The winding country road stretches freely, and in a corner of the field, you can vaguely distinguish your mother's footprints. At the end of the ridge, mother's figure fluctuates between terraces. In the storm, my mother's faltering footsteps, she stepped on the uneven furrow all her life, printing a string of lonely sorrows; That pair of gullies covered with calluses and cracks are dyed dark green, emitting the fragrance of earth; That weather-beaten face is full of vicissitudes, and the suffering is as heavy as lead. Mother's smile is buried in the field, emitting a vibrant new green, which is her hope on the land. Every day, she plunges into the farmland and carefully takes care of more than ten acres of land, just like waiting on a woman.
In my childhood memory, I can always see my mother working in the fields. When the chilly mountain breeze in spring blew through vilen, and the season came when hay desperately broke through the dark land, my mother began to plan for her more than ten acres of land in an orderly way. My mother didn't learn and didn't know the profound knowledge of crop rotation planting, but based on years of experience, she summarized: "Crop rotation planting can ensure the balanced utilization of soil nutrients, which is better. When the gentle spring breeze blows away the cracked land over and over again, the drizzle gently beats the soil, and the wet soil exudes fragrance. My mother begins to sow crops barefoot. Then, a bleak picture flashed before my eyes: "The spring breeze blew through the field villa, the willow branches on the roadside trembled in the wind, and the wind blew up the rubble all over the sky, flying everywhere, and my mother's white hair fluttered with the wind." "Soft waist sometimes bends and sometimes stands upright. Holding a bamboo basket with one arm, picking up superior seeds with dexterous fingers, and spreading fertilizer with the other hand. In the father's deep voice and high voice, the cow kept moving forward and the mother bent forward. The plough tried hard to drill into the soil, and the soil slipped and turned over. The newly cultivated soil is Huang Cancan's, shiny and shiny, and mother's feet are like two jumping carp. They quickly covered the seeds with plowed soil, and the spring rain was as expensive as oil, sowing the mother's hope and expecting the seeds to be delivered smoothly (no need to replenish seedlings). The seedlings in the field were green. As fine as a feather, the rain fell all over the ground, weaving bitterness all over the sky, as if knowing my mother's mind, infiltrating into the fields little by little, quietly moistening everything, and infiltrating my heart at the same time. Shallow pain was pulled to the fundus, tears shook my vision and soaked my memories, and my thoughts wandered in the hazy spring rain. I feel that I am back to my childhood, and a map of my hometown appears in my mind:' A barren land.
In the season of Fang Fei, the fields are bright. Fragrant and delicate wildflowers show the beauty of colorful colors; Clear oil seedlings are brewed in humid air, emitting intoxicating fragrance; On the path in the field, there are many flowers, white and black, reddish and dark green, picturesque, full of spring and vitality. Mother walked into the field against the morning fog, stepping on the fragrance of grass and stroking the seedlings carefully with warm big hands. Soft green branches nodded frequently in the breeze, shaking Ye Er's bright smile in the sun. Mother waved her sharp iron hoe and stuck the soil around the seedlings as fine as sand, uprooting weeds one by one and kicking out the rubble one by one. Mother patiently built, the land is like a continuous carpet, flat and thick, and when she stepped on it, fluffy and soft grass seedlings fell asleep sweetly in a comfortable environment and grew healthily and happily, and her heart was waiting for another scene more prosperous than spring.
Tired mother also likes to sit alone in the field, enjoying the ever-changing clouds, and her heart is full of infinite warmth and romance. The clouds wandered carelessly, and my mother's heart was involved in a series of reverie. Clouds broaden her mind, the time she puts in her heart, her lonely journey, the precipitation of life, and the embellishment of life. She reproduced the truest, most beautiful and purest picture with her already barren emotion. Foggy morning, wet road, dew soaked clothes, busy figure shuttling between home and field, which constitutes the whole of life. In the hurried footsteps, under the fatigue of mechanical life, I am eager to find a way to a better life. Under the blue sky, the mother who waved the iron rake skillfully chewed the soil in the field, hummed happily, provoked the birds in the forest, sang together, sang the helplessness of life, sang the vicissitudes of life, and enjoyed the charm of pastoral scenery with her ears. In the wilderness of vast expanse, my mother plowed the land, worked hard, sweated heartily, and cultivated the land carefully. The fertile land was as rich as a married bride. Day after day, year after year, I unloaded all the burdens, no longer trapped in the secular world, walked into the land with a calm mood, and was destined to live alone with the land, dancing the rhythm of life in the field with strong arms, creating a happy life with hardworking and intelligent hands, and writing a different life.
In midsummer, the fields are filled with the splendor of summer, and a lush pastoral area covers a colorful world under the bright red sunset. The seedlings in the field are lush, the green branches and leaves are bathed by summer rain, and the head is enjoying the caress of the sun and growing leisurely. The mountain flowers are brilliant and the grass is lush, giving off a strange fragrance and showing their beautiful posture to the earth. In the dense forest, there are countless treasures, wood and herbs, rare birds and animals. As long as you are good at digging, you will never go back to the mountains. In the lush mountains, there are lush vegetation, all kinds of nameless wild precious medicinal materials, which suck the breath of heaven and earth and gather the essence of the sun and the moon. Mother left the rural life with confidence and went to the vast mountains. In order to make a living and pay our tuition, my mother often haunts beautiful and dangerous mountainous areas alone. In a deep valley rotting like a muddy swamp, mother swung hard? Boss, ask this forest full of mountains and plains. The head is carved in the sparks generated by the impact on the rock, and the star-like light adds a little light to the mother's sad eyes, which is the focus of her life and full of colorful dreams. Mother waved violently? Head, jaws shattered, spilled blood dyed the wooden handle red, and hot sweat slipped from the red face. Mother doesn't know at all, or does she try her best? Dig a mountain and pick up a rare medicinal material. After years of climbing mountains and wading, I have developed my mother's strong body. In the desolate mountain, my mother walked around the Woods with her back to the scorching sun and her heavy legs, looking for the' treasure' of the mountain. She couldn't bear to let go of a corner. Under the long-term exposure of the scorching sun, her pupils are already very tired, and the hunger from time to time makes her dizzy. Being in an empty valley, listening to the sound of "Ding Dong" in spring, listening to the sound of the wind blowing through the branches and leaves, my mother is also sighing lonely. Not far away came the sound of birds singing through the sky, and my mother was shocked and suddenly looked up at the sky. A white eagle hovered over her mother's head against the airflow, constantly posing, soaring and overlooking the valley, which made her envious. Eagle, spreading its wings in the air and fighting in the sky, the courage and strength of that kind of fighting aroused more expectations buried in the mother's heart, an impulse of longing, full of strength, and strode to climb higher mountains.
On the faint country road, yellow leaves flutter in the rustling autumn wind, showing off the richness of autumn. The creaking old ox cart drives slowly, bumping on the winding river bank, surrounded by a golden ocean, and the heavy ears of rice rise and fall rhythmically in the wind, nodding and bowing frequently, indicating the prosperity of autumn. Mother, putting down her needlework and looking out the window at autumn scenery, had no intention of sewing, released a little relief in her heart and hurried to the autumn festival to command the harvest feast. The joy of harvest has filled her heart. Mother walked into the colorful vegetable garden with a bamboo basket on her arm. Pumpkins, tomatoes, eggplant and peppers in the garden are skillfully hung on the branches, like babies in infancy, waiting for their owners to pick them. Long Miao couldn't bear to retire, crawling on the ground to appreciate his masterpiece, waiting for the master's binding. Mother's powerful hand mercilessly faded away her sentimental youth and deprived her of the quiet beauty of autumn. Mother took a sickle and waved fiercely to the children of the earth. Before welcoming the first ray of sunshine in the morning, the wheat has quietly landed on the fragrant land, and the rows of corn stalks lined up to welcome guests have also become the prisoners of the mother. Those soybeans that can't stand the sun poison, mother is afraid that they will burst and break their shells and fall to the ground. Mother didn't ignore their feelings at all. In the hot autumn sun, my mother tried her best to care for the rich crops, sweat rolled down from her forehead and petals on the branches fell inadvertently. Every inch of land and every mature branch was soaked with her blood and sweat. Autumn is my mother's autumn. This autumn, my mother is destined to be busy and tired. When the rooster crowed for the first time, mother had already stepped on the morning dew, shouldering the heavy harvest, and brought autumn home step by step; This autumn, my mother was laughing in her heart, and the high-piled soybean stalks and corn stalks piled up her solid expectations; This autumn, my mother's face is haggard and bent, and the years have ruthlessly carved a knife mark on her face. The old face tells the vicissitudes and burdens borne by the mother, and the rickety body interprets the mother's difficult experience and her combative life course.
During the slack season after the autumn harvest, my mother still refuses to be idle. In order to subsidize the family, to buy school supplies and review books for our brothers and sisters, my mother braved the cold wind, endured the abnormal low temperature, walked on the road in early winter with a rusty iron rake on her back, and went to the iron factory in a nearby village to collect scrap iron. Mother stood on the high iron slag, and the wayward cold wind blew on her thin face, destroying her thin body, but not her firm belief. Mother leaned forward, hunched her back and threw the rake at the hard iron slag. The polluted air was filled with the choking smell of dust, which rushed directly to her eyes and respiratory tract. There is still a trace of sadness in her expression, but her heart is stubbornly fighting against fate, and her petite body contains infinite energy. Mother stubbornly stirred the iron slag under her feet, banging on the earth and asking about the sky. Her frail body stood proudly in the cold wind, like a pine tree, still standing in the depths of her daughter's memory, like a monument to the years. There is no mother's festival in the mountains. In snowy weather, mother still refuses to rest. Her dexterous hands twist long love into tough silk thread to mend the hardships of the years. Her cracked hands always make life delicious. After the rough vegetarian dishes are processed by her mother, we can often eat delicious and sweet food. Her calloused hands are full of happiness, and her mother always makes up for the days when she can't make ends meet.
Mother in the mountains, you put your youth into the barren land, and your daughter didn't have time to take care of your face. Time pushes you to dusk, and you are struggling on the edge of helplessness. Your daughter has no time to support you, and time has made your body more and more rickety. You have experienced too much cold rain, and your daughter has no time to shelter you from the wind and rain, but you have propped up a warm sky for me. Mother in the mountains, your academic performance is blank, but you have carefully created a masterpiece. Three daughters and sons are the pride of your life. If you continue to love in the next life, I will still be your daughter, and my daughter will never forget you when she goes abroad-mother in the mountains, year after year.