Du Binqiang's Works: Cutting Wheat

Wheat is yellow, get up early and harvest quickly. Harvesting wheat is the most important thing for parents in a year and can't be delayed. Mom is cooking quickly in the kitchen, and the sound of tinkling on the chopping board; The sound of my father carrying water from the village entrance, pouring well water into the water tank and sharpening the sickle blade on the grindstone is particularly loud in the empty summer morning. Often this time is the most sleepy time for me. My mother is an impatient loud voice. I couldn't stand sleeping in in such a yellow day, so I yelled at me several times in the kitchen and lost my patience. I went into the room and dragged me out of bed.

I rubbed my awake eyes, muttered to myself, and felt a lot of complaints in my heart. Although I don't want to get up, I know in my heart that I dare not be lazy in the weather of harvesting yellow wheat. Slowly, I ate a few mouthfuls of rice and soup, took the kettle filled by my mother, and went to my responsible field with my parents at dawn in summer to start a day's work.

Mai Huang's weather in the morning, the air is fresh, and I feel a little cold in my light clothes. There is no other sideline in the family, and more than ten acres of wheat is the main livelihood of the family. Most of the wheat fields at home are on the slopes, and along the dirt roads in the mountains, I came to the wheat fields in running all the way soon.

At this time, the sky began to dawn, and the east was a fish-belly white. Golden wheat fields, Zhong Er bowed his head. When the wind blows, the mature wheat rustles. Looking from a distance, the golden wheat waves are one after another, which is really beautiful. Mother's work is as hot and brittle as her temper, and soon she is working in the fields. Compared with mother, father is obviously a slow-witted person. He took his time and walked slowly around the venue, as if enjoying a beautiful picture scroll. At this point, the mother didn't like her father and scolded him while working. My father was not annoyed. No matter what my mother said and how harsh her tone was, he stood by the wheat field and was as affectionate as a poet. After enjoying it, my father began to show his true colors as a good wheat cutter. He rolled up his sleeves, raised his sickle and tied his horse. Wherever the sickle went, the wheat fell into his arms. Before long, the wheat cut by my father has caught up with or surpassed that cut by my mother.

Cutting wheat is not only a hard job, but also a technical job. More than ten acres of wheat at home must be pulled from mom and dad. They will not let a grain of wheat fall, nor will they be wronged, just like raising their own children. When cutting wheat every year, mom and dad are tanned and can lose a layer of skin. After cutting wheat for a long time, the cat's waist was pricked and it was already sleepy. She didn't dare to take more rest, straightened up a little, paused, and quickly continued harvesting with a sickle. Although my mother is a good wheat cutter, compared with my father, her advantage is good endurance and little rest. The advantage of father's wheat cutting is the perfect combination of strength and skill. I saw him carrying a few sickles, and the ears of wheat fell neatly in his father's broad arms like obedient children. The stubble behind my father is as clean as a knife, and there is not a scattered ear of wheat on the ground.

Cutting wheat is a technical job, which depends not only on whether he has dropped ears, but also on the two processes of beating waist and binding wheat. The so-called waist-beating is a term used by rural people when cutting wheat. The word "waist" is very vivid, that is, cut a handful of wheat, arrange the ears of wheat, then divide them into two halves, cross them a few times, and the "waist" of wheat is ready. This is definitely a stunt. A few years ago, I learned to cut wheat from my parents, but I never learned. Every time I hit my waist, it's always the other way around. A sheaf of cut wheat will scatter. Several sickles went down and cut a big bundle of wheat. Put the cut wheat on your waist and tie it up. Compared with hitting the waist, the technical requirements of Zhamai are more stringent, which requires both strength and skill. My father is definitely a top player in this technology. I saw his hands clasping the twisted waist at both ends, his knees pressing on the wheat, and his hands exerting force in the opposite direction at the same time. When his strength was exhausted, his father twisted his waist three times and two times, and the scattered wheat was tied. The wheat tied by my father looks geometric and strong, so don't worry about scattering. In the years when I harvested wheat, I humbly asked my father for advice, and my father showed it to me seriously, but I haven't mastered this skill until now, which is a great regret in my heart.

When the wheat harvest is in full swing, parents seldom talk to each other. They don't care if I cut the wheat, as long as I don't idle in the fields. Of course, I am young and sensible, willing to learn to cut wheat, dreaming of becoming a good worker like my parents and gaining their affirmation in my work. Now think about it, this is also the happiness and happiness of rural children growing up.

It's cool to cut wheat in the morning, but it's not very efficient. The sun is rising high and getting hotter. My parents were sweating on their foreheads and the clothes on their backs were wet. I am afraid of the sun, so I can't stay any longer. I sat on the wheat sheaves lying on the ground, drinking only water and having no spirit at all. Finally, my mother couldn't stand it anymore, scolded me a few words and sent me back to boil water to cook.

I can't wait to go home, running all the way. While nobody was in charge, I slipped under the apricot tree behind the village and had a delicious apricot meal. Children in rural areas cook in big cities, and I am no exception. Boil water, boil eggs, cut onions and cucumbers, and mix well until your parents get home.

It's almost ten o'clock, and the sun outside is like a brazier. Mom and dad haven't come back yet, so I can't help turning on the TV. While I was watching excitedly, my mother yelled and began to scold me, thinking that I would stay in the house and have a good time. How dare I talk back? I quickly turned off the TV and went to bring dinner to my parents. Mother looked extremely tired, and her face tanned by the sun was covered with sweat stains. My father felt better, took off his straw hat, sharpened the blade of his sickle, chatted with his mother and planned the recent summer harvest at home.

After dinner, my parents didn't rest long, took a sickle and continued to cut wheat in the field. Taking advantage of the good weather, grab more than ten acres of wheat in the land cut. When it rains, the wheat will suffer and the achievements of the family will be discounted. I often hear my father say that harvesting wheat should take advantage of the good sun. The stronger the sunshine, the higher the efficiency of wheat cutting. The sun was poisonous at noon, and my father knew that I couldn't stand the sun, so he asked me to go home and feed the cows. My mother looked at the sun and said nothing. She acquiesced that I was at home.

In my memory, the sun that harvests wheat every summer is always so fierce, like a fire in the sky. Stay in the mud house at home, comfortable and cool. It doesn't take much to feed the cows. But I lay on the kang, thinking about my parents cutting wheat in the sun. I couldn't sit still, so I poured cold water on it and went straight to the wheat field.

Harvesting wheat in summer is a race against time. Almost all the laborers in the village are sweating under the scorching sun and rushing to cut wheat in the wheat field. In such an era when Longkou grabs food, no matter who it is, it will never dare to be lazy. At noon, the fields in the village are busy. When I came to the field, I saw my parents wearing straw hats and towels around their necks, sweating like rain in the sound of sickle cutting wheat. Behind them, there are bundles of wheat crawling in the field. From a distance, they are like lovely children sleeping in the sun. Cutting wheat at noon, although sweating, but my parents are in a good mood. They were chatting and cutting wheat, and their mother's hearty laughter spread far with the hot air. Parents' good mood comes not only from the wheat bags cut behind them, but also from the sense of fulfillment and accomplishment in labor.

After half a day, I was really tired and it was too hot in the sun. At noon, my parents went home steaming. When I got home, my father cleaned up the cowshed and did the broken work. My mother had a rest, washed her face and started cooking. My mother cooked this meal very carefully and was not careless at all. Cutting wheat is hard work and consumes a lot of physical strength. I can replenish my physical strength when I am full. I am sensible, too. I help my mother cook the pot and fill it with boiling water. After my father grinds the blade of the sickle, my mother also cooks. During the summer harvest, parents eat more than usual. Father couldn't help it, so he ate noodles in a big porcelain bowl, put enough oil and pungent seeds, squatted outside in the shade, and chatted with his neighbors while eating.

After a while, my mother cleaned up the house, shouted at my father who was chatting with his neighbors outside, and hurried to cut wheat. It's hot in the afternoon, but it's windy. Cutting wheat is also a pleasure. The whole afternoon, looking at the wheat bag lying on the ground, the scene is very spectacular.

At night, when night falls, my mother leaves the wheat field, and she will go to the alfalfa field to mow the cows at home. Father still has an important job to do, that is, tying the harvested wheat together, which is a skilled farm work. In the words of his hometown, it is to pile wheat. The harvest weather is changeable and the rain will come. Stacking wheat is an effective way to prevent the cut wheat from getting wet by rain. In the twilight, I picked up bundles of wheat from the ground, and my father magically piled them up like a magician. The piled wheat pile is durable and breathable, and it can also prevent the ears of wheat from getting wet in rainy days. Soon, the wheat bundles scattered in the ground suddenly turned into several handsome wheat piles.

It was already dark when my parents came home. They ate something, drank something, sat in the yard and had a good rest in the evening breeze. When the whole body cooled down, my father began to sharpen the sickle edge on the grindstone again, ready to take advantage of the moonlight and cut another piece of wheat with my mother.

I slept in a daze, and when I woke up, I heard my parents coming back from the fields and walking around the yard. At this time, the summer night is refreshing, the sky is full of stars, the night is like water, and the night in the country is so beautiful and quiet!