On the morning of late autumn, I came back from morning exercise and passed by the farmer's market. The potatoes in my hometown have piled up into hills in the market. These chubby potatoes, in just a few months, are covered with white rustling starch, and sunlight and nutrients are transported to the body through their branches and leaves. When the branches and leaves fall to the ground, their roots are already a nest of high-spirited and beloved potatoes. These potatoes are lying in the soft soil. They must be praying for people to dig them out as delicious food. Buy it home, that is, boil it with clear water, take a bite, and immediately bite out the macro and burning sunshine of the earth.

I lived in the mountains since I was a child, and potatoes accompanied me through my youth and youth.

At that time, adults cultivated private plots on mountains, rivers or roadsides. Although these plots are small and narrow, they are not barren. In the mountain nest where I live, the soil is quite fertile. When I walk into the field, black mud can be squeezed out from my toes. People are used to planting some potatoes in such a small plot, and after autumn, a small plot can plan to return several sacks of harvest. The temperature in mountainous areas is different from that in plains, where the sun is poisonous and it is very hot during the day. At night, when the sun shines on the mountain, the temperature suddenly drops, and people can read a word-cool. This climate is suitable for the growth of potatoes, which absorb nutrients from the sun during the day and fully deposit at night. Potatoes planted in this environment are sandy, hungry and nutritious. It's different from the sweet potato grown in the south. It is only sweet but full of water, but it takes a lot of time to pee, and it is hungry and full of acid water.

Thanks to the kindness of potatoes in my hometown, people in the mountains are really not so hungry. It's really a man's back, round and stupid. Therefore, there is no femininity and cunning of the city people. Therefore, most people in the city call us mountain guns.

Potatoes in my hometown have raised my hometown people. Especially in the famine years, potatoes are the lifeblood of people in forest areas. At that time, almost every family did not have enough food. There are many boys in my family, and the food is even tighter. Before the end of the month, the food was exhausted and my mother's eyes were full of melancholy. This was the common helplessness and heaviness in the hearts of many people at that time. It is always inappropriate to make a living by borrowing money. My mother followed the example of the courageous people in the town and led us to plant two small plots of land in the most inconspicuous place on the hillside, secretly planting potatoes (in that era when socialist grass was better than capitalist seedlings, private plots were not allowed). We were as busy as underground workers for a spring and summer, and in autumn, my family really recycled several sacks of potatoes. With potatoes to make up for the lack of food rations, my mother was much healthier when she was lying on the heatable adobe sleeping platform.

Since then, potatoes have become a must-have food on my table, and the whole family has been spared the bitter taste of eating dried cabbage leaves when there is no food to eat. In order to prevent our brothers from getting bored when there is no food at the end of the month, my mother began to get food at the beginning of the month and ate potatoes every once in a while. The family sat on the kang, although it was not delicious, but they still ate with relish. In those days, it was the last word to have enough to eat. If you don't starve, you will become Amitabha. Fried potato shreds, stewed potato pieces, stewed potatoes, baked potato cakes, etc. , are all renovated. Potatoes in my hometown not only didn't spoil my stomach, but deepened my distant feelings for potatoes. Sometimes, my mother peels potatoes, slices them with a knife and sticks them around the rice cooker. Soon, the room was full of fragrance. When my mother brought potato chips with brown rice and crispy rice to the table, our two brothers immediately salivated.

The most unforgettable thing is baked potatoes. In winter, the wind bullies the snow. On the day of winter vacation "Cat Winter", my brother and I put the uniform "pockmarked" potatoes on the lid of our own hot stove and fastened them with a broken pot. We crouched aside and waited. The fire in the stove is burning brightly. After a long time, we baked an attractive pot of potatoes and a room full of fragrance, which made our faces radiant. That baked potato smells good! Hot potatoes were thrown around in our hands and kept flapping back and forth. Huang Chengcheng and delicious potatoes are eating our cheeks with lingering fragrance.

In the early days, walking potatoes was a lively scenery in the town. It is better to dig for the production team than to slip potatoes. In the autumn of the previous year, the production team began to collect potatoes. When people heard about it, they flocked to the ground and waited for the instructions of the production team leader. Before the last sack of potatoes was loaded into the car, men, women and children rushed to the place where they thought the potatoes had not been cleaned. They picked up the tooth planer and hoped that they could dig out a big round potato with one tooth. Slipping potatoes is purely manual work. Sometimes I sweat profusely and turn over a large piece of land but get nothing. I'm so tired, my eyes are shining in the field. I hope I can't treat all the soil as potatoes. When I was about to be disappointed, I turned around to change places, so I raised my teeth bored and planed gently. Suddenly, a huge and complete potato magically jumped in front of you, which immediately aroused the "envy" of my companion and narrowed the distance with you. My teeth flew, and accidentally, my teeth almost scratched the ass of the person in front.

In fact, it is very difficult to hide a potato in a big potato. First, there was a shortage of food in that era, and the production team regarded potatoes as treasures; Secondly, because people worked hard at that time, they were not as eccentric as people now. If it were now, people would not dig a hole to bury potatoes and transport them home at night. Therefore, most of the potatoes that people slip away are too small to make a profit, or "half melons" scratched by members' teeth. When they go home, they can only eat it temporarily, not for a long time. At that time, people were poor and "half melon" was also a good thing. It is also a kind of luck to secretly bring back half a basket of "half melons" at noon. These potatoes are enough for the whole family to eat for a day.

I remember when I was about eleven years old, it was also the season of dry grass in autumn. I went to slide potatoes with several partners, and I skated several fields in a row, with little gain. I don't know how many times those plots have been turned over by adults. When I walked back reluctantly, I passed a potato field that had been harvested, but there were still many potatoes in the middle of the field that were not transported back to the production team. There is a thick cold blanket on the potato pile, and there is a potato shack not far away. There is no one in it. I became guilty in order not to go home empty-handed. I said: there is no one around anyway. Put some potatoes home and say they are smooth potatoes. Several partners were surprised. It's easier said than done. I want to go forward, but my heel seems to have a root and I can't move. Finally, I tried my best to suck milk and took the lead in shaking my feet and walking towards the potato pile.

In fact, some small and undesirable things can be obtained with a bow, but I don't know that this bow needs a price to compensate. My friends and I really bowed that day and quickly picked up potatoes from the bag. An old man came out of the grass with trousers in his hand. I guess he must have gone to the grass to relieve himself. He saw us stealing potatoes and rushed out of the grass. In the panic, we ran away in a hurry. The old man chased us while wearing pants. When we reached the head, we were shocked. A wide river lies in front of us. We are really stupid. Although the river is only knee deep, there is a thin layer of ice on it, and the old man behind us pushes us like an evil God.

A stream of blood surged up, and I was the first to rush into the river, breaking the thin ice with two teeth and crossing the river. When we reached the other side and put down our luggage and sat on the beach, our legs became pale and bloodless, and our feet walked on the stones without any pain. The old man is still standing on the other side talking big, but he has no courage to take off his shoes and cross the river. Half an hour later, we stood up and hobbled home with half a bag of potatoes that we will never forget.

That night, I lay on the hot kang, my knees still swishing in the cool wind. ......

Many years later, I grew up, took part in the work, and tried to be "Confucius and Mencius" in front of others, but I couldn't hide the "smallness" in my arms. Potatoes in my hometown! You grew up with me and taught me how to be a man. Nowadays, whenever it rains on cloudy days, my old cold legs will ache. At this time, I will think of that half bag of potatoes, which seems to tell me that you should study better in the future!