My father, who can't live without the land all his life, is old now and keeps an empty yard by himself. He no longer has the strength to feed crops in the fields every day as he used to, but he can't help himself. The open space inside and outside the courtyard wall has been carefully raked by my father and planted with various seasonal vegetables.
Outside the gate, near the courtyard wall, there is a piece of empty land less than 10 square meter. Those rows of mountain leeks were planted by my father a few years ago. Father doesn't like leeks, and now he is too old to chew fried leeks. However, his father still takes care of leeks tirelessly, pulling weeds and fertilizing them. Every spring, fresh and green leeks always appear on the seedbed, and his father will cut them off for us or eat them left. That light green crop, together with the persimmon trees, Chinese toon trees and walnut trees planted by my father in front of the door, and a large cluster of forever green bamboo, grew into a green ocean in midsummer.
When my mother was alive, she would plant a row of loofah against the wall in the leek bed, and the vines of loofah seedlings would climb up along the courtyard wall, making the whole courtyard wall a green landscape. But my father doesn't seem to like climbing loofah vines everywhere. Since my mother died, the roots of the wall, like those in the leek beds, have been cleaned by my father frequently, without any weeds. The wall made of red bricks was mottled by dusty rain. For some years, it just reflected the green of summer and guarded the quiet home with my father.
Inside the gate, in the vegetable field where the right hand is not tight on the courtyard wall and there are low guardrails around it, spinach and oil cabbage are planted from winter to the end of spring, which sets off the spacious and empty courtyard with colorful colors. Not only does my father always have endless vegetables, but even our refrigerator is always full. Now, this land has been planted with a row of spicy vegetables, a row of cucumbers, a row of tomatoes and a row of cowpeas by my father. It is neat and lush, full of rich green vitality, and the whole yard is even more lively.
The fresh cucumber hanging straight, with yellow flowers, is so tender that people can't help but want to pick one and put it in their mouth, but now dad can't bite the fresh cucumber any more. Red and green tomatoes, large and small, are looming among the seedlings that are more than one person tall. Chopsticks thick light green cowpea scattered on vines, swaying slightly in the wind. ...
On the wire rope erected by my father along the wall in the vegetable field, dense branches and vines spread from the vegetable field along the wall to the gate, strings of green grapes hung from the huge green leaves, and cucumber cowpea racks overflowed from the wall. In the corner of the gate, the vine spread to another vine on the whole gate, which was even worse. When my mother was alive, my father bought new varieties of grape seedlings from Yangling Agricultural City and planted them with my mother.
Today, the dark and uneven branches of this vine are as thick as the thighs of adults. Every year, new branches will climb all over the gate and gate, and they are always covered with huge clusters of grapes. Father, on the other hand, can no longer climb the door to pick grapes as easily as in previous years. He often can only stand in the yard, holding his head high and squinting, looking at the clusters of grapes among the grapevines with large green leaves, from green to red and then black. He recalled that when the grapes were ripe, he stood under the clusters of grapes on the high gate, holding scissors and carrying a basket, looking up and smiling at his mother in a wheelchair in the yard, cutting off clusters of grapes. ...
We seldom go home when mom is away. My father still takes care of the vegetables, grapes and the increasingly lush trees at the gate inside and outside the yard, just as he took care of us when he was a child. Even if we are tired, as long as we watch new life sprout among the dead branches of the land, our father will feel gratified and satisfied.
My father stored the picked cucumbers, cowpeas, tomatoes and grapes in the refrigerator. As long as I go back, every time I leave, my father will not only take out all the vegetables left in the refrigerator, but also insist on picking fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, cowpeas, peppers or grapes among the vines in the vegetable field, and even forget to cut a handful of bright green leeks outside the gate and fill them with bags of all sizes.
At that moment, my father was as happy as an inspired child. My father, who shuttles back and forth in the vegetable garden, seems to have a vigorous gait and wants to give us all the fruits of his labor.
There are so many big bags and small bags that it is inconvenient to take a bus. In fact, we can buy these fruits and vegetables at any time, but we just can't bear to stop and refuse my father, because this is his heavy love. ...
About the author:
Jia Bingmei, female, born in Baoji, Shaanxi after 70. Member of Baoji Writers Association. Articles are scattered in newspapers and periodicals all over the country, such as Baoji Daily, Culture and Art Daily, Shanxi Daily and China Community Newspaper.
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