Rush-harvesting and Rush planting

        Since the beginning of summer, it has been hot. Watching children hide in the air-conditioning room to eat ice cream and play with their hands, I can't help but recall the glorious years of "double snatching" in summer when I was a child.

        I still remember that when my father just passed his first year of life, he worked in the township government and often went to the countryside to serve the grassroots. Because of the long distance and inconvenient transportation, he seldom went home at ordinary times. He only asked for leave for a few days to help him when he was busy in farming. On weekdays, he relied on his mother to do all the housework at home and abroad, which forced the three brothers and sisters to help his mother share the housework they could.
        
         Every time I get the news of my father's coming home, I always sit on the doorsill stone at home and stare at the end of the curved ridge of the field. Seeing my father's figure from afar, I rush to meet him. My father always brings some tomatoes or rare fruits to satisfy our appetites and make us overjoyed.
        
         At that time, most families were poor and had many children. It was a common problem that they could not eat enough, so rice was usually planted for two seasons. In early July, when the rice is ripe and harvested, the second crop rice must be planted immediately, and the seedlings must be planted before the beginning of autumn; if it is late, the harvest will be reduced, or even the harvest will be extinct. For more than 20 days, we need to fight at home or ask for the help of seven aunts and eight aunts to collect and plant again, so it's called "double snatch".
        
         Although I am still in my infancy, double snatch is a synonym for hard work in my life. Since I was 7 or 8 years old, my thin and dark figure has been left in the barren land of my hometown.
        
         In order to avoid the summer heat, Sheng Xia had to wake up in the adult's call before dawn, knead his bleary eyes, and reluctantly emerged from the full patched bed net, drank several bowls of porridge, put on sandals, followed the adult's nagging voice, and opened the prelude of "double snatch".
        
         Cool in the morning is a good time to cut rice. The fresh air is mingled with the fragrance of soil. The grass on the ridge swings slowly with the breeze and stretches. It seems that we are welcome. The crystal clear dew on the body shines like pearls in the rising sun, and drops on the back of people's feet on the ridge from time to time, conveying a refreshing coolness.
        
         In the face of golden rice, we have a clear division of labor. One group of people began to wave sickles, while the other group bent down to pull up a handful of seedlings from the rice field, put them in the paddy field to wash away the mud at the roots, and then took out a brown leaf silk, twisted it into a thin rope, tied the seedlings and left behind. In a short time, more and more rice shoots were put on the back, which looked like the soldiers in the parade ground from a distance. They were dressed in green uniforms, neat and uniform, and accepted our review.
        
         In the era of underdeveloped irrigation and water conservancy, the rice seedling field must rely on sufficient water sources. Generally, it is planted around the pond. The place with heavy mud and moisture is cool, which is exactly the paradise of leeches.
        
         At the end of the day, we came up from the rice seedling field hungry, but we found that the leeches absorbed on the calves were round and still stuck in the legs. We had to scold and drag them off our legs, find a twig, insert it into the body of the leech, put it through the intestines and turn the skin, then insert it on the ridge of the field to let the sun shine, and finally bake it dry. The reason for this is that leeches can be resurrected even if they are mortal. Only turning over can kill them.
        
         The food in the double snatch is slightly better than usual. Our parents encourage us every three to five times. After the double snatch, we will open up foreign meat for us, and make a stew of kelp or wax gourd. We are very looking forward to it.
        
         The sun rises in the East and the rain in the West. It changes in June. Sometimes it's eating. Suddenly there's a loud noise in the sky. Everyone can't help but throw down their jobs. Because the storm will come with the thunder, we have to quickly put away the rice spread on the rice field in front of the house and behind the house in the morning. Otherwise, the rice will sprout and get moldy after being wet by the rain. In the first half of the year, we will be busy. At this time, the big rice field behind the house is very busy. All the men, women, old and young people in the Bay are out. Even if there is no sun dried rice at home, they will come to help. First, use various tools to make rice into a pile, then cover it with large plastic film, and finally press on the stone to prevent it from being blown into the rain. The whole process is as urgent as a fire, and no slack is allowed. After the rice is covered, we need to help other families, and everyone will help each other automatically. In a word, we must make sure that all the rice can't get wet. If it's too late to harvest, the rice will get wet, accompanied by the tears of the hostess and the helpless sigh of the hostess.
        
         The storm came and went fast in summer, and soon it was clear again. At this time, I always felt that the rain was coming to make trouble, and the adults scolded the sky again. During the break, I took a sip of my grandfather's special herbal tea, which is made of cold boiled water, sugar and a little white vinegar. Although grandpa has been away for nearly 20 years, the taste is still unforgettable!
        
         "Mung bean popsicle! Ice cream! "From afar, the peddler of popsicles shouted and the children were agitated with the sound of bicycle bells. In order to encourage us to work hard, adults usually give us some change to satisfy our appetite. Put the popsicle in the cover of the water bottle, carefully peel off the popsicle paper, and still lick the broken ice stuck on the paper into the mouth. There is a thin layer of white frost on the surface of the popsicle, mixed with the cool feeling, and suddenly drill into the nostrils, can't wait to take a big bite, and let it melt slowly in the mouth. The popsicle of five cents is memorable!
        
         After eating, of course, we must continue to work, facing the rice field and facing the sky. The cool after the rain can't stand the tyranny of the father-in-law of the sun. The whole rice field is as hot as a steamer. The transplanters are all sweaty. The sweat under the straw hat flows into the eyes along the forehead, but they can't free their hands to wipe it. We cut the seedlings in our hands into a handful, and quickly put them into the hot mud. We bow back orderly, and see each one dressed up the paddy field.
        
         Transplanting is also a technical work. If it's not well planted, it can't survive. If it's not well planted, it's necessary to mend the tree. What's more, the most painful thing about transplanting seedlings is the waist. One day, the back pain can't be straightened up. The adults will also say: TAD horse (frog) has no neck, young child has no waist, where does young child have back pain... No one will get used to you in those days, unless you are an old man or an only child.
        
         The red sun gradually set, as if he was embarrassed all day long, and finally showed some tenderness at dusk. The sound of ploughmen shouting at the cows and quarreling over the water, and the smoke floating in the open field. The stream is gradually crowded with people on both sides. Everyone is busy washing their feet, farm tools and vegetables. The children also take the opportunity to play in the stream naked...
        
         Time flies, time flies. With the increasing degree of agricultural mechanization, this kind of special experience will never happen again, but it has become a memory integrated into the blood and bones, engraved in the heart of our generation. In retrospect, five tastes are mixed, I want to laugh, I want to cry. The hardships and bitterness in the process make me deeply understand that happiness is a struggle on the way of boundless life!