Today's Frostfall .
Autumn only begins to become clear after the frost falls. At this time, the rows of poplar trees in front of the door began to fall leaves. Even in the windless weather, you will hear the "pitch" sound when the leaves fall to the ground, as if a heavy sigh. The sky became high, and the sun shone through the gaps of the branches in the courtyard. The women chased the sunshine and turned out their family's sweaters and cotton coats from the boxes, shook the folds and dried them in the yard.
In my memory, the wheat in the farmland before and after the Frost falls, the water has sprouted, the water is tender green, neatly separated by the ridges, like a series of beautiful paintings. Adjacent to it are large pieces of sweet potato field. The vines are wrapped around the vines, and the leaves are next to the leaves, tightly. sweet potato leaves without frosting are dark green in color; after frosting, it becomes thinner and darker, and becomes more tepy. At this time, these black leaves have become rare food, and every household will choose the tender leaves on the tip of the vine to store them and keep them for winter to eat. My sister-in-law's husband is doing business in Anhui. Last year, he gave a gift to a client and called him back and asked his relatives to go to the field to pick these black leaves as gifts.
When I was a child, my parents had to plant a few acres of sweet potatoes every year. This is the annual input for our family and the source of tuition for our siblings. When harvesting sweet potatoes, my father always went to the field early in the morning and first used a sickle to cut off some of the sweet potato seedlings. After breakfast, my mother pulled the cart , with iron rakes, thorn baskets, teapots, mattes, and father's breakfast. The whole family followed him to the field. When I arrived in the field, my sister and I took over the seedlings for my father. My father and mother used iron rakes to scatter sweet potatoes one by one, and my younger brother was responsible for gathering the sweet potatoes into piles.
In terms of farm work, it may be because my family is tolerant, so I never studied seriously. Sometimes I jumped with the sweet potato vine as a rope, and then ran to the side of the road to pull wild flowers. I tied a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers and inserted it into the car. My mother also prepared a lighter iron rake for me, but I have never learned to use it. I always lift the iron rake high, and when it lands, the rake teeth will lie on my side. Because of this, my mother was so worried that I would not get married when I grew up.
In the evening, my parents started to transport sweet potatoes to their homes. A full cart of sweet potatoes, surrounded by mattes, one meter high. The father was carrying the handlebars, the mother tied the rope to one side of the shaft and pulled it hard, and the sister and brother followed behind the car to push it. I stayed alone in the field to guard the remaining sweet potatoes and tools.
The sun set into the valley, and the mountains in the distance and the hills in the nearest gradually disappeared in the night. Misty rose up in the fields and the air became moist. The breath of night is crowded, and the valleys and depressions become narrow and deep. I lay on a pile of sweet potato seedlings and sang, watching the sky look like a huge semicircular cage, slowly pressing down, getting lower and darker. When the only voice of me was around, I became scared. So, the sweet potato seedlings were stacked higher, pressed against them, blocked their bodies, and stared at the direction of their parents without saying a word. As my parents got closer, my uneasy heart gradually calmed down.
When we grew up, all three of us siblings left home, and only our parents did the farm work at home. My mother suffered from shoulder pain due to years of fatigue. My father was not in good health. The three of us siblings advised our parents not to grow sweet potatoes again, and they were reluctant to let them go. Later, more and more people in the village went out to work, and most of the people left behind were elderly people and young women who watched children. It turned out that the villagers worked together and helped each other again, so his father left behind his livelihood that he had worked for almost his lifetime.
Nowadays, there are fewer and fewer sweet potatoes, and they are sold in supermarkets like fruits. I miss the time I grew up in the sweet potato nest when I was a child. At that time, my father was still there and was still young.
