Living in the city for a long time, I often hear Mandarin, pop music and car horns. Mandarin must be spoken, otherwise how can people from all countries communicate? Pop music must be played, which is a measure for shops to attract business, and it does add some flavor to monotonous life; Cars are a sign of social progress, and speakers are necessary for traffic safety. ..... All similar voices in the city should be or must be, and I will never take a negative attitude. What I want to say is that for someone of some age, I haven't heard the lingering local accent as a child for a long time.
Spring has come, so have the swallows. Swallows have shiny black feathers, a pair of handsome wings and a tail like scissors. They landed on the eaves and built their nests on the purlins of the house. As a result, there was a crisp chirp in the yard. Soon, the swallow was born, and a tender voice joined, sometimes mixed with the squeak of sparrows. People come and go, birds are singing and flowers are fragrant, which is a natural, harmonious and quiet scene in the farmhouse.
There is a road leading to farmland behind the village, and there are several puddles of different shapes on both sides of the road. There is water all year round, and it rises in summer. Li Shangyin said, "It rains in the autumn pool at night", and summer water in my hometown is the most abundant. As soon as the rain stopped, we couldn't wait to go out and enjoy the scenery after the rain. In fact, we are trying to relax the restriction that we can't go out because of the rain. When I arrived in the village, the first thing I heard was the frog chorus. Some of them lie on the water's edge, bulging their bellies and holding their heads up, others hide in reeds, and hundreds of them spare no effort to make a sound. I remembered Xin Qiji's "Yellow Sand Road Night Xijiang Moon", "The bright moon surprises magpie, and the breeze knows at midnight. In the fragrance of rice flowers, it is said that the harvest is good and the frogs can be heard. " I don't think I have heard that accent for decades.
When I was a child, I didn't take a nap at noon in summer. Guess grandpa and dad fell asleep, so they crept out of the yard with sticky tools and opened the street gate carefully, really afraid of being called back by grandpa. Running out of the house was a feeling of liberation, and soon I came to Third Grandma's yard. The sun shines through the dense branches, the ground is covered with mottled shadows, and the garden is quiet, with only one sound: cicada singing. I can't see where cicada is, but the whole garden is cicada. They don't care whether others like it or not, they just call tirelessly. They must think their voices are better than the Beijing opera "The Drunken Lady", even though I am the only audience, I am not lazy. Over time, the constant chorus gave me a mark: this is summer. And where is the unique local accent this summer?
The autumn sky is far and wide, and there are several white clouds floating in the blue sky. Clouds are changing their shapes. For a while, they were like a big lion, like two stone lions at the east end of the village, so they squatted quietly, but soon changed. The big lion is gone, and the clouds are gone. Suddenly, it seems that a flock of geese flew past the lion just now. At first it was a point, and there was no sound. It soon became clear that they were flying overhead in the shape of "people", and at the same time they made a "quack" cry, which spread far in the open field until the geese became a word and flew south, and the voice of "quack" came from the air. After entering the city, I have never heard the long-lost "croak" sound.
"Repairing foreign locks-matching keys", as soon as I heard a long cry, I followed my grandmother with an iron lock to the front of the pole bearer who repaired the locks. There are many large and small things hanging on his pickaxe. In the process of matching keys for us, I still don't forget to shout "repair foreign locks-match keys", and the lingering sound is endless.
"Sharpen scissors-grab a kitchen knife", a tall bald old man came over carrying a bench. One end of the bench is a grindstone, and the other end is a cloth bag, which contains various related tools. Hearing this familiar voice, grandpa came out with a kitchen knife. I was interested in the unique and pleasant cry-"Grinding scissors-chopping a kitchen knife."
The tools used by vendors to drum up business are very special. It is a wooden stick more than a foot long, with a small drum on it and a small gong under it. He lifted it and turned it, and the gongs and drums made a sound at the same time. Then, I knew that the glass ball seller came, the magnet seller came, and the pear cream candy seller came.
On winter nights, people in the village went to bed early, so as not to light a lamp to boil oil, but they cried before falling asleep. Under normal circumstances, it is at this time that the cry of "pancake-zygote" will be heard in the street. Although it is not too late, the street is already very quiet. Occasionally, dogs bark. As soon as the cry stopped, the "pancake zygote" came. I must stop sleeping at this time and pester my parents to buy one. Sheep blood, tofu, vermicelli and coriander are wrapped in pancakes, which are delicious. The seller of pancake zygote walked eastward in the sound of "pancake-zygote", but the sound spread far in the night.
Nowadays, these local accents are hard to hear. We are so busy in the whirlpool of fame and fortune that we lose ourselves for the so-called goal and get used to Mandarin, pop music and car horns. But when everything is silent, in the depths of my soul, those simple and warm local accents still ring clearly.
I heard a long-lost local accent in the silent night.