Chapter 11 strong wind

It was summer vacation at school, so I packed up in a hurry, got on the train, and rushed back to my hometown.On the way, my heart was very heavy.A letter from my family said a few days ago that my eighty-six-year-old grandfather passed away.When I was at home during the winter vacation, the old man was still very strong, and he was not deaf or blind. Unexpectedly, in just over half a year, he passed away suddenly. Grandpa is a skinny little old man with dark complexion and gray eyes. He is very kind and loves me very much.When I was very young, my father died of illness. Grandpa, who had already "handed over power", once again provoked the burden of the family, and led my mother and me through the difficult years.Grandpa is one of the best farmers in the village. He is good at pushing carts, carrying loads, and using hoe and sickle.The work done by his hands is obviously different from that of others.On Mayday in early summer, when the wheat was yellow and ripe, all the male laborers in the team went down to the ground with sickles.The stubble cut by my grandfather was short and even, and the bundled wheat was stuck in the middle, with both ends crimped, and the ears of the wheat were neatly aligned, not even a single ear fell.The production team's carriage pulled the wheat harvested by dozens of people to the field, and when the ladies were cutting the field, they could pick out grandpa's work from the hill-like stacks of wheat.

"Look, it's Bengbeng's job again!" The wheat in the arms of the women must be tight waist and full of father's roots, as good-looking as the wheat in the arms of the little daughter-in-law wearing a headscarf that is often painted in the posters, that's why they shouted. "No one can do this job except 'Bengbeng'." The women sent the wheat to the guillotine, and the women who pressed the guillotine had one hand on their hips and one hand holding the handle of the guillotine. Naizi jumped twice like a little white rabbit, "Crack", the wheat was cut off at the middle, the root was the root, and the ear was the ear.If they come across the barley tied by the master of the Maid, the women will scold the most vivid words, and the women who press the guillotine will press the guillotine with both hands, and the breasts will shake like they want to fly away, so that the barley can be cut off.Wheat ears are often entrained in the root part.

Do everything well, concentrate on what you do, and don't think about it. This is Grandpa's rule.The tools used by grandpa are the most handy tools in the village.His hoe, sickle and shovel are all polished, without any rust.He doesn't smoke, and when he is tired from work, he squats down, or finds a piece of broken tile, or gathers hay, and polishes the shiny tools... I stepped into the house with a very depressed mood, and my mother was at home.My mother is also in her sixties, and many years of care and work have made her look much older than her actual age.My mother said that my grandfather didn't suffer from any illness. The day before his death, he pushed the cart around the Northeast Valley and cut back a blade of grass.My mother took out the grass from a magazine I threw at home, pinched it carefully, and showed it to me, "He took the grass back with both hands and said to me, 'Xing'er, mother, look at it. What kind of grass is this?' As he said, he was very happy. At night, he heard a sound in his room, got up and went to see, he was already dead... The old man did not suffer any crimes when he was dying, this is also the practice of his previous life "My mother said gracefully, "It's just that I can't serve him, and I feel so ashamed. He has worked hard all his life, it's not easy..."

Listening to my mother's words with sore eye sockets, I remembered many past events—— There is a meandering Jiao River behind my house. Walk about seven miles northeast along the high and narrow embankment, and you will arrive at a barren meadow with an area of ​​several thousand mu.Every summer, grandpa goes there to mow the grass.Twenty miles away from our village, there is a horse farm in the army. Every winter, we buy dry grass to feed the horses. The price depends on the quality of the grass.My grandfather's sickle is sharpened quickly, and his mowing skills are high. The grass cut is clean and not muddy.When drying the grass, it is spread out thinly and turned frequently. The hay is very fresh and light green, as fresh as a herbarium. Grandpa's hay has always been sold at the highest price.I still miss the joy of rolling in haystacks—especially in autumn, when the nights are cool and cool, the sky is dark green, the stars twinkle like jewels, the soft haystacks are warm, and the dry grass exudes a refreshing sweetness. fragrance……

The first time I went to the barren meadow with my grandfather to mow grass was the day not long after my seventh birthday. We started early, and there were no pedestrians on the embankment.The top of the embankment is also a gray path, with weeds growing on both sides of the path, which shrank under the pressure of pedestrians' feet, but they were still full of vitality.There is fog on the river, the fog is very heavy, but uneven, one piece of white, one piece of gray, sometimes like cooking smoke, sometimes like falling clouds.The river was invisible, but the river flowed silently under the fog, with occasional splashing noises, perhaps because the fish were moving in the water.Grandpa and I don't speak.Grandpa's steps are light and quiet, and he walks unhurriedly, and he can't hear the sound of footsteps.The wheels of the trolley rustled.Sometimes, a grass stalk that was not cleaned up on the car will fall between the spokes, and the grass stalk will gently fiddle with the spokes of the car, making a very subtle "crack, chop, ding, ding, ding" sound.I sometimes turned my face forward (grandpa pushed me in a small cart), looking at the scenery on both sides of the river bank.Sorghum fields, corn fields, and millet fields.The fog has lightened a bit, but still wraps high and low around the fields and the crops in the fields.The corn tassels like silk tassels, the corn leaves like swords, the sorghum tassels just showing off, and the strong millet tails all appear and disappear in the mist.Very far, very close.Clear and vague.The green grass leaves on the embankment are covered with shiny dewdrops, trembling slightly, saying hello to me.As the car passed by, the dew fell, leaving obvious marks on the embankment, and the color of the grass deepened.

The fog is getting thinner.The river water showed its face, it was silvery white, as if it was not flowing.The gray-blue sky is also slowly brightening, the east is gradually turning red, and the edges of the clouds are pink.The sun rose from the edge of the dew-covered fields, little by little.First, it was as red as blood, without light, not dazzling.The clouds are also as red as a cockscomb. The sky becomes like water, colorless and transparent.Then the sun popped out all of a sudden, but there was still no light, and it was not dazzling, and it was a big oval shape.At this time, you can see it climbing up quickly, as if you have pulled a switch, thousands of red lights suddenly shoot out, illuminating the sky and the earth, and the sky and the earth are suddenly brilliant. The dewdrops on the grass leaves shone like pearls.On the river lay a golden beam of light, an elongated sun.Wherever we go, the beam of light will recede.The field was still very quiet, and grandpa hummed a song carelessly.

A horse broke through the iron chain One gun killed the heroes of the world The tune is very old.The tempo is slow.The singing is tragic and desolate.Grandpa's singing slowly crawled across the open wilderness, the air was undulating due to the singing, and the lingering fog was also moving. A bowl of wine dispelled the grievances of three generations A penny stumps an unrivaled hero When grandpa sang the first syllable, I turned my head back, faced grandpa, and fixed my eyes on him.His head was bald, and the bald spot was smooth and shiny, without a single fine wrinkle.His gillless face was wooden and expressionless.The eyes are dazed, but there are two bright light spots in the middle of the dazed eyes. I stare at these two light dots, and I seem to feel warm.I think he probably forgot about me, himself, the car, and the fields that haven't woken up yet?His walking, carting, and singing have nothing to do with him, right?I heard the beating of my own heart, "咚咚咚咚", like a woodpecker digging a tree hole in a tree far, far away...

A laugh turned upside down the civil and military affairs of the whole court One sentence lost half of the world What grandpa sang, I don't know.But I felt a very novel and bewildered emotion from my grandfather's singing. The "chicken" slowly turned up, very happy and very painful.I feel that I have grown up a lot suddenly, and my childhood seems to disappear on this gray river bank studded with weeds.Grandpa pushed my body with his arms and my soul with his singing, and kept moving forward. "Grandpa, what are you singing?" I caught the last note that Grandpa sang, and I asked in confusion until it became a feeling and disappeared on the top of the green grass.

"Sing it nonsense, who knows what it is..." Grandpa said. The overnight birds flew up from the grass and sang loudly in mid-air.The field became alive in an instant.More than a dozen larks were circling and singing over the meadow.The bald-tailed quail sang "moo-moo-" in the grass.Grandpa stopped the car and said, "Son, come down." "Is it there? Grandpa?" "Oh." Grandpa pushed the car to the grass, put it upright, took off his coat and covered the wheels, and led me to the depths of the meadow.Grandpa took me to look for the old thatch. The old thatch has less water and dries quickly, and the animals love to eat it.

Grandpa was carrying a big sickle, and I was carrying a small sickle, squatting down in front of a piece of thatch. "Look at how I cut." Grandpa showed me a demonstration.He didn't teach me seriously, and after a few gestures, he lowered his head and went to mow his grass.He cuts the lawn beautifully, and his movements are rhythmic.I tried to cut it a few times, but I was tired and bored, so I threw down the sickle and chased the birds to catch the grasshoppers.There are a lot of grasshoppers in the meadow. I have no success in mowing the grass, but I have a lot of success in catching grasshoppers.At noon, grandpa lit a fire, roasted the dry food, and cooked the grasshoppers I caught. The grasshoppers were full of seeds and smelled delicious.

Feeling my grandfather pushing me in the mist, I opened my eyes and got up to see that it was already mid-afternoon.After eating the grasshoppers, my grandfather set up a pergola for me to sneak in. I had a good night's sleep, and the hot wind mixed with the aroma of wild flowers in the meadow made me sweat all over my body.Grandpa had already bundled the grass into four bundles and carried them all on the embankment, and the cart was also pushed onto the embankment. "Xing'er, get up quickly, the weather is bad, you have to go quickly." Grandpa said to me. I don’t know when—in my sleep, the brown sky was covered with large black clouds, the sun had already reached the western half, and the light was orange-red, very short, as if it would be boring if it couldn’t hit the meadow. "Is it going to rain, Grandpa?" "Grey clouds dominate the rain, black clouds dominate the wind." I helped grandpa load the grass into the car, and the car was like a small mountain bag.Grandpa tied a thin rope to the crossbar in front of the car and said, "Xiaoju, it's time to stretch your lazy muscles and pull the car." Grandpa bent over to put on the loops and helped the car up. I tightened the drawstring, and the car wobbled forward.The embankment was high and the slope was steep, and I was a little dizzy. "Grandpa, you have to push it well, don't go into the river." "Pull it hard. Grandpa has pushed the car all his life, and he hasn't turned it over yet." I believe Grandpa is telling the truth.Grandpa has good legs, and everyone in the village calls him "Bengbeng". The embankment was twisted and twisted, lying on the ground like a big snake.We walk on the snake's back.That's when the green light shines on me and I look down at my knees and I can see my navel too.I occasionally turned my head and looked at grandpa through the gap between the straw bales.Grandpa stared at me tearfully, I quickly turned around and pulled the cart hard. Walking out of the road, the sun was completely covered by black clouds.There is no boundary between heaven and earth, and everything is silent. All kinds of birds fly close to the grass, but they dare not call.I suddenly felt an inexplicable fear, and looked back at my grandpa. His face was still numb, with no expression at all. The crop leaves under the embankment suddenly moved, but there was no sound.There were also smooth waves in the river, again without sound.There seems to be a sound that is not in the world from a very high and far place. Following this sound, the space between the sky and the earth turns purple, as well as the tangy smell of hay, the bitter smell of wild wormwood and the faint medicinal fragrance of wild chrysanthemums. I looked back at my grandfather, who was still numb, with no expression at all. My heart shrank very tightly, I dared not speak, and waited quietly.A long grasshopper jumped onto my belly, and stared at me with hatred from two multi-colored compound eyes.A hare the size of a fist was haunting the millet field under the embankment. "Grandpa!" I exclaimed. In front of us, a black, towering column appeared, and the column was spinning rapidly, approaching us.A dull, thunderous grunt followed. "Grandpa, what's that?" "Wind." Grandpa said lightly, "Pull the cart hard, kid."He bent over. I leaned forward, put my feet on the ground, and pulled the string tightly. We got into the wind.I couldn't hear any sound, I only felt two big slaps slapping my ear door vigorously, and my eardrum was buzzing.The wind held my stomach, as if to throw me out.The crops under the embankment fell down like soldiers who received an order.The water in the river flew up, and the red-winged carp flew in the air like lightning bolts. "Grandpa—!" I shouted desperately.I didn't even hear the yelling.The rope on the shoulders was still tightly stretched, which made me aware of Grandpa's existence.I am not afraid of grandpa, I put my body down as much as possible, lowered one arm, and the hand connected to the arm firmly grasped the grass mound by the roadside.I feel like I have no weight, as long as I let go, it will turn into wind and disappear. Grandpa asked me to pull the cart, which was originally a symbolic thing.The pull rope was very thin, and it snapped.I threw myself on the embankment.The wind pushed me over and over.Turning over halfway up the embankment, I finally stretched out my hands and grabbed the life-saving grass mound, and fixed myself.I looked up to see Grandpa and the car.The car was still standing on the embankment, and behind the car was Grandpa.Grandpa gripped the handlebar with both hands, his back tensed like a bow.His legs were nailed to the embankment like nails, and the muscles on his legs protruded like tree roots.The wind pulled out the semi-dry thatch of the car and raised it, making the car tremble. I grabbed the weeds and crawled towards Grandpa.I saw Grandpa's legs start to tremble, and sweat ran down his back. "Grandpa, throw away the car!" I shouted on the ground. Grandpa took a step back, the car suddenly rushed backwards, his feet became flustered, and he backed up again and again. "Grandpa!" I screamed, and hurried forward.The car pushed Grandpa backwards and slid past me.With an idea, I shrugged and jumped onto the car.With this strength, Grandpa lowered his waist again, and his legs were fixed again as if they had taken root.I lay on the car beam and looked at grandpa excitedly.Grandpa's face was still numb, with no expression at all. It was a strong wind that blew past.After the wind passed, there was a moment of silence between heaven and earth.The setting sun came out quietly, and the river was red and red, like cold molten iron flowing.Crops slowly straightened up.Grandpa maintains a vigorous posture like a bronze statue. I jumped out of the car and shouted: "Grandpa, the wind has passed!" Tears suddenly filled Grandpa's eyes.He put down the car slowly and straightened his waist with difficulty.I saw that his fingers were curled up and could not be straightened. "Grandpa, are you tired?" "Not tired, child." "It's really windy." "Well." The wind swept away all the grass on our car, no, there was still a grass caught in the mortise of the car beam.I held up the grass to my grandfather to see, it is an ordinary old thatch, I don't know if it is red or green. "Grandpa, there is only one grass left." I said a little dejectedly. "It's getting dark, let's go." Grandpa said, bending over and pushing the cart. I held the grass and followed Grandpa for a while, then threw it casually into the pale yellow twilight under the embankment. "When a person is old, he is like a child," said the mother. "I ran all the way to the Northeast Wa, and brought back such a grass, and said, 'When Xing'er comes back, let him recognize it. What kind of grass is it? You are very knowledgeable.' Can you recognize it?" Mother said and handed me the grass. I took this grass over and put it in the photo album with great care.The page with the grass was just bordered with a photo of my fiancée who is six years older than me.