In our hometown, the houses are divided into main house, miscellaneous house and kitchen house. The so-called main house is the house where you live, the miscellaneous house, also called the "use house", is used to store farm tools and other sundries, and the stove house is the house where firewood is used for cooking and pig food. The main house is divided into the "hanging house" and the "fire house". The "hanging house" is actually the owner's bedroom, also called the "back room", and the "fire house" is equivalent to the living room and dining room.
The furnishings of the fire house are very special. When entering, there is a stool with a baffle, a backrest and a seat, and there are drawers under the seat. Our locals call it "wall screen". Our ancestors invented this wall screen, which shows its uniqueness. Wisdom: From the perspective of use, it not only blocks the cold wind outside the door, but also serves as a bench. The drawer under the seat stores sewing boxes and other items used by women to make women's dresses. From the perspective of Feng Shui, it is clear at a glance when entering the house, and wealth is always exposed. Well, the wall screen solves this Feng Shui problem very well.
Opposite the wall screen is a simple bed. Perpendicular to the wall screen is a small long bench. Above the bench is a wooden lattice window. On the wall opposite the window is a cupboard, next to the bowl. The cabinet is a square table. There is a wooden door next to the square table, which leads to the inner room. Beside the corner of the door, there is a simple wooden rack for placing cauldrons, steamers, etc. When eating, the square table is moved and placed on the stove. In winter, the fire house table is steaming with steam. The family sits around the square table to eat. The fire house is rich in the warmth of ancient times and the simplicity of the farming era.
I miss spending winter nights at my grandma’s house the most.
On winter nights, grandpa usually sits on the bed, clasping his hands and stretching his feet under the quilt. Grandpa has chronic bronchitis and coughs "bang, huh" from time to time. There is always an alms bowl filled with firewood and ashes next to him, ready to receive the spittoon that his grandpa spits out after "talking". We like to move around on the wall screen and on the little bench under the window. Sitting on the wall screen, you will stand up and stare at the lattice carvings above the wall screen. You can't help but touch the leaping birds with your hands and imitate the bird's calls; after a while, you will step on the wall screen again. On the small bench under the window. Every winter, the windows of my grandma’s house would be covered with a kind of transparent tissue paper filled with words. We didn't recognize the words, we just felt that they looked beautiful and comfortable.
When I grew up, I realized that those transparent thin papers filled with words were rice paper, and those words might be family trees. When grandpa and grandma are not paying attention, we like to dip our fingers in some saliva and secretly poke it on the tissue paper. When we poke it, a small hole will appear, and then we will breathe into the small hole. When we were discovered, grandma would just pat us on the head lightly, but grandpa would frown at us, raise his beard, glare at us, and then cough a few times. Grandpa was very serious and very strange. Although we were afraid of him, we always liked to run to his house. My grandfather's family was relatively wealthy. He used various methods to support his only precious daughter, my mother, including often taking us to his house to play. In fact, he wanted to keep his grandchildren well-fed.
On that winter night, my grandfather leaned on the bedside and watched his grandson playing. Grandma used the exquisite wooden box to contain chestnuts and dried sweet potatoes and placed it on the square table above the stove. There was fun, eating, talking and laughing; grandma would sometimes mix boiling water with glutinous rice soaked in sweet potatoes and give it to us as drinks. Drinking this hot glutinous rice wine on a cold night will warm your whole body.
At that time, I always felt that the winter nights at my grandma’s house were particularly short. Before we had enough fun, we were driven to bed by our grandma, and we would kick each other in the quilt, pull the quilt, not giving in to each other, and the winner would burst into laughter. Under the dim light, laughter overflowed and filled the room with warmth.
Grandma is my mother’s stepmother. She is not only a loving mother, but also a good grandmother with a smile. Grandma’s fire house is filled with the best memories of my childhood, including warmth, sweetness, pleasure, joy, and that rare carefreeness.
Compared to my grandpa’s house, my fire house is a little simpler.
Earlier, our home did not have a wall screen, but later we built a new wall screen. In the fire house, there is a long bench at the entrance and a simple bed opposite the bench. A kerosene lamp was placed in the north-facing window, and charcoal was burning in the stove. At that time, coal was only burned during the New Year days. I usually use firewood to cook pig food in the morning. When burning firewood, charcoal slowly accumulates. When the firewood is almost finished burning, quickly add more firewood, then take out the newly burned firewood from the stove and quickly pour water to extinguish it. The blazing flames will immediately turn into black charcoal.
This charcoal is the fuel for the underground furnace in the fire house on winter nights.
The underground furnace in the fire house is only used in winter.
On an early winter night, although the cold wind is not biting, the whooshing cool breeze will come out from the plastic breaks on the windows and the cracks in the door, blowing on the body, and it will be cool. From this time on, charcoal will be added to the stove to start the fire. A square table was covered over the stove, and the brothers and sisters were playing on the bed. My mother, sister and I were sitting around the square table, twisting hemp rope.
The hemp rope is used to hold the soles of shoes. Families with plans will definitely start rolling hemp ropes in early winter. At that time, when I was just starting to go to school, I started to follow my mother and sister to twist hemp rope.
When rolling hemp rope, first soak the dry ramie fiber with water, then shake off the water, and then separate the strands evenly. I sat at the square table and followed my mother's lead in twisting the hemp rope: I lifted the trouser leg of my left leg above the knee, exposing the knee, pulled it with my left hand, and rubbed it with my right hand. Pulling and rubbing, back and forth, in a short time, it was twisted into a meter-long hemp rope, tied into a twist-like slip knot, hung on the iron chain above the stove, and allowed to dry slowly.
It was late at night, and the big yellow dog at home was curled up next to the stove, eyes slightly closed, seemingly asleep. After playing hard, the younger brothers and sisters also stumbled on the bed and slowly fell asleep. The charcoal in the stove was almost burning out, and my mother said, "After rubbing this charcoal on your hands, go to bed!" My sister and I had been waiting for my mother's order to go to sleep.
After the hemp rope is completely dry, the season has entered late winter.
I, my sister, and my mother started making cloth shoes. Mom is the chief designer. First, I cut the shoe pattern. My job is to stick strips of cloth on the upper and sole. Then my mother trims them neatly and then sews the lining on them. I am responsible for sewing the lining and the upper according to the shape of the upper, and then sewing the upper on the shoe. Sew several rows of stitches back and forth on the heel. This is called "needle eye" to prevent the heel of the cloth shoes from hanging down when wearing it. Putting on the soles requires wrist strength, which is the job done by my sister; the process of embroidering the uppers and sewing the uppers and soles together is commonly known as inlaying shoes. That is the most critical step, and of course it is done by my mother.
At that time, it often snowed in winter. The cold wind blew outside and the voices inside were chirping. Occasionally, while I was doing it, my head sank involuntarily, and I couldn't support it any longer. My head shook, I woke up for a moment, and then I continued to work.
Kerosene lamps, stoves, square tables, and the scene of mother taking two "little women" to work as female celebrities. This kind of scene only existed in the past. Today, the profession of tailor is slowly disappearing, and many purely manual jobs are also slowly dying.
At that time, my father worked in the city and came home for vacation once a month. If Dad comes back from vacation, our fire house will always be filled with laughter on winter nights. This laughter is better than the clarity and purity of the clear springs in the mountain streams.
My mother, sister and I were still working as prostitutes under the kerosene lamp. The younger siblings were still playing on the bed. At this time, Dad will use his magical fingers to transform the agile rabbit into a running rabbit on the wall, or a lively puppy barking. The younger brothers and sisters will catch the rabbit on the wall on the bed, or run to the ground to catch up. Puppy, the faster you chase, the more your dad’s magical fingers change. Rabbits, puppies, eagles, all kinds of animals are running around on the walls. Dad’s children were tired from running and were warm all over. Dad gave an order: “Okay, it’s time to go to bed!”
Of course, not every winter night, we are like “Little Women” "Usually working as a female celebrity. Many times, after dinner, we would sit around the fire in the fire house and listen to my mother telling the story of the Three Kingdoms, the Sui and Tang Dynasties, and the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl and the Snail Girl. The dim kerosene light gave us another magical imagination: Could there be a snail girl walking on the blurry wall? Will Weaver Girl fly down from that mysterious staircase?
I have the impression that there is always endless housework to do at home. When I was lying in bed on a winter night, I looked at the mottled shadows on the wall and imagined that after dawn, maybe there would be a kind-hearted snail girl to help me with the housework. , at that time, I really believed that there was a kind-hearted snail girl hiding in a corner that no one knew about, sweeping the floor, carrying water, washing and cooking for you when no one was paying attention.
As time goes by, my grandparents have passed away long ago, my father passed away five years ago, and my mother is old, but those warm fragments given by my elders warm my life: I have this stored in my heart. With the warmth of love, what does it matter even if you can’t hear the cuckoo’s first song after the cold winter?