It has been so hot for several days that the sun seems to be bursting. The surface temperature at noon is nearly 40 degrees. Staying at home is still like rain, which greatly reduces your appetite. When the curtains are drawn tightly, the light is much dimmer like a bird with folded wings. When the air conditioner is turned on, a cool air lingers in the room. My body is cold, but my heart is still irritable. My husband said that boiling a pot of mung bean soup is the best way to cool down and relieve the heat.
So, in a stainless steel pot, white water, green beans, simple, clean, no need to add, no need to mix, no need to render, sitting on a small fire, Clear grains, boiling.
It only takes about ten minutes for the mung beans to bloom and become soft, and put a few white rock sugar in the soup. If it's slightly cool, drink it. The clear, slightly sweet and fragrant mung bean soup is enough to dilute the growing stomach and soothe the hot and troubled heart.
Oddly enough, in the bean family, mung beans are the smallest in terms of size, and in terms of color, they are grayish green and slightly yellow. Neither evil nor generous, neither shocking nor showy, neither humble nor arrogant, neither elegant nor vulgar. But I just like it.
Remember, after the wheat harvest was over, maybe God was sympathizing with the farmers and gave just the right rain for summer planting. In order to collect moisture, early in the morning, my father carried a wok (a simple farm tool, like a simplified columbine), and I took mung bean seeds to the two acres of field where the wheat had been harvested.
That day, the sun was warm, the sky was blue, and the wind was slightly tipsy. In the humid air, there was the singing of cuckoos. In the fertile fields of Pingchou, the corn and sorghum sown in spring are high above the ground, full of youthful green, and the cut wheat stubble is low, quietly shining with golden light.
My father inserted the iron tip of the wok into the wheat back between the two wheat stalks, and I put the mung bean seeds in the columbine box on the wok. While holding the handle of the wok firmly with his two calloused hands, my father also had to grasp the strength, shake it constantly, and push forward hard. The furrow plowed should not be too deep or too shallow. , ensure that the bean seeds are evenly distributed about 2 inches deep. Compared to my father, I was much more relaxed. I carried the seed bag on my arm and followed in my father's footsteps. I just had to make sure there were seeds in the columbine box.
As time goes by, after several rounds, I feel that the sun is strong, the sky is white, the wind has lost its sound, the birdsong has turned into noise, and the green mist has lost my spirit. My relaxation turned into heaviness, sore arms, sleepy eyes, and weakness...
My father and I sat on the ground to rest. My father, who had always been silent and taciturn, changed his mind and started chatting with me about farming. My father said that among the many farm tasks, growing mung beans is considered the lightest task. People call growing mung beans "donkey rolling", which means that the growth period of mung beans is short. It only takes about a hundred or ten days for planting, budding, branching, flowering and fruiting. During the stage from seed emergence to budding, it is necessary to suppress them in time and press them as they are planted to reduce soil voids. After the seedlings emerge, check the seedlings in time to replenish the seedlings and plant them at the right time. Then, in time... I listened absentmindedly to my father's ramble on about the farming stuff he knew so well. Maybe my father noticed my disdain? He emphasized the tone of his speech. This kind of bean is the same as your teaching. Parents entrust their children to you, and you are responsible. The crops in the fields are the food they need to survive, but the quality of their children is their hope. People make mistakes for a while, and people make mistakes for a lifetime. Only if you are good to students and devote your efforts to students, will students be successful. Just like this mung bean, as long as it is managed properly, this crop will give people real rewards in autumn. I hope you are like this mung bean, who does not care about immediate profit, but only focuses on posthumous reputation...
My father's last few words made me stunned. My simple father has been dealing with dirt and garbage all his life. My father is able to combine the principles of farming and educating people, which really makes me admire him. The ten words "Don't care about immediate profit, only focus on posthumous reputation" are deeply reflected in my mind, and even shine on every inch of my future time.
My father was born in a peasant family and did not have a prominent life experience. He lost his father's love and mother's love since he was a child. He has no brothers, no sisters, no backers to rely on, and no power to rely on. With his kindness, simplicity, magnanimity and tolerance, he won the love of his fellow villagers. In the era of large collectives, he was elected as the director of the Poverty Association and became the spokesperson of farmers. In the years when food and clothing were scarce, every summer and autumn, the villagers trusted the scale in his hand and his responsibility. They recommended him to serve as the "field" director, responsible for the drying, storage and distribution of rations for the entire production team. . Whether it is a five-guarantee household that has lost the ability to work, a household with a source of wages, or a farmer with labor, the scale in the father's hand is unbiased, and the quality of the grain is neither thick nor thin. Some cunning and stubborn people who wanted to get an advantage had no choice but to give up when they saw that their father treated everyone equally. My father's fair and impartial, open and selfless character has an indescribable compatibility with the exquisite and crystal clear mung beans. He doesn't seek Wen Da with his giant arms reaching up to the sky, but he also has the magnanimity to protect him.
Not long after, the mung beans took root in the moist soil and sprouted. My father devoted himself to his mung bean field, caring for it carefully at every stage, checking and replenishing seedlings, thinning and stabilizing seedlings, cultivating and weeding, and applying fertilizer... In my father's heart, those mung bean seedlings should be the ones for which he devoted his heart and soul. Children!
As time goes by, the bean sprouts grow into beautiful young women. The endless farmland is full of greenery. Mung beans, roots, stems, and leaves grow vigorously, and a large number of flower pods appear. Looking at it, the lush bean sprouts are full of team spirit, like chicken claw-shaped flower pods growing into palms, with a swollen green belly, like a woman giving birth to multiple babies.
My father said that at this time, the beans have entered the seeding stage, which is the most intense period of competition for nutrients, water, and light. Watering during the podging stage is to ensure that the bean seedlings are strong and have more flowers and pods. Many, large pods, full grains.
A gust of wind blew, and the mung bean field seemed to be covered with green silk, with layers of ripples. In the field next to them, the corn and sorghum, which are as tall as a person, stand upright, turning a blind eye to the arrival of the wind. Gradually the wind picked up, and the mung bean seedlings crawled and nodded, like the rolling waves of the sea, thanking the wind for the coolness it brought them. The sorghum and corn, however, were still arrogant and elegant, only appearing and disappearing in the wind to show off their fruits.
There was a flash of lightning, a burst of thunder, a strong wind, and raindrops as big as copper coins fell. The father and brother who were collecting water ran back and shouted, "Hurry up and take shelter under the melon shed." The three of us had just run into the melon shed. The wind was like a wild horse running wild, and the rain was pouring from the sky like an overturned vat. The bean sprouts were laughing in the wind, laughing unobstructedly. They danced a green dance in the wind and rain, trying hard to suck in the sweet rain that nature brought to her. The sorghum and corn on one side were completely frightened by the strong wind and heavy rain. They started to cry, and some even lowered their heads and hugged themselves into balls...
About half an hour later, the wind stopped. Yes, the rain has stopped. The sun hangs firmly in the sky again. The bean sprouts are becoming more and more green, shining with water, the leaves are more lush, the stems are stronger, and the pods are fuller. The poor corn and sorghum were beaten by the wind and ravaged by the rain, with their eyes staring in horror. Many plants were swaying, and some tall ones even bent their waists and lowered their proud heads.
Looking at the scene after the storm, my father said, look at these mung beans, all of them are upright and energetic, and look at these big crops, they are gray and wilted. The taller it is, the easier it is to break. It’s true that the first rafters will die first. They forget that in their growth stage, it is impossible to always have gentle wind and drizzle, and always have bright sunshine. The same is true for people, there is no smooth sailing in life. To learn to experience setbacks, you must remember that people are indispensable for their pride, but they cannot have arrogance. Being arrogant is "stinking", but being low-key and humble is beautiful!
After the rain that day, there were only me, my younger brother and my father who had just graduated from college and were working, and the vibrant bean sprouts, and other things in the farmland... My younger brother and I looked at our father's profound The moment our eyes met, we understood what our father meant. Everyone in life is working hard and should overcome it. We must take good control of ourselves and be a down-to-earth person who is suitable for ourselves. This process is time and life.
Throughout the year, my father follows the footsteps of the seasons, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. The father who worked on the loess soil was frugal and self-disciplined. He did not use dry tobacco to relieve his tired body, nor used alcohol to anesthetize his hardworking heart. Occasionally it rains or snows, and God gives him a moment of leisure. My father, who has only attended school for four years, often holds a book in his hand, quietly reading and meditating, filling his knowledge with knowledge and enriching his life. accumulation. His life was very much like a mung bean, obeying nature, allowing wind and rain to corrode him, being grateful to the four seasons, and enjoying the joys of the world. My father has a calm and indifferent generosity, and a detached and selfless open-mindedness. Relying on his work experience and life insights, he educates and guides us.
The beautiful bean sprouts are dyed from green to thick yellow, and the green bean pods have also taken off their green clothes and put on calm and classic black clothes. The pods have become hard when they are pinched with their hands, and they snap with their teeth. Crisp sound, the mung beans are ripe.
Early in the morning, while there was dew, my father went to the fields to harvest. When I got home from get off work at noon, my father neatly stacked the harvested earth-yellow mung beans with their heads up and their feet down in the yard.
At noon, the sun warmly embraced the bean sprouts, and the bean sprouts kissed the sun to their heart's content. In the quiet courtyard, the mung bean pods could not hold back the joy of the harvest and were eager to repay their father for their hard work. They were like firecrackers setting off, crackling and splitting their mouths. They were also like a baby who was pregnant in ten months and couldn't wait to break free from the mother's body and tear apart. It's cracked and wants to see the light of day. The emerald green seeds of the beans that have just come out of the pod sparkle in the sun, like green agates, so beautiful and so attractive. All love is buried in fresh life, and all good things are gathered in heavy and full fruits.
What a plump autumn. The father took the beans, winnowed them, dried them, ground them into flour, and put them into the urn.
Mother, in the evening, we cooked mung bean porridge with millet and red dates. At noon, in addition to the staple food, we also cooked a pot of refreshing mung bean soup. In the morning, we cooked a pot of crisp, tender and delicious bean sprouts. vegetable. I also make my father's favorite "bean noodles and rice". The mother, who is skillful with her hands, demonstrates the character of Mung Bean, who "only pays attention to her posthumous reputation". She fully displays her cooking skills, making bean noodles, bean flour pancakes, mung bean cakes... We are rich in the delicacies of mung beans and immersed in the delicious taste of mung beans. .
That year, during my confinement, my delicate father crushed the fried mung beans and split walnut kernels into wedges, mixed them with brown sugar, and asked my mother to make porridge for me. Mother said that your father heard from the radio that mung beans are cold in nature. Eat fried mung beans during confinement, which removes the cold nature and is nutritious. Walnuts are good for intelligence and brown sugar is for blood replenishment. They go well together.
Maybe I drank the mung bean porridge that contained the taste of my father. My milk was sufficient and my son was fat and healthy. Xu has been eating mung bean nutritional and educational milk since he was a child. His son is smart, studious and well-rounded.
Heaven and earth have righteousness and love.
After that year, the mung bean life my father taught me alerted me. I learned to be calm, and I also learned to slow down and appreciate everything that time has given me. At work, whether teaching on a three-foot podium or performing ordinary service management, we must remain sober, humble and simple. In life, she cleans the kitchen, looks after her husband and raises her children, does laundry and cooks. In my free time, I spend time with my mother, reading, writing, and raising flowers, maintaining gratitude and a positive attitude.
Holding the cooked mung bean soup, a father dressed in coarse clothes and working in the fields appeared in front of his eyes. He held a large porcelain bowl in his hand and drank mung bean soup at home. A father holding a book appeared in his hand. , staring into the distance with firm eyes, unable to help but burst into tears... My father has left me peacefully, sleeping peacefully in the mung bean field he once cultivated.
The cell phone rang, and my son who was working far away in the south called me, Mom, have you eaten? have eaten. And you? After get off work, I just made a bowl of mung bean soup...
I am glad that my son has not forgotten the mung bean story I told him.
I sincerely hope that my son will make simple mung beans and boil his life into refreshing mung bean soup...