The old houses in my hometown are located in the folds of the mountains to the west. To the south of the old house is Chongshan Mountain. Standing on the threshing floor in front of the door, you can overlook the cliffs of Chongshan Mountain; to the north is steep mountain, the mountain is slightly gentle, and a slope of more than 40 degrees stretches straight to the top of the mountain; The small Qingshui River meanders from the depths of the mountains, swirls at the foot of Chongshan Mountain, then turns eastward and flows past the threshing floor in front of the old house.
Along the river to the west, there are still a few families living here and there; to the east of the river, the slope of the mountains decreases, the terrain is open, and there are more residential buildings. There are several rows of farmyards near the river, and there are also some on the mountain. Several rows of farmhouses are built according to the mountain terrain, with the mountains behind them and the rivers facing them. They are well-proportioned, and a street naturally forms between the two rows of houses, which is the most prosperous area of ??the small mountain village.
The hillsides and ravines around the village are filled with large and small jujube trees, winding for dozens of miles. It is said that the ancestors led them after they moved from the old stork nest in Hongdong County. Planted by our children and grandchildren.
Looking from a distance from a high place, my old house together with the small mountain village looks like it is built in a huge flowerpot. The surrounding mountains are the rim of the flowerpot, and the jujube trees all over the mountains and plains are bonsais. . Whenever the jujube flowers are in bloom, bursts of fragrance will drown you, make you intoxicated, and make you drifting, and you can't tell whether you are on the ground or in the sky. The Mid-Autumn Festival is here, the dates are ripe, and the bright red dates are hanging all over the treetops, bending the branches. The thick sweet fragrance overflows from the hillsides, ravines, and from the courtyards and roofs of the mountain people. It has reached the mountains, sweetened the water, and made people outside the mountains stand on tiptoes and look in. They don’t know how envious they are of the people living in the huge flower pots!
However, my family has long been gone in that magical and sweet place, and only those old houses remain there silently, revealing the past that this family once had.
The old house has long been out of shape. A large piece of the north house's eaves has collapsed, exposing the rotten rafters; a pillar of the west house's truss is crooked to one side, struggling to support the crumbling roof; the doors and windows have long been broken, and you can see the house as soon as you enter the yard. The smoky black walls. The courtyard is still so narrow, and the weeds all over the courtyard tell people that no one has been here for a long time.
There used to be a peach tree planted in the southeast corner of the small courtyard. My aunt and I dug the saplings from the mountain and planted them there. When I left the old house, it had grown taller than my aunt. I remember eating the sweet peaches it produced! Today, there are only a few wild mugwort trees standing there blankly, and the peach trees have long since disappeared.
Why did the eaves of the north house collapse? Isn't it because grandma sat there twisting twine and collapsed after sitting for a long time? Everyone in the village knows that grandma’s twine is the best. Grandma has been twisting twine for many years, just to exchange money to support the family. At that time, she was sitting on the eaves of the north room. The yellow linen thread jumped in her arms, then passed through her deft hands, and suddenly turned into a thin and even linen thread. The linen thread hung down from the eaves, slowly growing longer bit by bit, and the breeze blew , the twine floated gently, all the way to the ground. Later, grandma left. When she left, she still kept thinking about whose twine she had not finished making for them.
The walls in the house were not that dark originally, and there were photos of my childhood hanging on the wall in the west room. That was a photo of me when I was more than one year old. It was not easy to take a photo in those days after liberation, but later I lost it, and I regretted it for the rest of my life.
I came back once when I was eleven years old. Life was very difficult in those years. When school was on vacation, I would go back to my uncle's house in order to have a good meal.
One day, I suddenly wanted to go back to the old house to see it, so accompanied by my eldest cousin, I climbed over the majestic mountains, crossed the Qingshui River by the village, and walked into the small courtyard of the old house. We saw thick smoke billowing from the north roof of the old house, and coughing sounds came from the courtyard, which startled us. I hurriedly ran in and saw a woman sitting by the stove making a fire to cook. Freshly cut wet thatch was stuffed into the stove. It did not emit fire, only smoke.
"Who are you?" the woman asked sharply.
"I am the owner of this old house, and this house belongs to our family." I said calmly.
"Your house? This family has died long ago."
"What do you do? How do you live here?" This is the question asked by my eldest cousin. I have long been so angry that I can't speak.
"I am a five-guarantee household, can you take care of it?" After saying that, he went to stuff the stove with wet thatch, and a thick smoke came out again, choking people so much that they couldn't breathe or open their eyes. Open your eyes.
I really wanted to go up and overturn the stove, but my eldest cousin pulled me up and walked out.
I left, I left the old house, but I knew that the old house was getting darker and darker, but I was helpless and powerless, and my heart was filled with coptis. It's pity that the wall, which was soaked with the body heat of generations of ancestors, was destroyed like this.
An ancient locust tree once grew outside the gate of the old house. No one knows who planted it here, and no one knows how many years it has lived. The eldest man in the mountain village only heard from his grandfather that his grandfather once led them to hide and seek under the ancient locust tree.
The trunk of the ancient locust tree is so thick that several people can’t hug it together, and the huge crown blocks the sky and the sun. When the Sophora japonica flowers are in full bloom in May, white Sophora japonica flowers hang in clusters all over the treetops. The warm wind blows, and the clear fragrance floats with the wind, filling the valleys, mountain villages, and every household.
Grandma said that this ancient locust tree is the god of our family. With it, it will bring good luck for thousands of years.
One autumn, a loud cry of a baby came from the old house. A son was born in our family, and grandma had a grandson. On the day of the full moon, grandma held him and went to visit the big locust tree. From then on, the baby had the only name he still uses today. This baby is me.
Later, the ancient locust tree disappeared, and no one remembers exactly which year it disappeared.
The vigorous and vibrant ancient locust tree suddenly dried up, losing its young leaves, new branches, and crown. Soon, the thick tree body also entered the shochu stove.
However, I am still there, and the good fortune is still there.
The old house has not collapsed yet, although it is crumbling. Collapsed gables can be rebuilt, collapsed eaves can be repaired, and tilted pillars can be straightened.
I think it will not collapse.
One day, I was sitting and chatting with my mother. My mother is eighty-three years old this year, but she has a strong body, a clear mind, and a good memory. Speaking of our old house, tears welled up in her weather-beaten eyes.
She will never forget that her grandfather, who herded sheep for the landlord, had his waist broken. He lay on the kang in the old house and could not get off the ground for half a year. Her stubborn father picked up a hoe to avenge his grandfather, and was forced to do so. Go far away;
She will never forget that her father who went to fight against Japan led his squad to fight and deal with the Japanese in the mountains, and the old house became their secret contact point;
< p> She will not forget that when the poor people who turned over were given land and houses, she invited a few sisters to come to the old house to celebrate and sing;She will not forget that her son has just learned to walk. , she went to help her grandma clean up the stove. The happy grandma couldn’t open her mouth from ear to ear and praised everyone when she saw him: "My grandson will definitely be successful when he grows up!"
She will not forget her grandfather who has suffered all his life. Grandma, after only a few good days, the two old people fell ill just after the liberation. They passed away soon after and left the old house forever.
"Buy the old house back." I suggested tentatively.
"It's time to buy it back, it's time to buy it back." Mom said with straight eyes, as if talking to herself. After a while, she asked again: "But who is going to live there?"
No one is going to live there. My brothers all work in the city, and my mother lives with us. Who has nothing to do to dig into the folds of the mountains?
However, I am still determined to buy the old house back, not for anything else but to prevent it from collapsing.