The passage of time has changed the scenery and people in my hometown, and also changed me.
More than ten years ago, a rural teenager got up early and went to school. After school, he went up the mountain to cut wood and pick fruits, fished and caught shrimps in the river, worked in the fields with his family during the summer harvest, and chased rabbits with his dog up the mountain in winter. In the eyes of this teenager, the changes of the scenery of the four seasons are as vivid as slides, black and white.
The village hasn't changed much in the past twenty years. The road is wider and straighter, the car is available, the old house is gone, the new house is gone, the old man died, and the middle-aged man became an old man. Teenagers are also growing up, and the childishness of yellow-haired children is gone. Here comes a man with a boundless face. He has walked a lot since he left the mountain village. Walking in the middle, his clothes and manners are out of place with the villagers at home and different from the cities outside. His roots are in the countryside, but his appearance is different.
The passage of time and the changes brought about by the separation of space are inseparable from the traces of the past. Some things that have settled in the deep heart seem to have been forgotten. Once a similar situation occurs, it will naturally emerge unconsciously. This time is a kind of primitive truth. Perhaps just between drinking and talking to people, some common and familiar contents can't be expressed in proper language for a while. At this time, a different voice from what we have said and heard since childhood will be generated deep in our throat, and others will be a little surprised to ask, "Where are you from and where is your hometown?" . I accidentally found that I have lived here for a long time, but I am not a citizen here. I used to be a member of my hometown, and my hometown has become my hometown-so far away from myself and so close emotionally. Outside, people think I'm from other places; In my hometown, people think I am an outsider. I don't know where this hometown is. The appearance of clothes and words, the road I walked when I went out, seemed to separate me from my hometown, and I unconsciously became an uncertain middleman.
Even though I am an uncertain middleman, I have a sense of closeness to my hometown: my parents still live in the place where they have lived all their lives, and my relatives and friends still walk dozens of miles away from Fiona Fang. During Tomb-Sweeping Day and the Old Year, family members will pay homage to grandparents, great grandparents and great grandparents buried on that mountain.
Have my roots, roots that can't be solved.
Hometown, an unknown mountain, is unknown to outsiders. When it comes to its origin, we often talk about the Dabie Mountains and the Yangtze River from the general direction.
Dabie Mountain falls like a leaf between the Yangtze River and the Huaihe River, with one vein flowing to the Yangtze River and the other to the Huaihe River. My hometown is at the end of Dabie Mountain, which extends to the Yangtze River.
From Wuhan, the thoroughfare of nine provinces, eastward, at the end of the Yangtze River in Dabie Mountain, at the foot of the mountain, there is a small town called Mei Chuan. Mei Chuan used to be the county seat that was widely used in the old society. Later, the county seat moved to the edge of the Yangtze River, and Mei Chuan declined somewhat. Speaking of the name Guangji, it is also very interesting. The Sui Dynasty used to be Yongning, and later Buddhism spread in the Central Plains. Perhaps it is the prosperity of this place that adopted the ancestral meaning of Buddhism: "Guangji is for all the people" and changed it to Guangji as the county name. Nowadays, most place names in China are related to temples: Shangmiao, Dafa Temple, Shifo Temple, Lingshan and so on.
The towns in mountainous areas used to be just an old street running through east and west or north and south. Many years have passed and the center of the town is shifting, but the old street still looks the same as in the past: the multi-tone arched gate has lost sight of the bustling scene of people coming and going in the past, and now the street is a bit deserted. Occasionally, young women wear iron palm shoes and walk through the streets of bluestone slabs, knocking out crisp sounds for everyone to have a look and see the new look of the old street; Once upon a time, there were photo studios, restaurants, daily necessities, hardware stores, stationery stores, Xinhua Bookstore and cloth stores on both sides. Now the flow of people has decreased, or it has been used for other purposes, or it has been sealed with door panels. The railings upstairs facing the street are all sticking out, and the people are full of cobwebs and dust. Out of the city gate, a stream of clear water flows outside the city, and a stone bridge stands on it, called Renshou Bridge. In the past, the busiest places on the street were on both sides of the bridge before ten o'clock in the morning. Some time after the sun came out in the morning, the noise of the washerwoman came from under the bridge, and the traffic on the bridge was like a stream. Early in the morning, people who came from home to sell rice and firewood crowded both sides of the bridge, put down their burdens and stood behind, waiting for the expectation and the sound of bargaining, making the bridge head bustling. There is only one market in Bali, a suburb around Mei Chuan. When people in rural areas go shopping or selling things, they will invite their companions to go with them at night. They set off from home at three or four in the morning and went to the street. They can complete the business transaction before 90 am and have lunch when they get home. Going out across the bridge is the shed of the former imperial examination, a large open space. Now there are no old traces of the past except place names. In addition, the square patio, Huizi Corridor and the ancient well where celebrities were baptized at Ximentou in the middle school of the old county with a history of one hundred years are one of the few old traces of the town.
All this is the scene of the past, and now it is transferred to the newly-built market, which is not as lively as before. When walking through the town, some old houses on the edge of the old street and old people playing cards together in front of the house make the town look quaint and quiet in the excitement.
Seen from the north of Cheng Xiao, it is the remnant vein of Dabie Mountain. In the bright sunshine, green and dark green mountains stand as barriers in the distance and extend sideways in the winding ups and downs. Therefore, there is a landscape of "beautiful mountains and clear waters", and the mountain is about 1000 meters high. On sunny days, the temples on the top of the mountain are clearly visible on the emerald green. The white wall reflects sunlight and flashes into the eyes. In summer, before the rain comes down, you can see the rain and fog cover the top of the mountain from a distance, and at this time, the temples above can't be seen. As soon as the actor looked up, he was so busy that the ending was over. It's raining. From far to near, they enter the city from the wild. The bridge that was just lively suddenly became clean and deserted, and the rain curtain hung over the town. Everything is blurred, and the balcony of the wooden house is full of people. The rainwater collected from the mountain made the loudest noise and rushed down mercilessly. Finally, the reservoir at the foot of the mountain contained them all.
Near the street corner of Mei Chuan West Street, there is an ancient well named "Bathing Buddha Well", named after Sima Daoxin, the fourth ancestor of Zen Buddhism. After Buddhism was introduced into China from India, in the Tang Dynasty, Dharma, a Buddhist monk, branched out and founded Zen. Sima Daoxin, the fourth ancestor of Zen Buddhism, was born in Mei Chuan. According to legend, he was born in a rich family and often cried. A monk passed by and saw his face. He said, "This son is my Buddha's destiny takes a hand." He rubbed his head and stopped crying. When he was young, he became a monk in a temple in Xishan, north of Huangmei, which was later called "Sizu Temple". Later, on the way to Mount Huangshan, I met Hong Ren, who later became the fifth ancestor, and handed down his clothes and discs. The fourth ancestral temple in Xishan is not far from the fifth ancestral temple in Dongshan, but the incense is not very prosperous. Later, it actually declined and even became a ruin in the war. Recently, it was reported that it would be rebuilt.
About ten miles from Mei Chuan to the east, up the mountain, there is a place that looks like a basin, only a dozen miles from Fiona Fang, surrounded by mountains, and a small gap is opened in the southwest corner to let water flow out. There is a mountain in the south called Houfeng Village, which is about 500 meters high. There used to be a big Tibetan temple in Yang Shan, with many temples and pavilions. It is said that there are more than 1000 houses, occupying a whole hillside. From the foot of the mountain, there are hundreds of monks, many of whom often practice martial arts. Later, it was destroyed in the catastrophe, and thousands of temples ceased to exist and became dozens of hectares of fertile land. The monks in the temple are all old, wandering or still in the vulgar. It is often heard that there are Wulin people coming out of the temple to teach among the people.
At the foot of Shimen Mountain in the east, there is a canyon called "Water Turning to Dragon". The "Dragon Night Rain" in Eight Scenes of Guangji refers to this place, which is a scene related to the temple. The name of the temple is "Dragon Ball", which is hidden at the bottom of two mountains. Looking down from the mountain, I can't see. From the entrance to the bottom of the valley to the upstream, I saw the mountains spewing out on both sides and the stone walls came into view. I have heard from my father about drawing lots in the temple before, but I have never tried it. Occasionally have a holiday at home, go out to play, and can't find the way back. I walked into this place by mistake, so I can see the "ancient temple hidden in the mountains" here. The temple is not very big. It is hidden behind a bamboo forest and backed by a cliff. There is a mountain spring at the bottom of the back wall of the temple. The spring water gurgled out, flowed into the stream, crossed the stone bridge on the mountain stream and reached the front of the temple. "My road twists and turns, through a sheltered valley, branches and flowers, to a Buddhist retreat" is really a good place to practice quietly. In fact, I have never seen the former Longqiao Temple. When I went there, the red walls, yellow tiles and green bamboo cliffs were beautiful. "Rain at night in the dragon's tomb" is a natural phenomenon, which the local people can't explain, leaving related myths and legends. When I first started at home, I was confused and remembered the legend. Later, I went to the Three Gorges area with "late rain" landscape and Zhangjiajie in western Hunan with the same landform, and I met this scene. I have carefully checked my physical knowledge, and I can understand that the air in the Yangtze River basin is still very humid in summer and autumn, even if it is sunny. After the water vapor in the canyon evaporates in the daytime sunlight, it can't disperse because of the blocking of the peaks on both sides of the canyon, and it accumulates in the canyon to reach saturation, and the temperature drops at night.
On the way down the mountain, terraces and dry land on the side of the mountain are planted in a mixed way. The pond in the field is as bright as a mirror, and weeds are overgrown in the mountains. Occasionally, the rain has carved a ditch mark on the ground. In the morning and afternoon, people often eat grass in the fields. Standing in the lower half of the middle, looking around, there are villages everywhere, from the top of the mountain to the middle of the mountain and then to the foot of the mountain, large and small villages dotted among them. There are more than a hundred larger villages outside the gentle mountain bottom, but only a few households are located halfway up the mountain and at the top of the mountain. In autumn, the pine forest on the mountain is dark green, and some open spaces in the forest are exposed after harvest, which is somewhat mottled in overall vision. However, in April and May, it seems that a two-color gouache painting has been rolled up again. The golden rape blossoms on the flat land are brilliant, and in the middle of this brilliance is the new green of the forest on the mountain. It's really "boundless scenery for a while", and the bamboo forest on the hillside adds new ideas to the green. Some hills 40-50 meters high occupy a slightly lower place, not far from each other. A small river flowing from the mountain spring is unusually clear and winding, like a white line dividing them into two irregular parts.
Go north when you get off the highway, go up in the direction of Heyuan, cross the stone bridge and go up again. Behind a pond is a bamboo forest. In the middle of the bamboo forest, there are seven or eight families living in Chen Ran, the mountain village where I once lived. The village is located in a concave shape supported by a hill, surrounded by bamboo forests in front and back, and there are two rows of houses in the middle, with red bricks and black tiles. Most of them are newly built, and the old houses are gone.
What I can't erase from my memory is the old house where I used to live. Compared with houses in other places, it can quite represent the characteristics and flavor of my hometown. The old houses in the countryside are slightly better than the old blue bricks, which are different from what we see now. They burn thicker and weigh 20 kilograms. In the village, if someone is strong enough to bear hundreds of pounds, you may suddenly figure it out, but you don't know much about it, but you will know how many old bricks a person can afford to build a house. Almost, the house is adobe, and most of the adobe is made by ourselves. After harvesting crops in autumn, pull the rubble into the ground, repeatedly crush the soil, cut it into pieces after it is solid, dry it and pull it back, so that you can build a house. A little bit worse is the loess rammed wall, which is picked up layer by layer and rammed up. After the house was built, the wooden stick that fixed the splint was removed, leaving many small holes in the wall.
The outer wall of the former house in my home is old blue brick, and the inside is pine with a diameter of 30-40 cm. Eight rooms in the front and eight rooms in the back. There is a courtyard in the middle, which is made of bluestone. In the corner of the patio, there is an entrance through the culvert at the bottom of the hall. When it rains, it will drain the water in the yard. The patio has the function of lighting and ventilation in the building structure, and the two sides are connected with wings, so that the front and rear are connected. A turtle has been kept in the yard for decades. It has been living there, living on the broken leaves scattered in the courtyard. When the weather is hot, it crawls out of the sewer, and when the weather is good, it goes in and out, so it becomes a scavenger in the sewer. When it rains, the water flowing from the roof and wing covers the patio from top to bottom, and the rain falls on the slate of the patio, beating like a stuffy drum. In a short time, the water in the courtyard rose, and it didn't rain for a long time, so it didn't need to overflow to the ground of the main house, and the rain was quickly discharged. When the weather is fine and the sun shines, the light shines in, bringing a lot of brightness to the dark old house. The wing rooms on both sides are mostly used for kitchens or stacking firewood and sundries.
People in mountain villages generally have no other animals except livestock, and swallows are the only exception. People in the village are lucky because of the arrival of swallows. If the conditions are better, swallows will nest from home, so there is the saying of domestic swallows. Swallows are clean and tolerant. No matter when they are alone or together, they are neat and quiet. Unlike sparrows, they can live in harmony with others, which is why everyone likes them. Spring comes, autumn flies away, and the next spring comes back. The swallow grabbed the mud and stuck it to the beam. If the children of that family destroy their nests with sticks or play tricks on them, the swallows will fly away and never come back, leaving a nest of dry mud on the beams. Swallows pass through the hall from the gate when they enter the house, so sometimes there will be a saying that "the old king thanked the hall and flew into the homes of ordinary people", but I wonder if I can still see it now.
People in the village surrounded the open space in front of the house and behind the house with stones and earth walls, then made a small Chai Men, planed the soil and made a vegetable garden, then divided it into small pieces and planted different dishes. When the house was an old house, there was a big back garden between the house and the bamboo forest. There are all kinds of vegetables all year round, which are basically eaten by the whole family. What remains in my memory are two trees in the back garden. One is a gardenia tree that is decades old. Some gardenia trees around me, take one or two branches from it and transplant them to the ground near the water. There will be many flowers around the Dragon Boat Festival, most of which are in bud and many people want them. Sometimes they pick them in the morning and put them in a basin. When someone comes to ask for it, they will take some flowers to their home. The other tree is a peach tree, which is more than ten years old. It looks good when it blooms and bears fruit. There is often a lot of oil flowing out from the bottom of the trunk of peach trees. At first, it was brown, transparent and soft, and it hardened after a while. Like amber, it was also a fun thing in children's eyes.
In addition to the two trees in the garden, many trees were planted in the gully behind the house to avoid the rain coming down from the back hill. Among them, there are two big trees, which are tens of meters high. You can see the crown from a distance, but you don't know the name of the tree. When I was a child, I was often curious about their age. When I planted them, I asked my father. My father said I didn't know. The tree was so big when I was very young. Later, one tree was cut down and the other tree was still there. In summer and autumn, the branches in Ye Sheng are lush, and the canopy covers the roof like an umbrella during the day. At night, owls fly around, perch on them and cry like babies, which makes people very scared. In winter, all the leaves fall and the sun shines. It's really great.
Life in the village is quiet at ordinary times. During the day, middle-aged people return to the fields at dawn and dusk to farm. The old man took care of the children at home, and the dog ran around the village. There was no other movement. After living in the city for a long time, I found that the dogs in the city are beautiful, but they don't bark very much. In the countryside, strangers approach the village without waiting for the crowd. He ran out of the house and stood in the distance, barking in the direction of people. The bearer dared not go on, but just stood there. Soon, maybe the owner didn't stop when he heard the dog barking. He came out of the house with one foot on the threshold.
In the past, the better road in the mountain village was a stone slab road paved with stones more than one meter long, which came from the front of the village, along the hillside next to the village and led to the back of the mountain. Once upon a time, people from plain areas such as riverside sand wanted to go to Mei Chuan, the county seat. They came from Houfeng Village. So all the way, along the stone road, over the mountain behind the Shibuling, and soon they arrived in Mei Chuan. There is a pavilion on Shibuling, with different worlds on both sides. There are long stone benches on both sides of the pavilion. The long-distance traveler was tired, so he stopped to have a rest. When they pass by the pavilion in summer, they can drink a big bowl of tea at 20 cents. When they stop in winter, they can avoid the cold wind and then continue their journey. After crossing the highway, there are fewer people coming and going. Some people move these stones to make walls when building houses. If they are preserved, it may be a good scenery in their hometown.
Most of the scenes in my hometown that I can recall now are incomplete fragments. Old things are not often mentioned, and personnel are also very vicissitudes. Old people are dead, middle-aged people are old, young people will be young, and more young people are strangers when they meet their children.
My hometown ruminates vaguely in my infrequent memories every day, occasionally thinking of the hillside river where I used to graze and read books, and climbing over the wall and trees to dig the bird's nest with people. I feel clearer in the hazy, fuzzy in the hazy, and so on, consuming my memory in the round trip again and again. If we can't separate the past and present of time, then everything can't be separated from ourselves and our hometown. People thought they were former children when they recalled, and when they went back, they would find the sweetest well there and have a big drink. No matter how high the kite flies, the first string can leave and return freely.
Since I left my hometown and embarked on the road of going out, my hometown and I are far and near. Maybe I'll go back one day. I wonder if someone "laughs and asks where the guests come from". Will the old dog at home forget me? Maybe it will bark at me a few times. Maybe he will wag his tail and look at me quietly. He still remembers.