And cattle related to the past

A cow walked quietly.Large cattle breathing heavy walking, walking slowly.His father was carrying a plow or other farm implements walk behind ox, his face filled with haggard, looked back bend.Surrounded by a quiet, heavy cattle hoof collision path with the sound of breaking inherent in the quiet countryside.This is a unique time for me and my father in the birds chirping in the morning and the violet dusk, to the fields or open space views back to the small farm house, I often days when Mama Liang, pulled the cows go to the fields go, then pulled his father to the home of another uncle cow head in the closing jacket.I helped my father plow, to cow wearing halter, tied the reins, father fasten rope cattle, fasten your tripe belt loop and rope, began plowing up.I took the cows go in the furrows, walking on the banks of the child, his father “was autumn”, “autumn was” yelling, loud voice broke the solitude of the fields, dispelled my hazy sleep.Father raised the whip from time to time to throw a few flowers whip crisp, crisp whip like to spend my New Year firecrackers lit, swirling over the field, to the serene sky split open one new hole.I was pushing or pulling hard cattle, so cattle set foot on the banks of the child, bowed his head and measure the distance in my footsteps and banks son with his eyes, a little inattentive, his father would call “risk” and “heavy” sometimes provoke my father reprimanded meal.Father waving a whip crying cow, while their feet Hu Chuaizhuo plow base.To the edge of a farm, his father stumble with the body in one hand and lift the plow in one hand and grabbed the rope loop cow, dragging a long mouth accent, cadence shouted: “Er – back.”I quickly turned around and pull off the cow, a cow promote the furrow set foot on the banks of child.Father put down the plow, let the cows a little rest, he took the opportunity to use rubbing dirt on the soles spade, plow back the grass poked with a whip, then Fuxia Shen son, pick up the grass to throw the edge of the road, etc. bring back the belongings dry firewood.Father constantly yelling, loud and high-pitched voice, in the morning, in this land over rough smelled, and therefore the whole village comes alive.The day was dawning, and people are also small road gradually more.Fields farm work people have sprung up, their heads bowed like a father, watching the land, waving his hand tools sharp and shiny, looking moist fertile ground for the seeds of the dream, and then grow their own cereals mid Mancang more than the pure and holy dream.Such a simple ideal of life has exhausted their lifetime, their simple living, hard to walk with, both tried to write his own life in the spring and in the dust of years, no regrets.Sun all day long from them barefoot over, its sinister traces of branded engraved on their reddish-brown face and chest back.When the last sun engulfed their skinny thin shadow, day labor and it must end, my father unloaded the set when twilight was approaching.In the evening the village, smoke curl, twilight wild Courtyard, the entire village in the shadow of twilight seem simple decency.I take the cows go home in a small way, cattle heavy breathing stroking my back.Tired and weary I took a chill through sweat and hunger, I saw the lights of a small courtyard rises, thinking of his mother made hot meals, mind hastily, Si Jin grabbed sluggish large cattle his way home.Home leash cattle, wiping sweat strike, strike wash face, sitting on the steps of the courtyard, the body has melted, to see his mother busy in the light meal, watch his father by the dim light wiping tools.Pain in the foot resting nowhere, I really want to sleep early.(Read the article Net: WWW.sanwen.COM) to a ridge a ridge plow finally finished in the large cattle tottering steps, father, uncle and uncle hurry autumn, my father would wake me up early, put wheat led Aquilegia.Chilly morning, I was walking in the fields wearing Jiaao.Ground shadows scattered, only to hear the sound of crying animals come and go rough on the field, greeted the children down wheat seed sounds hastily, heavily, in either a wheat was rocked to “brush” ringing, dial seed whip around swinging, tapping with a thin sheet of columbine, issued crisp sound, occasionally mixed with the sound of tractors.Various sounds together into one, as the tide swept over my head, a long roundabout.Great people waving columbines, while those who said gossip, I do not feel lonely.Because of the many, often called the father in the family uncles help, a piece of land, there forty-five animals while labor.Pour wheat seed to advance to prepare the people to see either a closer, ran down seed, then ran back to the second group of good wheat seed bowl, pour on to the next Aquilegia.Sometimes this fall Aquilegia not complete, the next building has no seeds, because the impatient and slow, often wheat seed will spread outside the columbine, indispensable to the big people’s rebuke and scold.This time, I wanted to grow up quickly, to leave here to go outside, people leave this heavy and depressing place, was gradually on the germination of a new idea, a new will on the more faith in casting to the more tough.The sun came out, the fog gradually scattered.Father shook Aquilegia, stop calling me “pulled” “lift the” beast, and the sound from light to heavy, from small to big, from mild to severe, I have carefully Shihou cow.Cattle sometimes lose control, his father beat it with a whip, it can bear a few steps away.On one occasion, his father beat whipping cattle fell heavily on my fragile shoulders, I Ziyaliezui pain, tears in his eyes swirling.Undressed home, a red fingers thick slanting edge like a snake lying on the shoulder.Unforgettable memories of pain, I would like to play mind to escape from here.However, the father was simple and sincere to his feet move along this piece of land.Father often at noon Xieshang, roll an old pipe down, put on a straw hat, carrying a hoe onto the edge of a field.Father dig the ground to plow his head did not hit the ground or where Hu base, brown land shines father brown face.Like the sweat hanging line, a large wet clothes on the back, firmly attached to the back of his barren, gray layers of sweat appeared on clothes.Noon the field quiet, even insects also calls into hiding.From afar, silent father, lonely figure, towering alone, like the reflection of trees in water clearly outline but emaciated.He’s like a little white sail on a sea journey, to make a withdrawal of people’s attention, makes melancholy.I often stood in the village after the soil beam, two-hand flared, take in the mouth, shouting themselves hoarse father was home for dinner.The cry is still clearly still, I miss the sound of tearing the heart and lungs.I love my father, as he loves this land as.Father loves the heart and soul of this land, no matter what kind of excitement and joy to his father, to his father how much or whether it fresh wounds and pain, my father always consistent breathe the pure land of breath , dedicated true to his life coordinates.Keep a promise like he usually does not give up, like a devout believer of mind “Potala Palace” three knock nine worship, in his body I saw the spirit of the ascetic.As exhausted as he took the life of this tour ox carts full in this land struggling to moving forward with.But someone put that life as a “pastoral”, perhaps those men of letters after a career sinister and worldly hustle and bustle, mental and physical exhaustion, occasional work, a very small amount of labor, it might have made him temporarily forget the troubles, and access to spiritual liberation and enjoyment aloof.But my father was not a poet, his long years of painstaking land lying in his living space is definitely not “idyllic” type, but suffering.Suffering makes his tall body premature stoop-shouldered, and suffering makes him live in poverty, ragged, suffering makes him ill afford only son moaning, suffering so that he does not get the respect of others and endure humiliation, suffering so that he had to stand in this land with extraordinary perseverance to accept new suffering.However, many can not make the suffering father from the land, said the land was his father’s roots, his roots growing in the land where.The vast vast land of the achievements of his father’s life, but also his father accepted everything, including his fresh ideas, including his perverse and biased, including his suffering endured and the vision of a happy life, and his many unfinished dream, and his shriveled body.It’s all deeply embedded in the earth, embedded in the years to bridge the.Rye is the father of this land, I deeply understand this difficult and painful watch.Many of the details of the Pentium in my blood flowing, flowing into my unforgettable memories and thoughts of his old.