist the cold in autumn. Outside the window, autumn leaves are falling in the rain, which makes me not only feel that time flies and life is easy to get old, but also realize the significance of falling leaves returning to their roots. If the destination of a leaf is the root and the soil that nourishes its growth, then when a person moves from one place to another and grows old, the place where his spirit is led and his soul is bound is probably his hometown-the hometown where he was born and raised.
At the moment, when my thoughts drifted to my hometown, Mr. Du Xiangdong, the editor-in-chief of Hometown of Heaven and Earth and my literary friend, asked me to write something for this book through WeChat, and I readily agreed. This book is a collection of essays of Dream Home initiated by Mr. Du Xiangdong at the end of 2065438+2008 with Mr. Fan Zhanbiao, Manager Gao Xiaowen and Mr. Zhang Guochang, a literary friend of Fanjiamen Scenic Area. Although more than a year has passed since this activity, I am still moved by some warm plots about this activity.
Fanjiamen Popo Bridge has been swaying in my dream. In response to this essay activity, on New Year's Day of 20 19, more than 20 literary friends, including Xiang Dong, Guo Chang, Yan Fang, Xia Shu and Qiao Hong, came to Fanjiamen, the hometown of the mountain village, to experience collecting folk songs. That day, after the snow in Chu Qing, the sky was blue and the clouds were white. It was the beginning of the new year, and everyone was very excited. The winding path in Lailong Cave leads to a secluded place, the long wind whistling on Waipo Bridge, the walnut trees are tall and straight, the heavenly heart is like heaven, and the stone houses and caves are like primitive tribes. Now that I think about it, I still remember it vividly. These beautiful and quaint rural scenes evoke memories of literary friends in their hometown; In particular, the crumbling Waipo Bridge reminds people of their homeland. Where there is love, there is poetry. After the visit, many works were created and published in Dengfeng Times, which was edited by Mr. Xiang Dong at that time, and became a beautiful scenery in Dengfeng literary world. Taking this as an introduction, more literary friends also participated in the essay-writing activity of "dreaming of returning home". Everyone picked up their pens one after another, or praised the construction of beautiful countryside, or expressed their thoughts about their old friends, or poured out their frustration at the difficulty of returning home, and created many weighty works.
Talk, just because my hometown touched my heartstrings. Teacher Wang wrote in the poem "Dream Back to Hometown": "Stone kilns, stone mills, stone tables/remembering ancient homesickness/ancient villages, old wells, earth walls/pouring out simple love stories." Li Qingzhao, a poet in the Song Dynasty, also lamented with a sentimental poem: "Where is my hometown? If you forget, you will be drunk. " Loving and missing one's hometown is an eternal theme in China's literary creation. From the euphemistic and sentimental poem in The Book of Songs, "I used to be gone, and there is another village" to the modern "Why do I often have tears in my eyes? Because of my deep love for this land, the poem "This kind of tears that are expressed directly often involve my hometown, and there are always many" is unforgettable. Personally, I think there is no land or house in this world that is more memorable than my hometown. When these scenes and characters in my hometown disappear or die and can no longer be found in reality, this kind of pain from the depths of my soul will surge out.
Wang Jiqiang wrote in the article "Flat Bean Blossoms Bloom in the Heart of Hometown" with extremely lyrical writing: "The lentils in my hometown are full of flowers in my hometown's vegetable garden, and those crazy branches and vines are all over my hometown's fence, just like my childish thoughts, climbing up the fence of the yard. Flowers season after season, my heart is full. The smell of lentils inspired a happy childhood. " How can this memory full of flowers not make people want to stay? "Grey vegetables, earthworms, ghost needles, mouse troubles, etc. These can make people imagine what they look like at once. The same is true of Dog's Tail, which is vivid and vivid, but I think Wang Wanggou is more exciting. If "dog tail" is a metaphor, then "Wang Wanggou" is synaesthesia. It reminds us of a cute puppy from the dog's tail, and then turns from the perspective to the hearing, which makes people seem to hear a barking dog. " (Zhao Chi) Savor this exquisite writing carefully, as if every wild grass is an elf, and every wild vegetable will whisper softly.
Reading every poem in this book is like returning to my dream hometown, and a secular rural picture is slowly unfolding in front of our readers. It's like looking for a hometown hidden in your heart along the "hometown road". Do you still remember the place where the bright moon looks at the river for thousands of miles and the white clouds embrace the secluded stone dream? We crossed the crazy river of childhood, crossed the persimmon forest by the river and came to the threshing floor of our hometown. On the threshing floor, I still remember enjoying the cool here in midsummer, eating an old popsicle with a banana fan, and I still remember Fanjiamen's Winter Tour, and moving the bench here to watch the Tiger Club in my hometown. Just "Now, close to my village and meeting people, I dare not ask a question". You see, "Wang Wanggou" is still swaying under the cliff, the flat bean flowers are still in full bloom in the fields, and the "trees in the old house" are still tall and straight in the wind and rain, but things have changed with the change of the old house. Those old people who bake sweet potatoes around the coal fire have been integrated with the soil in their hometown. Hometown is a thorn. Looking at the unrecognizable "makeup" of our hometown, we sang "Wandering Son" and "Green Leaves Missing Roots" lightly, with joy and inexplicable melancholy in our hearts. Hometown is a thorn. It is deeply imprinted in our bones. The longer the time, the deeper the damage!
This book is a collection of essays, including poems, essays and novels, with diverse genres and styles. Some are as simple as loess, some are as tender as mountains and rivers, some are like chatting under the stars and moons, and some are like splashing water on Luya Waterfall. But no matter which way it is written, it is a spiritual movement played by the author with deep affection. Listening to these heartfelt sounds of nature, I seem to have returned to my childhood, to the fields, to Yang Shulin where cicadas are chirping, and to the river where frogs are chirping.
When this book was published in Fu Zi, it also coincided with the tightening of the epidemic. I took the liberty of publishing an "online discussion" for this book, knowing that the words were clumsy and could not express my ardent expectations to Mr. I just want to use this as a brick to arouse everyone's appreciation of Meiyu.
(The author is the chairman of Dengfeng Writers Association)