Digging for pine mushrooms

In our area, each family was given a large or small piece of scattered and sparse forest land from the brigade to supply their own firewood, so it was also called a firewood forest. My family was given a whole forest of firewood - a pine slope, but far away from the road, in a place that has been a mystery to me for as long as I can remember: Mafuying. My grandfather and father were happy with the fact that the pine slope was overgrown with acacia and thorn bushes, but not elm trees, which my brother and I liked. Pine slope in a very high terrain east of the gentle slope, half sun and half shade, to reach the slope to pass through a long valley, the valley is surprisingly quiet, when passing, can only hear their own breathing and the surrounding forest cuckoo's ethereal sound, but at that time always feel the sound of this call strange, and even a little afraid, at this time, the more you listen to their breathing more clear, the more nervous and anxious, the more to keep up with grandpa, hold tight Grandpa's big hand.

I went to the pine slope a few times with my grandfather, and he didn't bother to cut thicker pine branches every time, and he didn't even bother to pull down the half-drawn branches that were already half-hanging on the trees, for fear of hurting the trees, not to mention cutting them down directly. I was also padded with soft, fragrant thatch for fear that the firewood would be hard and poke and pinch me.

While pulling the branches, grandpa told me: "These pine trees were planted collectively in the village when your father was your age, so let them grow slowly! You're lucky to have a mouthful, it just rained a little yesterday, let's find some wild mountain treasures back later, such as pine slides, I'll give you meat stew to eat at night." I stopped and asked my grandfather, "Pine slips? What's that?" "We call it pine slider here, a very fresh mushroom, specializing in the humus at the bottom of the pine tree, a little rain, overnight, and then the sun comes out at noon, the mushroom umbrella unfolded, it is old, not good!" Grandpa smilingly stroking the five dragon beard should I. That was the first time I heard the name of pine slide, the first time the name of pine slide and mushrooms together, although the taste is sure: before wolf eaten, but only cared to eat, that is grandfather's father's wine dishes, do not want to eat, specifically left for me.

Grandpa led me to the top of the slope in the semi-shade under a few taller and thicker pine trees, huge pine tree head let me suddenly feel the fairy tale like the shady world, the birds chirping and insects chirping in all directions to make this shady world more apparent quiet. Light from several large pine trees, large and small, long and short, or round or square between the cracks of the tree brightly penetrate down, with the breeze shaking, strange blinding. When the light shimmers, just now the birds and insects also coincidentally stopped. The light from the edge of the canopy hung down evenly, as if it were a translucent natural barrier, enclosing only our grandchildren inside, and we were like two small and large dwarfs against the huge backdrop of the old pine tree. Next to the gnarled, powerful, interlocking roots, we stepped on a thick, brown carpet of pine needles, a foot of "creaking" sound accompanied by a step more crunchy dried pine branches and small towers of pine cones (we call it pine tumor). The grandchildren swooped down on their knees and gently peeled the tender mushrooms called "pine slides" with their hands.

Grandpa told me, "The ones with the umbrella closed and slightly open are more delicious." I followed my grandfather's side and found one, two, three ...... mushrooms in the black humus covered by the branches and leaves he had plucked and pulled. I put the little things that would make a stew at night in the basket next to me as lightly as I put the big red-covered notebook my dad had given me in my drawer. With my eyes on the little things and my voice shouting impatiently, I surprised Grandpa by telling him, "I've found lots and lots here! Grandpa, you're so fast at plucking, wait for me! I'll pick up this side first!" Grandpa looked back and said, "This is a loose slip, don't be in a hurry, take your time, it doesn't have legs, it can't run!"

Soon, with the efforts of the grandparents and grandchildren, the wicker baskets we brought were all small and pointy. Grandpa patted his hands up and down and said, "It's almost dark, we can eat for a while, let's go home, stew meat, and add some green pepper, you love to eat!" Grandpa put on his back the big bundle of firewood, and despite my understanding begging, together with the small bundle of firewood prepared for me before, put it on his back together with the big bundle, while putting the firewood on his shoulder and said to me: "You carry our loose slip on the line, don't spill it!" Grandpa walked ahead, I followed behind, carrying the pine slips steadily with one hand and holding the bundle of firewood upward with the other. Grandpa slowly turned back, smiling benevolently, I support more powerful, grandparents and grandchildren one after the other road is not flat, but the footsteps flat more firmly towards the "little orange lamp" dotted village ......