text | Wang Cuiyu
Weekend, relax physically and mentally. I went back to the two families and looked at the old man. I saw the vast fields, the rods drying everywhere, the heavy ears of grain, and it seemed that I had returned to my childhood. I saw the figure working and playing in the fields, and I saw the self who would dry grain on the roadside when it was a little bigger. I especially thought of an embarrassing thing that the millet and grain ripened everywhere in autumn, and smelled the fragrance of wine in my childhood.
When I was a child, I had land at home, and children followed the adults to work uphill, especially the harvest season was very busy. What children are most interested in is not working, but mingling in it for a while, catching a grasshopper, finding a mantis, and begging her brothers and sisters to teach you how to build a horse and pull a cart, or when you go home, you watch the adults use the fresh food they just harvested in their homes to make delicious food.
One year, my mother seemed to have had a cold and worked too much, and her legs were not big. I heard from the old man in the village that drinking yellow wine can cure it, which was very effective for my mother's legs, and she also said that the effect of brewing her own grain was good. So my mother was going to make some by herself. I was very interested when I heard this. I had never seen rice wine at that time. I asked my mother and knew it was made of millet, which is the sticky millet.
What does it feel like? My mother said it was sour and sweet, so what color was it? I couldn't help but think again. I was waiting for the millet and grain to mature, and wanted to follow the adults to collect it quickly, and make rice wine quickly to see what it is like. But once during this period, I heard my mother tell her father that she would not do it anymore, saying that it was very troublesome and that autumn was so busy, and I was extremely disappointed. I immediately ran to them and insisted on my mother doing it. I couldn't help but bend my mind and finally agreed.
Finally, it was the season for harvesting millet. My mother asked about the old man in a village who found some wine and dried it on the windowsill in the yard. It is said that it was a wine introduction, which can ferment, precipitate, and turn it into wine. After collecting the ears of millet and grain, they were placed on the road. I was reading while reading books on the roadside. The passing vehicles were crushed out of the grains. Then, we followed our mothers to push the mill with grinding sticks in the yard. After pushing them from the mill, we used a dustpan to shake out the rice bran for the first time, and the remaining second time was the rice bran and and .
It seems that my mother boiled the sticky rice and porridge. The wine was also put in it. Because she was young, she ran out to play and couldn't remember the process of my mother doing it at that time. When I went to see it, my mother had already put it in bottles. Those bottles are green and transparent, and the plugs on the outside are rubbery and sealed very tightly.
Those bottles are placed on the square table in the outer room, leaning against the gable, just like queuing up. What's the smell there? What will it look like when you open it and look directly? I began to be curious from time to time. But my mother said that it cannot be moved, let alone opened, because it is not good to drink.
How much do I want to know what the wine tastes, and what does it look like after opening it? I began to turn around the square table frequently, but I was not tall enough to reach those wine bottles. Finally, one day, my mother was not in the house, and it seemed like she had gone to the back garden to get firewood. After hesitating for a long time, I climbed onto the chair. Climbing onto the chair, I looked at the door behind, turned around quickly, stood up from the chair and stretched my arms to the bottle by the wall, and got a bottle.
Oh, it turned out to be so heavy, I was too anxious, I missed, the bottle fell on the table, and seeing it rolling rapidly on the smooth table, I quickly reached over and threw it at it, and almost crawled onto the square table. At this time, my heart jumped violently with the bottle. I was both excited and nervous. I carefully fixed my body and listened. My mother hadn't come back yet. Oh, "Hurry, hurry up." These words flashed in my heart. I pulled out the rubber stopper, but I couldn't pull it out. I sweated slightly from my head, and I slowly pulled up the wings of the plug that was put around the mouth of the bottle, and then pulled it hard. Oh my, I didn't expect the wine to jump, and a fountain-like stream came out, spraying it on my face and clothes, and on the table, Oh my God, I'm done! I was panicked for a moment, and put it down in a hurry. I quickly found a rag and wiped it off my body, and a gust of wind rushed out of the yard.
ran to a garden where I often played on the road. I calmed down and stuck out my tongue and licked my cheeks unconsciously. There was still the spray of wine on my cheeks, sweet and a little sour. The fragrance of rice seemed to have a bit of wine. After licking it like a kitten for a few times, I covered my mouth and laughed. Finally, I realized that this is how rice wine is.
When I was a child, I was so simple and innocent, so transparent. When I finally knew the answer to the mystery of the rice wine, it was like an ending of a big event. I soon went from being nervous about getting into trouble to playing and then throwing this matter behind my head, without a trace. That day, when I played with my friend until it was dark, I didn’t remember how it ended. It seemed that my mother thought it was too angry when it fermented, so she pushed the lid up?
or did he ask us intentionally or unintentionally if anyone has touched it? I forgot it, but I remember the figure who climbed onto the chair, even onto the square table, and the busy look. When I think about it now, my heart seems to be still beating, and the slight mellow smell of wine and the strong fragrance of rice are still lingering around my mouth.
Childhood is a precious memory in the heart. Whenever I think of it, it always brings a series of beauty and special pleasure. When I grew up, I had red wine, white wine, rice wine, old wine, m wine, , shopping malls and supermarkets, and I would drink and taste it with my relatives and friends during festivals or holidays. However, the rice wine in my memory is so meaningful, sour and sweet, as if I can’t compare to any kind of fine wine.
Every time this happens, I always think of the fragrance of wine on my mouth in my childhood, and what Bing Xin said: Childhood is a dream in the truth, a reality in the dream...
Author profile: Wang Cuiyu, online name Xiaoqiao Liushui, member of Zibo Writers Association, and member of Zibo Youth Writers Association. His works are scattered in newspapers and magazines such as "Shandong Workers' Daily", "Shandong Radio and Television News", "Literary Hundred Flowers Garden", "Oriental Essays", " Zibo Evening News ". He has won the "Top Ten Young Writers" and other municipal or above honors.
Yidian No. Shandong Financial Literature
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