Beautiful article about a rural courtyard full of childhood memories
I have been away from my hometown in the countryside for more than thirty years, and the illusions in my brain are often inseparable from the scenes in my hometown. My hometown is the cradle of my childhood. No matter how far I go or how long I am away, the memory of my hometown is still clear. The cordial calls of "Little Yao'er" from childhood are still reaching my ears. A kind of simple and deep nostalgia has always warmed me through the ups and downs of the years.
My hometown is Shikoumen Village, Shikoumen Township, Shanxi Province. In the past, there was no through lane in my hometown. When I returned to my hometown, I would often get off at the Yakou of National Highway 307, then go down a steep slope, and then cross the alley in the village. When I vaguely smelled the cinnamon in my yard, I couldn't contain my inner joy. In a hurry, he climbed up the stairs and shouted eagerly to the old house with stone walls and black tiles: "Mother, mother, I'm back, I'm back". At this time, if my mother had not gone out to visit, she would have run out tremblingly with excitement: My son, you are coming back, you are coming back. Then, my mother and I tried hard to suppress the tears of excitement.
My hometown is surrounded by mountains, shaded by green trees and tinkling springs. The original stone ancient village has been spared the modern urban buildings and has been well preserved, becoming a "paradise" that is free from the world. Every August when cinnamon is in season, I will definitely go back to my hometown. In this season, the osmanthus trees in the yard are full of vitality. The scenery of dense green leaves and thousands of yellow flowers is very endearing. The charming and long fragrance can't help but be inhaled again and again, always wanting to This unique fragrance is hidden in my heart. A gust of cool breeze blew by, and the scattered petals fell scatteredly, and the yard was covered with a layer of fine golden osmanthus, like a beautiful tapestry that you can't bear to step on. In the evening, I sit quietly under the osmanthus tree and look at the moon. From time to time, petals fall gently and quietly on my body. The fragrance is refreshing and refreshing. I can't help but think of the poet of the Song Dynasty who praised the osmanthus: "Beyond the dust of the world, there is a cold fragrance." pistil. It is suspected that Yue'e was drunk in the sky, and she moved the yellow clouds to pieces. ?Tasting the beautiful poems and being in this scene, I feel like I am intoxicated by the sweet-scented osmanthus. On such an intoxicating night, gather some friends under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree, drink wine and admire the moon, or sing and dance. It will give you an otherworldly feeling, less impetuous and arrogant, and you will be able to listen to something that will soothe your soul. A true call.
I like to go back to my hometown because I am nostalgic for the old banyan tree in my hometown. The big banyan tree is not afraid of severe cold and heat, but it is always lush and vigorous. The crown of the tree stands silently between the sky and the earth like a giant umbrella, persistently shielding the village neighbors from wind and rain. The tree roots hang down from the trunk more than one foot high and penetrate into the ground. The roots are intertwined and undulating. The big banyan tree is placed in the middle of the square in the village. It is wonderful to chat and enjoy the shade under the tree, or to play cards and chess. Year after year, year after year, the big banyan tree is like a caring mother, blessing villagers for generations to enjoy the warmth and joy of nature. Thinking of the big banyan tree in my hometown, I felt a solid feeling of "being calm even after washing away all the troubles". It made me understand that reality is the land under my feet. I can neither live in illusory dreams nor indulge in the noisy reality and drift with the tide. Learn to face it. Reality, accept reality, use real efforts as the cornerstone of dreams, and let appropriate dreams sublimate real life.
In my hometown, which is full of childhood memories, what fascinates me the most is the mountains and forests behind the village. The villagers hold a mountain sacrifice event here every year to pray for the protection of the gods. In people's hearts, logging is not allowed where there are gods. Naughty children are much more disciplined when they come here than usual. Therefore, the vegetation here is relatively well protected. The trees are densely packed and competing to grow. The lush branches and leaves are intertwined and woven into a natural green tent. During the flower blooming season, those colorful flowers are dotted in the lush green forest, which is extremely beautiful. Every time I leave here, I always feel reluctant to leave, just like a wayward child reluctant to leave its mother. When we were children, we loved to come to this forest to look for chicken fir trees. When we were lucky, we would pick up piles of chicken fir trees. We washed them with the spring water in the forest, took them home, and jumped into the chicken fir trees in our yard. Pick two handfuls of fresh tomatoes and tender peppers from the vegetable garden to stir-fry chicken fir. The aroma makes people salivate. Then they cook the salted noodles, a specialty of the hometown, until they turn yellow, and then cook them into fragrant chicken fir salted noodles and eat them in your mouth. Inside, it's crispy but not hard, fragrant and delicious. It's really delicious. There are also springs in the mountains and forests, gurgling out from the cave halfway up the mountain. They are clear and sweet, warm in winter and cool in summer. When outside guests drink from the mountain spring here, they will pour out the tea they brought, empty their teacups or beverage bottles, fill them with spring water, and take them home. There was also someone who wanted to use the water resources here to produce mineral water. I also helped to come up with a simple and clear name "Shanlin Mineral Spring". Because the transportation in my hometown was inconvenient at the time, it was just a talk. Later, the government invested in the construction of reservoirs and installed water pipes in every household. Villagers no longer had to carry water on horseback as they did in the past, but the water brought to their homes through water pipes lacked the original taste. Therefore, I still like it. Go to the mountains and forests to drink spring water. If you have anything to do, you should go to the springs in the mountains and forests to stay, look at the creek, listen to the birdsong, and look for the crows that you fought for with your friends when you were a child. Those chubs are really blessed to grow here, and they grow more and more lushly. Among the stretched branches and leaves, there are plump purple crow seeds hanging out to the edge of the stream. They can be picked with your hands, and they are sour and sweet.
In the season when the seeds of the wormwood are ripe, the young and sweet children's voices will be heard in the mountains and forests where the streams flow: "Eat the wormwood, drink from the mountain spring, the hot summer is like the Chinese New Year. Now facing these pure and innocent aftertaste of children's fun, how can we... Facing it with a scarred heart, while feeling panic and shame, I look at myself reflected in the water, think of my friends who have gone far away, and think of those yellowed memories. Unknowingly, my eyes are already wet, but the mountain spring is still flowing along the ditch. Flow quietly, follow your own trajectory, flow in your own direction, be romantic and happy alone.
Spring comes and goes, flowers fall and bloom again. Over the past thirty years, my hometown has undergone tremendous changes. In the past, the cellar was muddy on rainy days and dusty on sunny days. The stockade was often filled with the stench of livestock manure. Now it looks like an elegant ink painting: stone walls, black tiles, ancient trees, creeks, bamboos? Dotted with red lanterns under the eaves. This is not an ink painting, this is a simple and quiet ancient village called the mysterious Tiankeng Yubulu. Its freshness, refinement and elegance allow you to quietly sip tea and listen to the singing of birds, forgetting the troubles and disputes of the world. This is a luxury that cannot be enjoyed in modern cities. This is my lovely hometown.
? Even if a tree is a thousand feet tall, it will never forget its roots. My hometown is my eternal root. No matter how far I go or how long I am away, I can never escape the memory of my hometown.
Whenever I think of my hometown, I can't help but hum "Sentimental Land": I love you deeply, this passionate land, on the path I walk on, there are bursts of flowers and birds singing?