When I was a child, there was a lonely smoking room in front of my house. This building looks unremarkable, surrounded by old brick walls, with two rooms inside and outside, a curing barn outside, a stove and a living room inside. Above the sunken stove is a bed made of wooden sticks, and there is only a fat twisted blanket on the bare reed mat. There is a big stone in front of the door, with several black and dirty teapots and cups askew, and several cross stools wrapped in hemp skin are scattered on the bare house floor.
There is a hanging melon rack in front of the house, and long round hanging melons protrude from the rack. Coming out of the vegetable garden is an endless green tobacco field. On the tobacco pole higher than people, each tree is littered with more than a dozen leaves as big as a cattail leaf fan, which stretch out neatly into the distance in rows. The breeze blows gently, and the crystal dew rolls down from the leaves and falls on the leaves below, which will eventually turn into pieces. ...
My hometown is in the hilly area in the middle of Shandong Province, barren and paranoid for ten years. Therefore, I never thought that it would create a land of geomantic omen for growing tobacco, with a history of 400 years. The tobacco and alcohol cultivated in the workshop are famous for their bright color, rich oil and mellow fragrance. But in the past, it used to be a kind of sun-cured tobacco and dry tobacco. In the early years of the Republic of China, with the ringing of Ji Jiao Railway, foreign powers began to build tobacco purchasing stations along the railway to promote new technologies of tobacco baking and planting. Grandpa, who had been in a private school for several years, first went there with his father, built a smoking room with the money from selling iron in the pot, bought rice, stove bars, lanterns and coal, and then opened it.
In the biting January, grandpa taught his father to put small black tobacco seeds in a basin and soak them in warm water, and then put them into a small cloth bag. In order to keep the temperature and humidity, the poor family doesn't even have a stove. He simply puts a small cloth bag in a plastic bag, ties it around his thick cotton trousers, and sleeps in bed at night.
As soon as the ground thawed on February 2, grandpa took his father to clean up the bowl. This work is very delicate. Dig the ground deep first, then pull the wire, take it out of the ridge along the line, and beat it hard with a mallet to make the ridge extremely strong. Apply base fertilizer to the frame, and then stir it flat. At this time, men planted white fly-egg-shaped micro-buds on tobacco seeds with warm buttocks, mixed with fine sand and scattered them evenly in watered beds with a sieve, and carefully covered with felt grass, more carefully than a woman's fork. At noon, the sun was shining, and my father slowly opened a corner of the felt grass, observed it carefully, dug it gently with his hand, then smiled at each other and rearranged the felt grass. Soon, green shoots appeared in the border field, and after a few days, they turned green again. At this time, it needs to be thinned. Sit on the ridge, stagger your body hard, and dig out the extra roots with two fingers. It takes several times to finalize the tree. After the remaining tobacco seedlings grow to six or seven leaves, let them grow sturdily in the sun and almost start transplanting. When transplanting, first dig the pot head to a depth of about 20 cm to form a section, and then put the pile into the basket like tofu. In this way, the tobacco seedlings arrived in the field with their mothers in the spring season.
In the season of selling cigarettes, grandpa is old, and my father and helper are pushing a wheelbarrow to fill the tobacco market. That year, all kinds of tobacco plants piled up in this area, rushing headlong into it. You have to run 60 miles to the station next to the Ji Jiao Railway to sell cigarettes. Cars and carts all the way, just waiting in line for four or five miles, can not enter the venue for several days. Tobacco companies controlled by foreign forces kept prices down at will, stopped exploitation without reason, and finally got the number into the venue. Outsiders bought it at a high price, like to sell it, but they are too cheap, and they don't want to go out to queue. A few years older than him, tall and strong, he pushed a car forward with youthful vigor, but it twisted with other cars and the handlebar broke, revealing the stubble on the sharp slope. Xiao Shunza pushed on with this half handlebar. Unexpectedly, there was a commotion, and the sharp half handlebar was deeply inserted into Xiao Shunza's stomach. Suddenly, blood poured out, and my father quickly held Xiao Shunzi and finally pulled the handlebar out. The handlebar came out, but the intestines dripped out of a big booth. Hold your breath and slowly put the intestines in, and wrap the wound with your own white cloth shawl. Life is a matter of life, of course I can't help selling cigarettes. I got on the roof with a cigarette in my arms, and my father ran to the hospital while crying. Gududu bright red blood flowed down from the brown tobacco leaves and spilled all the way. There is blood, tears and sweat on Huang Cancan's tobacco leaves. Poor little Shunza finally lost his young life because of excessive blood loss.
In the year of the Great Leap Forward, the slogan "Go all out and strive for the upper reaches" was about to burst. In the critical season when tobacco leaves are concentrated after heading, it rained heavily for seven days in a row, and no one could enter the field. However, the tobacco fork layer on the hit tobacco tree is growing wildly. If it is not eradicated in time, all the nutrients in the field will be sucked away by it, and the tobacco leaves will wither and lose color and weight. It never rains but it pours, and another injury is imminent. It seems that all tobacco rods are covered with tobacco bugs overnight. Tobacco bugs are all long and green. They bite a piece of tobacco leaves, then bulge like a bow and move to other places to continue to bite greedily. Father knows that in a few days, all the tobacco leaves will become the bottom of the sieve.
The situation is urgent, and if the two evils are not eliminated, 100 mu of tobacco fields will be abandoned. My father, as the production team leader, on the one hand asked for support from his superiors, and on the other hand organized fellow villagers to form three commandos, with children touching forks, adults catching insects and women spraying drugs. After seven days of hard work, I almost took off a layer of skin to seal the victory.
The clinker steelmaking craze completely subverted the normal order and the house became a steelmaking furnace. Good tobacco leaves were thrown into Mawan and dry wells and turned into black fertilizer. My father, his heart is bleeding, and he has become a madman because of beating his chest.
"Smoke unloading furnace-"is like a strong wind in spring, and finally survived the night of reform and opening up, and tobacco farmers are looking forward to a good day. Every time I hear this cry, it is the most exciting moment for the villagers. The smoke unloader must be at night or at midnight. After the cigarettes to be unloaded need to be wetted, they are taken out and stored in the warehouse. People were gathered from their sleep. Young and middle-aged people first get into a smoking stove like a sauna, and pass out the roasted cigarettes one by one from the outside to the inside. Other men, women and children passed out like parcels, and from far to near, they were neatly discharged in the yard. After a while, tobacco sticks were scattered on the ground. Under the bright moon, like yellow gold all over the ground, the Milky Way is dotted.
"It's time to untie the tobacco leaves-"At first light, my father touched the tobacco leaves with his hand, ran to another place and touched it again, then picked up a cigarette rod and shook it all. He found that it was not as crisp as when it was freshly baked, but had a soft feeling of oily skin, and the dissolution of tobacco began. In this job, both big girls and kannika nimtragol are good at it. With neat fingers, they untied a handful of cigarettes from a cigarette rod and soon piled up into a golden mountain.
A bolt from the blue brings sorrow. On this day, my father was holding a big pile of tobacco, perhaps in a happy mood, perhaps overworked, stumbled and fell heavily. The golden tobacco leaves were covered with white foam from his father. It's a pity that he suffered a stroke and thrombosis, and he collapsed in bed from then on, and never touched the yellow smoke and * * * that caused trouble again. In the golden yellow tobacco, who can know that there is still this deep red blood, black excrement and white foam? A few years later, my father drifted away forever like a piece of colorful tobacco.
Every time I visit my father's grave, I can forget everything else, but I will definitely light three cigarettes that my father never smoked before. ...