The Cooked Wheat

On the way home at the weekend found wheat ripe, the left, the right, all yellow, the next village as well. Too suddenly, you are busy growing up, I am busy living, probably too busy, who has not paid attention to who, I missed your youth, you missed my company, the good thing is that you succeeded, something to do something, all can see the results of your high lift. I remember last October because of the rain, many fields of wheat is waiting until after the cold dew to sow, according to the festival is not late, if there is no rain farming is to end early.

　　Unlike when I was a child, the farming season was too long. Every morning, the day dawned and I was woken up by the sound of my parents' busy voices, feeding the cows, feeding the pigs, cooking, grinding the sickle, setting the car, and it was not long before I was urged to get up and everything was packed up to see a ray of golden sunlight in the east, the sun was red and poking its head out, and the old cows at home were in a similar state to me. In the morning, the dew was big and there were wild flowers on the roadside, so if you wore cloth shoes, you would get wet in a few steps and your feet would be soaked white. In the early morning, when the day was cool, I would choose to wear sandals, but the dew receded in the morning, and the disadvantages of sandals were even greater, as the stubble always stuck to my feet when I walked in the fields. I don't know which year planning into the current north-south direction, the head of the land towards the main road, easy access to more, the path was saved. It was convenient to hit the field at the north end of the south land, where it was close to home and the land was wide. The wheat is just yellowing, we have to clean up the wheat in the field location, did not pay attention to how to deal with the wheat cleaned up, only know that you can not cut with a sickle, you have to pull out by hand by the roots, it is estimated that either fed to cattle or dried and threshed, certainly not lost, few people remember what wheat means to farmers, even now farmers have forgotten that the cherished wheat. After clearing out the field, to mention the water evenly sprinkled on it, drying on half a day old cattle set on the stone roll a circle of compaction.

　　The field is ready to start cutting wheat, the time is planned just right. The same as before, get up early to prepare, be sure to bring water, as a child, there is a large glass bottle at home, some time ago also saw at home, just does not seem so big. The good conditions should bring watermelon, you can also wait to ride a bicycle with a cooler to buy popsicles and soda people over. At that time did not eat popsicles, seldom eat watermelon, see others eat also do not crave. Adults bent over and busy cutting wheat, loading the car, is hand-pushed frame car, loaded to a certain height to a person to climb up while stepping on the load, adults with a fork inserted a pile of wheat raised high into the car, stepping on the car while throwing up the wheat apportioned evenly while stepping on the solid, wait until the wheat loaded to about 2 meters high, up and down around with rope tied solid, stepping on the car people generally do not dare to jump directly down, one is too high easy to Sprained feet, there is also the fear of being stubble lacerations. I do not know how other children down, my father will use 2 forks, one inserted in a high place, one inserted in a slightly lower place, first step on the highest one, and then turn to a slightly lower position, the position of the high one and then reduce the height, so turn a two or three times on the safe landing. The fork is generally the man of the family, the pedal car is generally the family's children, standing in the car and look around, basically the same, there are bending down to cut wheat, there are loaded, loaded and pulled away, leaving children in the field to collect wheat.

　　For more than 30 years, the general location of several fields at home has not changed, and when one comes to the fields, one often thinks of childhood. A crop of wheat grew up with me in this field, and grew old with my parents in this field, tears filled my eyes, and I stopped writing.