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麦香

 二维码 16
发表时间:2020-09-16 10:15

独坐窗前,清风徐来,送来缕缕麦香;极目远眺,原野广阔,已是麦熟时分。我感恩那次坚守,那些积累,那味苦甜。


星夜下的坚守


姥爷说,耕耘是辛苦的,需要日夜坚守。


已是傍晚,天色昏黄,姥爷放下饭碗,起身便走。年幼的我跟在身后,只记得这事特别重要。小麦已经到了灌浆期,需要汲取很多水分,万一有差池,收成就会有损,于是常常需要有人守夜。天空如墨,凉风习习,空气中弥漫着淡淡清香。姥爷坐在马扎上,轻哼着歌,风将歌声吹向远方,他的嘴角止不住上扬,辛勤的耕耘终于化作眼前的希望。


麦香阵阵,那片灿烂星空,让我知道了辛勤耕耘,要坚守到底,我感恩。


飞尘下的积累


姥姥说,麦子沉了,那是它积累的果实。


终于要收麦子了,我本以为可以直接磨面,却不承想,要先将麦穗与秸秆分离,大人们拿**叫枷杆的工具,拍打着麦子,麦尖飞扬,麦粒却不动如山。小孩子拿着光禿禿的秸秆编起小玩具。我好奇地问姥姥,麦粒为什么不会飞起来,她只是轻轻一笑,拍拍我的头说,“因为麦粒沉,东西多,不会飘起来,而麦尖却不一样,它没什么东西不就飞走了吗?”


麦香阵阵,我感恩那次麦尖飞扬,让我知道了要厚积薄发,积累学识。


糖浆中的苦甜


妈妈说,麦芽糖要用手扯,才会更甜美。


分离好的麦子大部分拿去磨面,只有小部分才会留下来做成糖浆。妈妈用白布盖住麦粒,等它发芽,然后放入锅中熬煮。棕色的糖浆在白气中散发着苦味,妈妈用两根棒槌缠绕糖浆,在空中拉扯,直到棕色的糖浆扯出白色的丝,接着将其放在案板上,剪成几块硬硬的糖,当作小零食。我不明白,苦的糖浆怎么会变成甜甜的糖。后来一想,大概是妈妈用手扯的缘故吧。


麦香阵阵,我感恩那味苦甜,让我知道了历尽艰苦,终会有喜悦。


有时我会想,我们不就跟麦子一样吗?麦子会用自己的身躯来感恩土地,我们不也会用行动来感恩特别的那位“他”吗?


清风依旧,麦香犹存,我在感恩中成长。


参考翻译:

Sitting alone in front of the window, the breeze is in Xu Lai, sending a wisp of wheat fragrance; As far as the eye can see, Yuan Ye is vast, and it is the time when wheat is ripe. I am grateful for the persistence, the accumulation and the bitter and sweet taste.


Perseverance under the starry night


Grandpa said that cultivation is hard and needs to be adhered to day and night.


It was evening, and the sky was yellow. Grandpa put down his job, got up and left. Young I followed behind, only remembering that it was particularly important. Wheat has reached the grain filling stage and needs to absorb a lot of water. If there is any difference, the harvest will be damaged, so people often need a vigil. The sky is like ink, the cool wind blows gently, and the air is filled with faint fragrance. My grandfather sat on Mazar, singing softly, and the wind blew the song into the distance. His mouth couldn't stop rising, and his hard work finally turned into immediate hope.


The bursts of wheat fragrance and the splendid starry sky made me know that I am grateful to work hard and stick to it.


Accumulation under flying dust


Grandma said that the wheat sank, which was the accumulated fruit.


Finally, I want to harvest the wheat. I thought I could grind the wheat directly, but I didn't want to separate the ears of wheat from the straw. The adults beat the wheat with tools called cangue poles, and the wheat tips flew, but the wheat grains didn't move like mountains. Children weave small toys with bare straw. I asked my grandmother curiously why the wheat couldn't fly. She just smiled gently and patted me on the head and said, "Because the wheat is heavy and there are many things, it won't float, but the wheat tip is different. Doesn't it fly away without anything?"


I am grateful for the wheat tip flying, which made me know how to accumulate knowledge.


Bitter sweetness in syrup


Mother said that maltose will be sweeter if it is pulled by hand.


Most of the separated wheat will be ground, and only a small part will be left to make syrup. Mother covered the wheat with a white cloth, waited for it to germinate, and then put it in a pot to boil. Brown syrup is bitter in white air. My mother wrapped the syrup with two wooden sticks and pulled it in the air until the brown syrup pulled out white silk. Then she put it on the chopping board and cut it into several hard candies as snacks. I don't understand how bitter syrup can turn into sweet sugar. Later, I thought it was probably because my mother pulled it with her hand.


There are bursts of wheat fragrance. I am grateful for the bitter and sweet taste, and let me know that there will be joy after all the hardships.


Sometimes I think, aren't we just like wheat? Wheat will be grateful to the land with its own body, and we will not be grateful to the special "he" with our actions?


The breeze is still there, the wheat fragrance still exists, and I grow up in gratitude.


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