A stone mill prose essays

Lu Ban invented the stone mill, grinding fan two, the center of the vertical axis link, the lower fan is fixed, the upper fan rotating around the axis. The two pieces of the mill fan bite to leave an empty chamber, called the grinding chamber, surrounded by grinding teeth pattern. The upper fan has a grinding eye, the grain through the grinding eye into the grinding chamber, through the grinding teeth into powder, from the crevice to the mill, through the Luo sieve to remove the bran and so on to get flour.

My family's square mill was chiseled by the neighboring Sun stonemason, who was hired by my grandfather with two quarts of rice grains and a three-foot-long red silk cloth.

In those days, over the yard, the wonderful sound of the brazier on the terrazzo flowed.

The stonemason brought the art of chiseling stone mills to Nanhe Tun. People like to meet the God of Fortune, wine and food wait, not good, chiseled mill surface is not smooth, lumps and bumps. Father repeatedly instructed not to talk nonsense in front of the Sun stonemason.

Chiseled stone mill, the father called seven or eight strong laborers, the stone mill settled in the east side of the house, cut a green bar tree trunk to do the mill pole, my stone mill's birthday happens to be the mother's birthday, the third day of September. I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.

The first time a child pushes the mill feel strange, hands holding the mill rod, a circle, a circle push, the mother of the mill eye to add grains of rice, stone mill in the rotation, rumbling, creaking sound. With two pages of stone mill center bite part, fell down the bracts ballast, golden dazzling.

Grinding not much effort, sweat beads rolled down, clothing also close to the skin. The freshness of the past, sitting aside a big mouthful of gasping, mother took over the grinding rod, "This will know the hoeing day when the afternoon, sweat drops under the soil. Who knows what it is like to eat on a plate, all the grains are bitter, right?"

I wiped the sweat on my sleeve and said nothing.

The grinding out of the bracteate ballast, through the Luo sieve, the big ballast stew dry rice to eat, fine noodles can be wrapped in vegetable dumplings, porridge.

After reading, my mother ordered us to push the mill every now and then. After learning how hard it is to push a mill, I complained to my mother why she didn't use the donkey from Uncle Ren's family to pull the mill, not just pulling a mill for 30 cents!

Mother is wise, the night of the open-air movie in the countryside, push the mill to give a few cents reward, so that we are eager to try. Because of the charm of the movie and the money, siblings pushed a few more dustpans of bud rice grains.

When I was in middle school, the stone mill was not used much. Tuen Mun has a crusher, a flip of the switch, the grain handful in the machine's funnel, ten minutes to get it done. It's a great way to save time and energy, and the processing is also delicate. The people who come to use the crusher, spend a dollar and eighty cents on the line.

The mill, was left out.

Mother still likes to use the stone mill, the Dragon Boat Festival of yellow rice, October new down rice, red sorghum, are mother holding the grinding rod push.

A lot of families bought a crusher, parents are not willing to lag behind, that spring from the county bought back a crusher, mill, completely left the stage of the countryside, become a witness to the village forward development of a mirror.

The mill was unloaded, squatting under the big poplar tree at the entrance of the village, accepting the platform of the father's gossip. Parked on the wall as the king of the stone, quite in the center of the thin river linking the bridge between the mountains and the mountains.

My family's stone mill creeping in the earth, was circled below the stalks of bracts, made the granary of bracts ears.

That year, cousin uncle drove a tricycle, door-to-door at a price of fifty dollars to collect a party square stone mill, pulled to the Buyunshan Hot Springs combination of a chic scenery, hundreds of mill, paved the road to the hot springs lodge, pigeons flocked to the tourists, stepping on the stone mill on the foot, whether the stone mill to feel the depth of love and pain?

By the stone mill derived from the banter, "unloading the mill to kill the donkey," "lazy donkey pulling the mill - playing a whip to take a step" "donkey rushed to the mill road - do not turn also have to turn". The donkey is driven to the mill road - not to turn also have to turn" has also become a familiar ` paragraph.

Nowadays, the stone mill either exists in a lonely corner, or become a decoration, as a water feature or tea tray.

It is a common practice to retreat and forget.

No one can say how long it will take for the stone mill to fade away from the world. The text healing, self-soothing, at least the stone mill still remains in our lives, I can point to the old stone mill, tell the children, its story and everything on this land.

Second, the sale of horses

Guizi got up at four o'clock, holding a few bundles of Pods, lifting the guillotine, the date-red horse whinnying twice. This is the last horse in the village.

Guizi's heart felt like it was stung by a long-legged bee, and it hurt. He put down the guillotine chopper in a disheveled manner, glanced at the wooden plank carriage parked next to the granary, moved to the stable, reached out and touched the horse's head, "old buddy, I'm sorry, you've been with me for seven whole years, accompanying me in the wind and rain, but ......"

Last year, Tuenzi The asphalt road was repaired, and the flat road led straight to the county town. First of all, Wu San in one morning burst back to a hand-held tractor, this iron guy into the ground deep plowing flip, the soil is soft, do not leave dregs.

Then, like a race with Wu San, the village head of the second son lock into a four-wheeler back home, usually sell tobacco and wine condiments, after the fall, take advantage of the time to earn folks tickets, a phone call, the car was immediately in place, bracts spike carp jumped dragon door into the car bucket, not long, pull back to the yard.

Cattle and horses have lost the market for plowing.

The sun slowly rose three rods high, the wife shouted a voice, "egg branding water is good, drink while hot." Guizi did not move, a moment later, the man who bought the horse came.

Yesterday, your son in the fair livestock market turned a day, only to run into a man in his fifties, blue pants legs are still stained with stars and mud, hand cupped a bamboo whip, in the sale of cattle and horses in front of the master to wander around, touching the animal's fur, counting the animal's teeth, and counting the owner did not raise good livestock. The two men squatted in a corner of the market, talking about cattle and horses, and carriages," said Guizi.

The other side lives in the mountains, tens of families in the tunnels of the land are relying on oxen and horses tilling and sowing, the machine can not be planted, basically a bias slope terraces, only livestock can go up.

Guizi's heart is a little more secure, date red horse if you go to his home is also a reason to live. Guizi stood up, threw away the cigarette butts, crushed out with his feet, tilted his neck to look at the sun, as if he had made up his mind, "Then come to my house in the morning to take it away."

When Hanzi drove a tricycle, the date-red horse in the stable uneasily with the front hooves planing the ground, one by one, the ground planing out a very deep pit, whinnying and howling, as if he knew he was about to leave the master, the reluctance to let Guizi's heart ache.

Parked in the door of the tricycle down two more bladdered men, Guizi has smelled the killing gas in their eyes.

"Just this horse ah, skinny bring back also need a lot of fertilizer to feed, in order to grow fat." The man patted the date red horse's back and said. A tall man who followed him in smashed a thick spit on the ground, "Fuck! Pick pick not much meat, net skeleton."

"What? You ...... you are not bought home to plant and pull the car?" Guizi angrily questioned the man. "Oh, you misunderstand, he is my cousin, I asked them both to help pull the horse back." The hanyou blinked.

The date-red horse raised its neck and whinnied a few times, scurrying on the ground in annoyance. When the tall man took out a belt and shone it at the horse.

"You give me stop! You are also too inhumane, this horse we do not sell! Guizi's wife jumped up and hugged the date-red horse tightly and did not let go. "Right, not for sale, you go!" Guizi gave an expulsion order. A few people cursed and left.

The couple held the jujube red horse for a long, long time not to let go. The big teardrops of the date-red horse fell on Guizi.

Third, the ears of rice on the ground

For the village, every return is a fatalistic walk.

When you get off the bus, there is a large cornfield, a yellow cow burying its head and chewing on the weeds between the ridges, and there is no cowherd in the field.

In the past, my mother was waiting at the station, but today there is no sign of her. The river is next to a hundred acres of rice paddies, a few women are picking up the ears of rice on the ground. Three or two magpies swept overhead, I took a hard breath of fresh air, lips and teeth are the flavor of rice, "Qing Er, I'm here!" My mother straightened her back and called out my breast name.

"Mom, it's cold, watch your old cold legs!" I complained, my mother carried a bamboo basket with some ears of rice. Golden spikes, drooping head, in contemplation.

Back to the mansion. Lapis lazuli wall is covered with a lot of rice, the bottom of the wall a woven bag open mouth, revealing the rice picked up.

At noon, the mother stewed red beans and rice. At the dinner table, the mother proudly said: "This rice is picked up rice ears, grinding three, the harvester is not as good as the sickle, many rice grains on the ridge stepped into the mire pity ah!

When I was eight or nine years old, with my mother in the rice paddies gleaning. The days when the water dripped into ice, we are not rich, after school, cut pigweed, swinging a four-toothed iron rake to look for sweet potatoes and peanuts in the ground, according to the lapel of a wipe, bark bark eat, the corners of the mouth are muddy.

Rice is the main goal of scavenging, picking up a gourd scoop can grind out a big mouthful of rice.

Mother three o'clock fire cooking, the sun hangs in the east mountain concave, wake us up, haphazardly pull the bowl of ballast rice, armpit clamped flat basket, mother in the front, we are in the back, a fierce into the rice paddies.

Some people come earlier, fresh shoe prints on the mud bogs are listed, painted into a light ink scroll. Other people walk through the ground, can also pick up some rice ears. The mother did not let go of a grain of rice, crushed in the mud spike, the mother squatted and carefully used her fingers to pick, every time there is a harvest.

The village is alive with hundreds of acres of paddy fields, and after the dissolution of the collective, these fields were distributed to the farmers, and according to the population, my family got three acres!

My father took out a crumpled two dollars and told my brother to go to the kiosk to play wine, and my mother fried a plate of eggs, and the family rejoiced as if it were New Year's.

I read the story in the book.

After I went to high school, the village changed rapidly, and the brick houses were lined up, and few people went to the rice paddies to scavenge. My mother was not changed to take advantage of the free time, sat a basket, in the ground over and over again bent down.

For many years, there was always such a landscape, table grains of rice, drink bottles on the road, a piece of scrap iron, and even a button, the mother quietly picked up, such as a treasure. Thrifty mother has become the benchmark of my life, whether poor or rich, I always keep a calm heart, walking the world. Not forgetting the secular gaze, stooping to pick up the ground scraps, the leftovers on the wine table packing.

In the vast land, the mother has long been growing into a full-grain rice, always shining with the charm of personality.

In the vast land, mother has long grown into a seedy rice plant, always shining with the charm of personality.