[prose? ]
? Text/Cai Li
Is there anything in this world that I can't help but look at every time I meet? There is bamboo.
Bamboo is bamboo. All my life, I will stay in Tsing Yi, cultivate my mind, and stay away from the hubbub. Fortunately, there is bamboo in your eyes.
I remember that in those years, it was common to meet bamboo in any village in my hometown of Gaoping Town. On the hillside and under the ridge, there are pieces of wild bamboo. Around the farmhouse, there are patches of bamboo planted by farmers. Bamboo, bamboo, bamboo, bamboo-close your eyes and bamboo will appear in my heart. Since then, it has been in my heart.
At that time, most of the farmhouses were earth-walled houses, stone-walled houses or wooden houses. The wall is the color of earth, stone or wood, the color of breathing, like an elegant attachment. Doors and windows are mostly made of wood, with simple locks and knockers, like a sincere guard. The roof is made up of cornices and covered with neat gray tiles, like a silent wait. Such a house, with bamboo lining, is naturally excellent. Whether it is golden bamboo and water bamboo, winter bamboo and south bamboo, or standing in front of the house in twos or threes, or swaying small bushes by the house, or a large piece of lush behind the house, a farmhouse seems to have a comfortable and detached charm, showing a simple and rich beauty. At first glance, it makes people feel safe. However, Enron is actually a luxury-many years later, I lived in the city and got farther and farther away from the farmers who planted bamboo, and I discovered this. This is not a gratifying discovery. But sadness cannot be sad.
You know, most farmers grow bamboo not for beauty, but for use. Although beauty is also a purpose, it is also used by farmers. It's just that the farmer used it unconsciously.
Life in the countryside may always look like a quiet and leisurely beauty, but only farmers who have lived in the countryside for many years can deeply understand that sometimes beauty is an ethereal concept in front of a poor life. Eating "beauty" on an empty stomach is still useless.
Strangely, however, it is farmers who use bamboo as a useful thing in various ways. Only by walking slowly or stopping quietly by a bamboo forest in the village can they produce a touching aesthetic feeling instantly. I wonder if a farmer is like a bamboo, standing between heaven and earth, growing up in time, being strong in the storm, not seeking happiness and not changing his true colors. Therefore, when farmers meet bamboo, only in such harmony will there be endless beautiful spread. That is the simple beauty of life, emitting a wisp of fragrance. That is the majestic beauty of life, full of great power.
I am a farmer, I need bamboo, I grow some bamboo, I have bamboo available-this is the truth, full of human fireworks.
Bamboo is needed. The farmer walked into his bamboo garden with a sharp and shiny sickle. His sharp eyes swept the whole bamboo forest, which trembled slightly and then smiled. The wisdom of bamboo may never be learned. Soon, the farmer locked the target, crouched down, raised his knife and fell. Bamboo pieces flew about, and one bamboo fell down, slowly. The rustling sound is the last time a bamboo sang in the bamboo forest before it landed, and it is also a farewell. The farmer didn't seem to hear anything, so he waved his knife again, removed the branches and leaves, and calmly carried the green bamboo pole back to his small yard.
The next thing will be done by craftsmen. In the farmhouse, if there is a person who can weave bamboo wares, naturally there is no need for outsiders to do it, otherwise a craftsman will be invited to do it at home. Generally, a bamboo craftsman will use a special bamboo pole knife to smooth all the bamboo joints of each selected bamboo, then break the bamboo and cut off the bamboo meat, and the bamboo will become bamboo poles with different widths.
With fresh bamboo strips, you can weave baskets, baskets, dustpans, sieves and so on. Skilled craftsmen often weave all kinds of exquisite geometric patterns with ingenuity. It can be said that a basket and a sieve are both agricultural tools and works of art. Farmers don't cut all the bamboos at home into sticks, but use some bamboos to make bamboo chairs, clothes drying poles, fences, flails and so on. Oh, the use of bamboo is really hard to describe! Which farmer doesn't need bamboo? With bamboo, farmers can more easily own all kinds of bamboo utensils needed in their lives; Days can be dull or salty, with bamboo fragrance.
There is also a bamboo forest in my home. It is still as green as ever. The old tile-roofed house with stone walls beside the bamboo forest has long been demolished, leaving only a few broken walls covered with scratches and moss of the years, as well as bamboo leaves and flying dust. ...
Every time I return to this bamboo forest, I always feel so familiar and strange. I can't say a word. I don't need to say a word, I am chasing this bamboo forest that accompanied my childhood. I smile and bamboo nods.
In spring, I often play in the bamboo forest with several children in my neighbor's house. Whoever discovers the new bamboo shoots first is like discovering the new continent. After a sigh, we are happy around the bamboo shoots. Bamboo shoots are children of bamboo, and children are really happy to see them. Looking at the youthful vitality of bamboo shoots, it seems that I am going to explode. Mother came to the bamboo forest and told us not to damage the bamboo shoots. At the same time, she broke off a few tender bamboo shoots sprinkled with sunshine or dew, put them in a bamboo basket, took them home, washed them, cut them into shreds or slices, and fried them with bacon. The fragrance drifted away. ...
In winter, it snowed, green bamboo and white snow. It was an amazing encounter, creating an extreme freshness. Green and white alternate, green and white depend on each other, making green greener and white whiter. Some bamboos are bent by snow, which is particularly charming. On weekdays, bamboo is upright, and only snow can make it bend over. Bend down willingly, bending so charming. When the snow melted, the bamboo slowly straightened up, as if it didn't remember that the snow had ever come. ...
From spring to winter, this bamboo forest seems to be a casual and energetic look every day. All the bamboo shoots suddenly grow into blooming bamboo, and all the new bamboo roots are deeply rooted in the land. Some young bamboos were cut off, some bamboo leaves covered the bamboo piles, and there were knife marks on the bamboo piles. The wind shakes the bamboo shadow and dances. If you think, if you complain, it seems harmless and carefree.
When winter goes and spring comes, this bamboo forest no longer seems to flourish. You said, bamboo is really interesting. When making bamboo shoots, every bamboo is desperately growing towards the sky. When it grows into a tall and straight bamboo, the crazy growth has disappeared without a trace, and even seems to forget to continue growing. It doesn't matter. Seeing this bamboo forest again after many years, I feel the same as when I was young-this is an illusion. It's not my fault, let alone bamboo. What's wrong with being wrong for a while?
I have no illusion, but this bamboo forest is still there, in a corner of the village with a "alive" attitude. Many people's bamboos have long since disappeared and become distant memories.
Nowadays, farmers no longer need bamboo as badly as they used to.
Farmers who are used to using bamboo utensils are getting old, and some of them have no strength or mind to buy a new bamboo utensil for themselves. When people live to a certain age, they can't live without being old. Only by keeping those "old" as much as possible can we keep a lot of our past at once, but after all, nothing can be left. Perhaps, those faded and deformed bamboo utensils can still be used, and people have been buried.
And those children who have played in the bamboo forest have grown up and rushed to the outside of the mountain. In their life, bamboo is just a dispensable thing, even a forgotten thing. The bamboo forest in my hometown, behind them, gradually disappeared ... Later, in one village after another, some bamboos disappeared. Some tastes change when they change.
On the other hand, what were the young people (including me) who rushed to the mountains without hesitation looking for? There is no unique answer. I can only say that maybe some people have gone to find other bamboos. For example, look for bamboos that stick to the green hills and are rooted in broken rocks, or their shadows and poems are thin, or their clouds are hundreds of feet high, or they are cold and snowy, or they would rather eat without meat than live without bamboo.
When a person is growing up, some ideas sometimes float in the air, and people follow. There is a vague feeling that bamboo is in the poem and bamboo is in the distance. Poetry and distance are always temptations. So, a person, began to look for. Keep searching. Perhaps, in everyone's heart, there is an infinite yearning for bamboo, which is the motivation to stimulate a person to find it. This makes people full of energy, loud voice and bright eyes. This even radiates the infinite brilliance of life.
However, where is the bamboo that I yearn for in my heart? This may never be found. Maybe one day, a person suddenly found out, why did you drive so far? Isn't the bamboo you yearn for next to your old home? At that moment, a person's footsteps stopped, and a person's eyes were gentle. At that moment, some bamboos came back to life. Raised in a person's heart.
Do you have bamboo?
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