Hometown is on the Weibei Plateau in Guanzhong, Shaanxi.
I have always dreamed of the small courtyard in my hometown recently: or in the summer afternoon, cicadas scream; or in the snowy night in winter, everything is quiet. I think it may be because I really miss home.
My family lives in a small village on the Weibei Plateau, the village is surrounded by lush greenery.
The old house is as big as mine, with mottled wooden doors and grassy walls, everything is deeply imprinted by the years.
There are three paulownia trees in the yard, which are as thick as my waist. Summer brings coolness. The yard is divided into a front yard and a back yard. There are many acacia trees in the back yard. In spring, the locust flowers bloom lively, attracting swarms of bees buzzing.
Every time I stand in front of the backyard, I think of a few naughty chickens raised by my mother. They often squat in rows on the low wall of the backyard to doze. When the wind blows, the flapping edges will jump and run away. The eggs were secretly laid elsewhere, such as in the grass or in the stacks of firewood, which made me often look for eggs everywhere.
In the past, my father planted a peach tree and plum tree in the yard. Every spring the flowers bloomed beautifully, but they never produced fruit. My father said that it was flashy, so he chopped down and burned the wood. In the early years, there were three vines in the yard, and my father set up a stand. On the evening of Tanabata, I hid under the grape rack and secretly listened to the Cowherd and Weaver Girl whispering.
In the summer vacation, the grapes will bear fruit. When you wake up every day, the first thing is to go under the grape rack, squeeze this one, touch the bunch to see if the grapes are soft. When one day, through the sun, the grapes become exquisite and translucent, and they are ripe. Eat one, sweet to the bottom of my heart. My sister used scissors to gently cut the bunches. I was holding the bag underneath and eating one from time to time. The grapes were to be served on the 15th of August.
I remember the Mid-Autumn Festival offering table fruits and so on. They were all grown at home, such as grapes, apples, peanuts, etc. The most impressive thing was that one year when peanuts were planted at home, after they were planed out, the mud and sand were cleaned. There was only a small basin. Stir-fried in an iron pan, it’s all dark, but it’s very delicious. It has a delicate fragrance. It is the best peanut I have eaten so far.
In the summer night, it was extremely sultry, pulling a mat to sleep in the yard, watching the bright stars in the dark night sky, listening to father hula la la shaking the fan, and fell asleep for a while. In the middle of the night, you have to go to the house to sleep. In the second half of the night, it is very cold. There will be a difference in temperature between morning and evening in muddy places, unlike the hot city that is hot all day long.
It’s summer vacation and relax both physically and mentally.
After lunch every day, after reading a book for a while, I fell asleep with a longer than a long cicada cries. When I woke up, the courtyard quietly got up and turned around. There was no one in the house of my parents. I felt a little panicked. When I walked out of the house, I saw three or five people sitting in front of the neighbor’s door. People are at ease when they pull home. It took many years to understand what it was like at that time. There is a home with a mother.
I remember when my father taught me how to write calligraphy with a brush. Every afternoon, I took a broken bowl, filled it with water, and dripped a few drops of ink. In the compliment, the words gradually became decent, but unfortunately, I was busy studying later, so I threw it aside.
The autumn yard is a portrayal of a bumper harvest: under the eaves are strings of fiery red peppers, and the trunks are covered with yellow corn, and there are always many sparrows pecking at in the afternoon. The sky began to become blue and high, and a few white clouds floated leisurely . In autumn, the ingredients are rich, such as sweet potatoes, corn, vinegar powder, persimmons, etc. The meals my mother cooks every day make me feel round and sweet. But now I don’t think there is a big difference in what I eat.
In the winter night in the country, everything is asleep, the moonlight shines brightly, and occasionally there is a dog bark or two. When I couldn’t sleep, I would get up and walk around in the yard, moon shadows on the ground whirling, leaves swaying lightly in the night breeze, but there was no sound. Listening to the snoring of my parents, my heart was quiet. In the snowy night, it was surprisingly quiet, and you could hear the sound of falling snowflakes. A dry tree branch could not bear the weight of the snow, and it creaked and broke, sounding thrilling. Pushing the door in the morning, I was surprised, a beautiful and unreal world, put on my gloves, and began to sweep the snow. I used to be a hard-working child.
I have been away from my hometown for many years, and my parents have moved away from my hometown. The small uninhabited courtyard is getting dilapidated day by day. Pushing open the door, there is a musty smell, but the furnishings in the home have not changed. There are my childhood memories and growth marks that make me dream.