"Green bamboo hat, green hemp fiber, oblique wind and drizzle don't have to go home", "After dinner at dusk, don't take off hemp fiber and lie in the moonlight". Straw is made into hemp fiber, which blocks the wind and rain and warms the body. To make sandals, you can wear them in rain or shine, and it's easy to step on no matter how rough the thorns are. Most of the Red Army's Long March came by it. On rainy days, throw some straw on the muddy path to prevent pedestrians from slipping. The north wind roared and it was cold for nine days, which covered the vegetables with a layer of straw, which was a natural "cotton-padded coat". Houses made of straw are warm in winter and cool in summer (that is, they can't stand strong winds and heavy rains and need to be replaced with new straw frequently). Make rice cakes and rice cakes. Rice cakes store rice. Rice cakes can be used to hold rice, vegetables and feet. Vendors in the market always put a straw, fish and vegetables, one or two straws in front of them and walk from east to west with clear recipes. The straw man in old clothes stood upright in the wind and rain, defying the cold and heat, and faithfully guarding the crops. Dry the straw and put it on the bed. The fragrance and warmth make people fall asleep sweetly. Straw will absorb water, it will get wet after sleeping for a long time, and it can be resurfaced on sunny days, or it will be soft. Sleeping in the sun, sleeping in the sun, the grass is old, winter has passed, leaving behind memories.
Whenever I see the smoke curling in the countryside, I always think of my exhausted mother sitting in front of the fireplace. I quickly folded a third from the root of the straw, wrapped the rest and threw it into the fireplace with the straw handle. The baking fire reflected her dark face. I want my mother to cook cotton stalks and soybean stalks. People who make fires will soon make food better. Mom said, no, the rice in a hurry is not delicious, and the cooked fish is easy to pour (burn into slag). Be patient, the food is delicious. Seeing that I am hungry, my mother will put one or two sweet potatoes in the ashes with residual heat in the fireplace. My hunger and my mother's fatigue have inadvertently spread to the vast land in the smoke.
The day of twisting rope to weave (straw bag) is the most unforgettable. After dinner, my father punched some straws. After the straw was cooked, my mother washed the pots and pans, and we finished our homework. So, under the dim light of the bean lamp, a family of four, four stools and four straws began to rub the rope. While rubbing the rope, I spit on my palm and listened to my father telling an old story. Unconsciously, a straw rope appeared behind us. When the bundle of grass is coming to an end, our palms are sour and thirsty. Seeing that we were slow in rubbing the rope, mother let us rest first, and they continued to knit. There are faint blood stains on the palm of your hand during the day, and you should continue to rub the rope at night. A few years later, I renovated the house. Mom smiled and said, I don't want to rub the small rope anymore, my hands are bleeding. In fact, the blood stains on mom and dad's hands are bleeding, I know. Straw let us live in a tile house. To be exact, it was the hard work of our parents that made us live in the tile house.
"Don't underestimate straw, it's bones and muscles." These are grandma's words, and I still remember them. That's what grandma said when she mixed straw in the cooked yellow mud, tied it into bundles, put a clay urn and cooker on it, smeared it with mud, and dried it in the shade to make a natural and rough work of art. Weak straw sometimes has tenacity.
Straw is used by people and is closely related to people's lives until it is burned into grass ash and turned into a spring mud field. It is a treasure in the eyes of a real farmer like his father.
After threshing, the stalks are tied into handfuls, and they stand like soldiers, absorbing natural light and heat and letting the wind blow. After drying, my father tied them into bundles and piled them in the haystack. After laying a good foundation, you will have a height. My mother is below, holding bundles of straw and standing on the haystack with a fork in front of my father. When all the piles are piled up, finish them and sprinkle some straw to prevent rainwater from entering. Father stood on the haystack with a happy smile on his face. Mother stood under the haystack and looked at it happily, as if her heart had settled. Of course we will be happier, because we can hide and seek in the haystack, take a bundle of grass and get in, and the bundle of grass will be closed as the door. If you are wronged, hide in it, one hole and one world, and silence will soothe our tender hearts. That pile of hay is still a landscape in the countryside!
But now, straw is boring. In fact, the straw under the action of mechanization is no longer the straw before, but the weak, curly and scattered grass. The spread of cool colors in the fields makes people feel astringent. At one o'clock, the fire raged, and smoke filled the country, enveloped the city, got into our houses, and penetrated into our respiratory tract, which was suffocating.
I love civilization, which has turned many things into permanent beautiful memories of human beings, and kept them in books, images and deep in our hearts, but I hate those behaviors that defile beautiful memories.