Prose weekend date

Last weekend, my friends in the city called me to meet at Xinjie, thinking that I had not left home after the Spring Festival, so I readily promised and went to the appointment.

I was supposed to drive there. My friend said it's rare to get together, and I'm sure I'll have a few drinks at noon to sweep away the pleasure. You are near the provincial highway, so it is convenient to get a ride. Sit at Matoushan and get off. I'll drive you there.

Get up early in the morning and start by bus. My friend said I was going to climb the mountain, so I left with a kettle on my back. The bus arrives at Matoushan at 8: 40, which is still early. I called my friend and walked casually north along the provincial road S2 18.

Xinjie is an ancient place name. It used to be a township organization. Twenty years ago, the organization was streamlined, and Xinjie Township was merged and split into two. The eastern part was transferred to Banqiaodian Town, and the western part was merged into Nanying Office, a place where General Zhang died, which really added a lot of glory to the newly-built Nanying Office.

There are many buildings on both sides of the provincial road, which are deserted because of disrepair. After walking for an hour, on a steep slope, an off-road vehicle stopped beside me. I looked back and saw that it was Chairman Cai's car. A few minutes later, I arrived at my destination.

Chu is a middle-aged man who is as elegant as his nickname. He set up a professional cooperative to plant and process sweet potatoes. As a teacher, you can see his intelligence and wisdom from his slightly bald hair. Although I met him for the first time, I felt his sincerity and enthusiasm.

Chu took a group of eight of us to climb the mountain that looks a bit like a head. In early spring and February, the weather is still cold. The trees on the mountain are sparse, and the dry weeds are still hibernating. Occasionally see miscellaneous irrigation, but also bare branches. Friends just want to feel the fun of climbing mountains and don't care about the scenery on them. In fact, the scenery is the state of mind. A person's joys and sorrows, joys and sorrows, the same scenery, but have different feelings.

Climbing to the top of the mountain, looking eastward, the second reservoir of Heying River is rippling in blue waves, the sky in the distance is foggy, and the provincial road under the mountain is like a jade belt, winding and drifting to the end of the field of vision. Look around, our party.

Eight people, four people halfway up the mountain returned for some reason, and four people climbed to the top of the mountain. Climbing high and looking far makes people fear heaven and earth. This suddenly reminds me of the poem "Youzhou Tower" by Chen Ziang, a poet in the Tang Dynasty:

Where were those lost times before me? ,

Behind me, where is the next generation? .

I think of heaven and earth, with no limit and no end.

I was alone, and my tears fell.

Under the only two holly trees on the top of the mountain, the four of us took a group photo as a souvenir. Look at the time, it's past eleven o'clock at noon, so I hurried down the mountain.

Back to the headquarters of Chuxiang Professional Cooperative, my wife cooked two tables at home. It turned out that his classmates came to his house for a party, and seven of us uninvited guests sat at two tables and cooked his wife's cooking, hot pot salad and baked sweet potatoes. It's like a Manchu-Chinese banquet. Finally, he took out an altar of sorghum brewed by himself. It is said that it has been three years, and the altar is full of fragrance. Chu ink is fragrant and generous, and the wine glasses are all four or two. People who drink white wine sit together and each person pours a full glass.

Master Cai, a writer's association, had to drink yogurt with beautiful women because he had to drive. Brother Fei looked at the three beautiful girls around the master, and his heart was full of unspeakable envy and hatred!

During the dinner, the literary friends were filled with emotion! There is a saying that today's literati are in decline. Take out a book. It will cost 40 thousand yuan. Who can afford it? Now he has money to publish a book, but he can't. The person who wrote this book has no money to publish it. When I came back, my friend said that he couldn't see me waiting for the bus on the roadside, so he used his car to send me back, and I was moved when I walked.

Brief introduction of the author

Yao Qilong is a farmer who lives in Maji Village, Liushui Town, Yicheng City, Hubei Province. Party member, a junior college graduate, has been a village official for 31 years. Loves literature, including poems, essays, short stories and documentary literary works scattered in newspapers, magazines, micro-journals and other media. Now he is a member of Xiangyang Folk Writers and Artists Association.