I also asked if you had cut the wheat. Captain sickle didn't let you use it then. They are all harvested wheat. Wheat roots are used for cooking, wheat straws are used for photographing houses, and wheat seedlings are used for feeding cows. The wheat bran was fed to the donkey. Do your best, you can earn 80 points a day by working all the time, but I can't.

I am a native farmer, of course, the memory of wheat harvest is indispensable!

1970, I just turned 7 in the first grade of primary school. I remember the wonderful time when I took a wheat leave that year and went to the production team to cut wheat with my elder sister. There are nine people in my family. Grandpa is old, his father works in the local department of the state, his eldest brother joins the army, a blind uncle lives with my family, and only the eldest sister earns work points in the production team. The big autumn wheat harvest is the most tiring time! My mother gave me a knife to dig wild vegetables, and asked me to follow my sister to the production team to cut wheat. My sister is holding grandpa's sharpened sickle. I wonder why she didn't give me a sickle. When they arrived in the field, they worked in groups of three, and the middle person took the lead in canceling the contract, twisting two locks of wheat and putting them in a few steps. The man on the left cut the wheat and put it on the contract. The person on the right is responsible for collecting the contract, tying up the wheat and standing it up.

My sister is a pioneer if she works fast. I tried my best to cut with a sickle in front of my elder sister, and I didn't have to cut two bundles of wheat in the end. The elder sister said, if you cut one, it will be easier for the elder sister. My elder sister affirmed my labor, and I also know that if I cut one, I can make my elder sister cut one less. When I went home for dinner at noon, my mother put the thousand-layer cake that had been put in for a year in a big pot to cook, and salted out the eggs and butter that I usually didn't want to eat. This is the most delicious perfect match in childhood memory at that time! It is also the only chance to get a solution when wheat is harvested!

So far, salted egg pie is still my favorite! It seems that I was a foodie when I was young!

I grew up in the countryside, and I have many memories of summer harvest and wheat harvest in my childhood, but I have little experience of cutting wheat, and I am not particularly impressed.

However, when I finished my wheat harvest independently, the memory of that year has impressed me so far.

That year, one day in July, I watched anxiously, my body and mind were immersed in the high temperature like fire, and I didn't know when there would be a trace of coolness.

It was some time after my second college entrance examination. I have been bored at home for more than half a month, and there are still a few acres of wheat ripe at home.

The pillar of the family was originally the second brother, but she was not at home, and Ersao was pregnant. I used to be just a helper, and suddenly I became a big laborer in my family.

Mai Huang is old and young. Of course, I went to the ground with a sickle. And of course, my old mother who didn't trust me.

This is no stranger to me, but it's just me this year. I am sweating like rain, venting my inner impatience. I spread my arms and danced with a sickle, experiencing the growth of my own affairs.

However, after only two days of ups and downs in the golden wheat wave, I was a little at a loss. It's not that my body can't stand it. As long as I stand in front of the sun, my nose will bleed in less than an hour.

I went to a nearby health clinic several times, but there was no good way. It would be better if I had a rest during the day.

Of course I know this, as long as I am at home during the day, nothing will happen. But there is no better medicine in hospitals, and it takes time to go to the city to see a doctor.

Growing up in the countryside, I don't want others to say that I am a person who is afraid of work. The distress about this matter is as embarrassing as I am afraid that the college entrance examination will be unfavorable. During that time, I was silent most of the time, just trying to avoid those heavy topics.

Yellow wheat waits for no man. I get up at four o'clock every morning, have breakfast and go to the wheat field at five o'clock.

Walking on the road in the field, it is still bright and the road is quiet. Under the starry sky, I strode to the wheat field with my mother by my side.

Sometimes I look up, the sky is so high, the sky is so blue and the stars are shining. At such moments, I often feel tall. But in my mother's eyes, I was still a child, telling me about my parents all the way, whether I listened or not.

In the early morning of July, it was cold and warm. Walking into the wheat field, silence is more in line with my heart. I bowed my head, bowed my waist and waved my sickle, marching rhythmically and mechanically.

I cut some wheat first, tied the wheat into a waist and put it on the ground, and then put the cut wheat on it. I feel that the weight can be tightened by hand and tied with knees, leaving a pile of wheat behind me. When cutting a row from one end of the ground to the other, pile three bundles of wheat into a small pile.

My old mother cuts wheat as fast as I do. A large area of golden wheat waves turned into rows of wheat piles. Slowly, the golden fields are fading.

In that endless golden field, the mother and son, wearing straw hats, waving sickles and tiptoeing forward, still appeared in my dream.

The days of physical exhaustion passed quickly, and I gradually talked to my mother more and more. I waited until all the wheat at home was harvested, so I pulled all the wheat into the wheat field to dry.

On a sunny day, I began to spread wheat in the fields, hire tractors to farm, and join hands with my relatives and neighbors to farm. You helped me, and I helped you. In the pleasant hard work, I harvested golden wheat waves, and golden wheat grains were pulled to the granary at home.

I was really touched by the harvest at that time. Labor and hard work can really build more roads. I don't want to cross the wooden bridge and jump the Longmen again. I just want to get stronger and stronger.

In fact, I still haven't forgotten it in my heart, and I always remember that dream in my heart. It's just a solid harvest, the heroism of being the master, and the blending of family, which really makes people stop thinking about the future.

Later, I left the rural life, and my parents died one after another. Occasionally, I go back to my hometown in the countryside during the wheat harvest season and see that everyone is busy harvesting wheat. I can't help but recall the wheat harvest scene that year.

The memory of that year's wheat harvest is a treasured version in my heart, which may have been blurred after several years, but it is still unforgettable every summer harvest.

When I was a child, I helped my grandfather in the countryside. My grandfather passed away. When I was a child, I often helped my aunt in Gaotang County in Liaocheng area to collect wheat. Holding a sickle in my right hand and a handful of wheat in my left hand to cut in the wheat field from beginning to end, it's really uncomfortable: backache, thirst, long journey to rest in the field, drinking cold boiled water in the magnetic altar, very comfortable! A few minutes later, I picked up the sickle and cut the wheat ... Everyone must know that the wet smell in the wheat field makes people uncomfortable.

I have been rolling in the fields since I was a child, and of course I can't forget the plot of cutting wheat. The people who can recall these things are mainly the post-50s and post-60s.

When I was in the third grade of primary school, the school went to support agriculture and helped the production team cut wheat for a day. In our head teacher's production team, Mr. Jin is the adopted daughter of his parents, his father is the captain of the production team, and his mother is diligent and agile, kind to people, and speaks with a loving face. There are elderly grandparents at home. They are also very kind and always smile.

I have forgotten how much wheat I cut, but many scenes of that day are still very clear. Before we left that morning, we lined up in the school playground. It seems that we are the only class. The sun has risen. Sunlight shines through the leaves of poplar trees on the yellow mud playground. The wind is blowing from the poplar, and it smells green.

We lined up and Mr. Jin gave a safety lecture. It seems that we can't go into the river without authorization, go up the mountain without authorization, fight at random, and fall behind on the way back and forth ... Although the sun was very strong that day, we didn't feel hot, and we sang songs while walking, including Three Disciplines and Eight Attentions, Small Bamboo Rafts in the Middle Reaches and Pumpkins in Jinggangshan. ...

Soon we arrived at our destination, and the captain's uncle (Mr. Kim's father) arranged a task for us. I remember it was a terrace. Between the upper terrace and the lower terrace, there is a ridge made of black gravel. We are only responsible for cutting, and several uncles put away the wheat we cut together, tied it up and picked it away. On the way, an uncle picked a handful of water for us to drink, saying it was well water. Because there were few bowls, we took turns using those bowls. At that time, there was no so-called hygiene.

At noon, we went to a big house for dinner. This is an old-fashioned big house with a thick wooden door. After entering the door is the first room, with several tables set. There are also tables in the main room on both sides of the main room. The food that day was very rich. I only remember two bowls of dishes. One is fried mung bean sprouts with egg skin and leeks (eggs are spread as thin as rough paper, cut as wide as leeks and as long as mung beans).

Later, I heard from my classmates that the big house used to belong to the landlord. After liberation, it was distributed to several farmers. The main room and one main room where we eat belong to Mr. Jin's family. It was in the kitchen of Miss Jin's house that I met her mother, grandfather and grandmother.

As far as I remember, I didn't feel tired that day. In a word, I had a very happy day. At that time, the country was very difficult, so it was good to have enough to eat. At noon, I also ate delicious food that was not easy to eat. After decades, I still miss the warmth and satisfaction.

When I was a child, my home was cold and I lacked food all the year round. Seven sisters and brothers, all raised by dad. Dad often earns some rice and wheat by doing short-term jobs to supplement his family. Although there are a few acres of thin fields, they are still sloping fields, and he can't harvest a few grains a year. Therefore, he often helps people in autumn and summer.

Especially in the wheat harvest season, Longkou grabs grain. Families with a lot of land at home often look for short-term help, but it is difficult to find them.

I was seven or eight years old, and every day I saw my father go out early, so I took a sickle and put a hemp rope around my waist and went down to help people cut wheat. I followed my father's ass curiously, too. Dad never pays to help people cut wheat. At the end of the morning, the host often asks his father to carry a bundle of wheat back. That bundle can also hit two or three liters, and you can also earn eighteen wheat in a season. I can't help you in this field. My master said, "son, pick up the left ear of wheat in the field." I tidy up the ears of wheat and wrap them in straw one by one. I can pick up several old geese (handfuls) a day. When I get home, my mother will praise me. I am elated and think it is fun to cut wheat, but the time is too short. " When we are 12 and 13 years old, we will really help adults. When the wheat harvest was over, dad went to help others. My brothers and sisters will go to the fields before dawn, and we will cut half an acre of land at dawn. My sister will have three rows each, and my brother and I will have one row each, but we still can't catch up with my sister. My hands are covered with blood bubbles, but my sister said I didn't hold the sickle tightly. At least I cut it in one day, and then I dragged the thresher to grind the wheat. I started to learn farm work when I was twelve or thirteen. Cutting wheat is really not a good job, never. Nowadays, teenagers are born in Fuwo and have never tasted that taste at all. That was the beginning of my hard work. Calf, start pulling the condom.

Before I was eighteen, I experienced the process of harvesting wheat by individuals and collectives (primary cooperatives, advanced cooperatives and people's communes). When the wheat is ripe, men, women and children are sent to the fields to cut the wheat with sickles, and the wheat thorns are unbearable. After cutting, transport it to the yard with a pole or cart, and separate the ears of wheat and straw manually. Bundling wheat straw is used to repair the house. After the ears of wheat are dried, they are repeatedly crushed with a shovel (pulled by people or cows) and then raised. Take the wheat back, a small part of wheat bran is added with soil and lime as a wall, and most of it is used as feed. During the exhibition, it was dusty and itchy all over. Although I have been away from home as a soldier for 6 1 year since I was eighteen, I still remember it vividly.

Children in northern rural areas should all have memories of childhood wheat harvest! Because, wheat is too common in the northern countryside!

Our childhood should be in the sixties and seventies of last century. At that time, the education policy said: "Our education policy should be educated, develop morally, intellectually and physically, and become a worker with socialist consciousness and culture! We must learn from industry and agriculture and criticize the bourgeoisie! " .

Therefore, it is very common for students to take part in agricultural labor. There is a saying called "work-study program". In the morning, they study at school, and in the afternoon, they will go to the production team to participate in field work. In autumn, they will move corn, plane potatoes, cut buckwheat and pull soybeans. In summer, cut and grind wheat!

There are some pleasures in hard work, such as catching crickets in the fields, hiding in the wheat fields, playing barefoot on the freshly ground wheat piles, endless childlike interest and endless joy! That's something that children can't enjoy now!

At that time, there was a slogan of "agricultural mechanization", but wheat was harvested manually, carried on the back, and pulled by livestock. Now, it is really agricultural mechanization. There are harvesters for cutting wheat and threshers for grinding flour, and children can hardly see the scene of cutting wheat!

Time goes by, childhood goes by, but that happy memory will always exist! When you are sitting alone under the tree, you also have dreams! I wonder if you have read this article?

I did it.