Traveling ｜ Zhang Ye: Dream Space

Text/Zhang Yan

The Niu River and the Lalin River Basin in the Northeast are located in the black soil belt of one of the three major worlds. In the past few days, the ride -haired bus all the way south from Harbin, and the golden rice fields broke into the field of vision unintentionally. Right now is the most richer season of the year. The boundless golden rice waves roll up and down, full of natural rhythm, the autumn wind rises, and it rises towards the sky.

This is an afternoon in the setting sun. We are on the way from the Phoenix Mountain in Longjiang to Wuchang. The original golden rice fields were rendered by the afterglow of the afterglow. This should be the most fantastic moment of Jinqiu's most topical and most intoxicating moment. Everyone asked to stop. As soon as the bus stopped on the side of the road, they took their mobile phone cameras and jumped out of the car.

Walking on the field, he couldn't care about the squeaky black soil stained with the shoes. Some people can't wait to leave their own style with the broad rice fields as the background; some people stroke the ears and look detailed; some people walk around on the field, as if looking for something; Farmers who swim the sickle.

I understand everyone's forgetfulness. Long live in the city's hustle and bustle of the city. I do n’t know how to do it tonight. Through the endless golden field, the rolling rice waves were facing the rolling rice waves, and the nerves seemed to be held tightly, and they had the urge to get close to.

Naturally, this is just our first contact with rice fields. In the past few days in Daoxiang, we always met with golden rice fields from time to time, and we were always dyed by rice incense. I was so ignorant of me, and it was the first time that the rice was named rice flower fragrance. I should say that this is really a first -time name. Listening to its name, it seems that there is rice incense.

Occasionally, we came to the Agricultural Industrial Park, where a grand bliss opening ceremony was being held. The blue sky was washed, the sun was shining, and the flat golden rice fields were laid in front of them. Dozens of farmers held sickle, dressed in professional labor equipment, and armed. The so -called be sickle is because the local rice grows for nearly 138 days, and it will be harvested in this season, and the farmers are used to calling it a sickle.

This was a moment of excitement, and the farmers waved the sickle cheerfully. At the beginning of the sickle, a piece of rice fell to the ground. Later, the farmers began to work in other homes, bundled the harvested rice one by one, and the orderly code was in an orderly manner. It is reported that the harvested rice is not rushed back to return, but is waiting for the decayment after natural air drying.

Undoubtedly, the sickle is the most intoxicating moment in the year. In order to usher in this moment, it is difficult to imagine how much hardships and sweats they have paid. It is also here that I know that the rice and flowers produced in the local area are different from the rice of other varieties. In order to grow and mature them, farmers often need to spend 14 hours a day to serve and work.

From the birth of a grain of rice, tracing the source, the words of our hearts are speechless, and it is endless gratitude.

For me, walking on the soft fields, facing the golden dazzling rice waves, the body and mind seemed to be truly sheltered, and they got huge peace and peace. Maybe this is related to my experience. Although I am not a child of a farm, I have never had the years when I have worked in Xiafa. However, I lived in a mines adjacent to farmland in childhood. Often autumn is the most joyful day of the year. When I walked out of the house, I hit the golden fields, catching grasshoppers, picking wild fruits, and occasionally picking up wheat ears behind the farmers. At that moment, the barren childhood seemed to be illuminated by the golden and dazzling fields.

If the golden autumn season is an open poem, the golden field is undoubtedly the most shining page of them, the most dazzling paragraph and sentence.

The golden rice waves are like the most vivid and simple images of the homeland. The full, heavy ears and wheat ears have the healing effect of moving the heartstrings. I remember that in an epic film, a hero far away from his homeland and blood -bathing field is to entrust an endless thought of his hometown with a rough big hand. Midnight dream back, sometimes listening to Mascani's first brilliant "Rural Knight" debate, and also felt that a tour was touched in the golden and dazzling fields. Among them, I can't get out anymore.

This golden autumn kept traveling between the black mountains and white water. The road extended all the time, Gesang flowers along the way were full of anger, and the boundless golden rice waves helped. I suddenly came to the end of Jinqiu and walked into the rice dream space lingering in my heart.

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