My hometown is neither beautiful Guilin nor prosperous Shanghai, but it is entrusted with my deep homesickness.
Tongchuan, although called Tongchuan, actually does not produce copper and coal, but the word "Sichuan" is really worthy of the name. It is located between two mountains, and it looks like a shining ribbon when standing high at night. Between the two mountains, along its extension line, there is another river called Qishui River. Tongchuan's superior geographical location has given birth to generations of Tongchuan people. It is no exaggeration to say that Tongchuan is really "beautiful in mountains, water and people".
Mountain, speaking of mountains, Tongchuan is really a veritable mountain city. It has mountains on both sides. It can be said that Tongchuan has been surrounded inside. The mountains in Tongchuan are not towering peaks that suddenly appear on the flat ground, but meander for several kilometers and extend along the urban area. The peaks in Tongchuan are undulating and mountainous. Although it is not as good as the "natural barrier", it is a must just because it has been stretching for several kilometers with the urban area.
Water, although Qishui River in Tongchuan is not as good as West Lake, it was once the "mother river" of Tongchuan people. "What a beautiful scenery at that time! The water is clear and there is no pollution at all. People wash clothes and fetch water in the river. You must think it is beautiful! But I learned all these things from my mother's mouth, just some good memories. Over the years, due to people's uncontrolled discharge of pollutants and littering, the once crystal-clear river has become a stinking sewage river. I hope people care about water resources, pull the dying "mother river" back from the "line of life and death" and make memories come true.
Your Majesty, don't look at Tongchuan, which has a small area and many scenic spots. China has a red base area; Yuhua Palace, a famous summer resort; Yaowangshan, the hometown of Sun Simiao, Wang Yao; There is also the famous Daxiangshan Temple. You can experience the heroism of revolutionary soldiers in Zhao Jin; You can enjoy the ice sculptures in Yuhua Palace. You can enjoy the Wang Yao regimen in Wang Yao. You can pray for peace and prosperity in Daxiangshan Temple. Speaking of food, Tongchuan has many delicious foods, such as mutton bread in soup and China meat buns ... but the salty noodle soup in Yaoxian County of Tongchuan is the most distinctive. Salty noodle soup tastes spicy, sweaty, tough and refreshing. It can be divided into oil surface and alkali surface. Eating a bowl in the morning warms the stomach and many people like it.
I believe many people have their own unique feelings for their hometown, and so do I, which is beyond words. It is mixed with pride, love ... and of course there are some expectations. I hope its environment is fresher and its industry is more developed, because all this is because of my love for my hometown!
I hope we Tongchuan people can work together to create a better and more prosperous hometown!
Tongchuan, you are so beautiful! Tongchuan, I am proud of you.
There is no hometown in the world, only a foreign land.
Yu Guangzhong
How many people study abroad, how many people work in other places, everyone lives in a busy world, and homesickness seems to have become an emotion abandoned by the times.
In addition, where should people go to feel the taste of their hometown?
Similar high-rise buildings, the same asphalt road, everywhere seems to be like this, where can I stand homesickness?
Where is homesickness? In order to find the answer, I have been to Jiangnan.
Plum rain in the south of the Yangtze River seems to be a beautiful woman's tears, falling endlessly, lingering and wandering, and falling on the ground becomes a crystal clear and delicate rain curtain.
What a beautiful rain! But I don't like it. Won't it be boring after a long time if you are so weak and have no personality?
When I was in Jiangnan, I always missed the rain in my hometown, which was refreshing. It is vigorous and resolute, beating gongs and drums in the air a few times, and the pouring rain will rush down, just like Ma Benteng going over mountains and mountains.
Isn't it quick to get caught in this rain in hot summer? The rain in my hometown comes and goes quickly. It brings fresh and cool natural breath, and the gorgeous rainbow after the rain takes away people's inner impetuousness and anxiety.
I have been to the Yangtze River in search of that homesickness.
The Yangtze River billows and rolls into the sky.
It goes forward regardless of difficulties, is tireless and never stops. It ran to the distant Pacific Ocean, where it accomplished its great feat.
However, the deafening waves of the Yangtze River can't knock my heart. Its surging waves are strange, and its arrogant posture seems to make people stay away from it at any time.
When I look at the Yangtze River, I always think of the Yellow River in my hometown. Compared with the aggressiveness and arrogance of the Yangtze River, the Yellow River is more like a simple old farmer, calm and vigorous.
It flows quietly all the way, sometimes turning up a few yellow waves, hitting the shore and breaking into stars.
It doesn't like publicity, but quietly marches to its destination. It will go to the ocean where the sun rises and sing the hymn of life there.
It flows from ancient times to modern times, and the long history of Chinese civilization for thousands of years has precipitated into thick yellow sand in its mind.
Witness the ups and downs of many people's lives, the rise and fall of many dynasties, and the vastness of the Yellow River. How can the Yangtze River match it?
I gradually understand that maybe homesickness is flowing in the rain in my hometown or running in the river in my hometown. It never stops, nor does not fade away.
From the time we were born, it was hidden in our blood, which made us meet homesickness unexpectedly at a certain moment.
Tao Tao Weishui can't tell the grandeur of Qin Huang and Wu Han, nor can the rolling mountains and lush trees draw her beautiful face. When I set foot on this heavy land, deep homesickness unconsciously filled my heart, and I wanted to shout to heaven and earth: "Xianyang, my beloved hometown!" "
It has a long history and splendid culture. The birthplace of Qin and Han culture, the capital of the Eleventh Dynasty, Gyeonggi, the literati of past dynasties, and the historical palace buildings, needless to say, are magnificent; Needless to say, xian yangqiao's blood and tears written by Du Fu, the freehand description of "gloomy and rugged" in Li Shangyin's poems, and the detailed description of Du Mu's "Shu, a Chu" are even more colorful, and the Xianyang Lake scenic spot alone makes people infinitely intoxicated! Although it is man-made, you can feel the grandeur of the prosperous dynasty, and you can also enjoy poems and paintings in the misty rain. It can be said that history and modernity are compatible, and nature and humanity are mutually infiltrated.
Backed by Wulingyuan, the great lake formed by the confluence of Weihe River and Fenghe River system is magnificent. Stop and watch, the waters are vast and the water resources are abundant. Rolling the Weihe River, the footprints of the ancients have passed away for thousands of years; The quiet Xianyang Lake has left a little joy for people in the new era. Standing by the lake, there are tender grass and flowers everywhere, there is a faint fragrance everywhere, and there is a warm breeze everywhere. I am a native of love the water, and water can make my soul more peaceful, especially the water in my hometown, which bears the charm of Qin and Han Dynasties and my heartfelt joy and pride in my hometown.
In spring, the water surface is flat, the grass sprouts, the wicker blows green, the sun is warm, and the calm lake surface reflects the shadows of pavilions, making the lake more agile; In summer, Wan Li is full of smoke and waves, and the cool water vapor blows on the face, which makes people feel the coolness from the bottom of their hearts. Standing on the upstairs of Wei Qing, looking around, Yangliu is like Tingzhou, which makes people very open-minded; In autumn and winter, leaves fall on the lake, covered with snow, and the lake is covered with flowers and new quilts, which also presents a different kind of beauty. The breeze blew, and the water was sparkling like silver and broken gold. Fish swim around in the water. They play with each other, as if people were amused. The afterglow of the sun dyed the watery sky golden. It was so beautiful that I couldn't help picking up a stone to find out. As the stone sinks into the water, there are ripples on the water and ripples in my heart. The clear water of Xianyang Lake permeates the hearts of the children of the ancient city and Xianyang!
As night falls and the lights are on, people who have been busy for a day have already had dinner, sharing their day's life in groups of three or five, exchanging work experience, * * * discussing with each other, solving problems together and learning from each other, and the children are twittering around. What a harmonious picture of life!
Unconsciously, the stars climbed into the sky, and the stars in the sky sprinkled on this land. I looked at the starry sky and silently made a wish that my hometown would always be so beautiful. I also hope that I can learn more knowledge, describe my hometown with more beautiful words, and let more people know and love her. ...
There are several low wooden bridges by a clear river, and several bare stones are lying lazily by the river, with euphemistic insects singing in the cracks. Xiaoqiaodu is just a tour, mixed with mottled memories, deposited in the past silhouette. Oh, my hometown!
With nostalgic excitement, the traces of the past are strung together, and after the tears are blurred, they shine again. They always play gorgeous colors on the sunny land in their hearts. They are as moving as light smoke and fog, staggered and clear. ...
When the sun sets, pedestrians are in twos and threes. God, this arrogant guy seems to be shy by the attractive sunset, and his tender cheeks can't help blushing. This moment belongs to dusk and hometown.
pons
The quiet bridge in my hometown. Graceful posture is like a girl dancing lightly in the wind, and graceful posture is like a rainbow drinking water by the stream. The afterglow is bright, but the bridge seems to be vicissitudes and aging. Rust is the precipitation of history, and scars are the brand of years. When I went to Qiu Lai in the spring, everything changed, everything was like a passing cloud, only you-forever unchanged. The setting sun is like blood, the willows are lingering, the residual light is hidden in the water, and the microwave is sparkling; Smoke curled up in the kitchen chimney, and the breeze slowly greeted the tired birds who came home late. Fish swim happily under the bridge, and people walk happily on the bridge. At this time, the bridge was fixed into a painting by the sunset.
Flowing water
At dusk, the bridge looked so comfortable, and the red sunset dyed the river red. Whispering of fish arouses cheerful ripples, as well as bright pebbles, barefoot children playing in the water. The river hummed beautiful folk songs leisurely, as if to put on a bright red scarf for my hometown. By the river, a white-haired old man slowly packed his fishing gear and sang a little song, full of hope of harvest. At this moment, the running water was written into a song by the sunset.
family
Simple and naive hometown people, poetic rhythm. The bright-eyed peasant girl, with a crisp local accent, looked forward to a beautiful smile and danced a beautiful "washing dance" with the running water. After a hard day's work, the farmers lay on the hillside at sunset, with their arms on their pillows and a handful of green bristlegrass in their hands, quietly looking at the endless rice fields, always expecting a bumper harvest in their hearts, so all the tired Hua Song laughed. Smoke from the kitchen rose slowly into the sky. At this moment, people are interpreted as a poem by the sunset.
When I look at the distant sky with high clouds and light winds; When I smell the familiar fragrance of the earth; When I hear the sweet songs of orioles in my hometown … I always think-this is my hometown! The ancient houses outlined by a brush, colorful blue bricks and green tiles, such as a mirror of Bibotan, fragrant rape flowers, hazy misty rain, the noise of frogs, and the whispering of old cows … This is my hometown!
Hometown is always the most familiar and nostalgic center. ...
The authentic breakfast shop in Ganzhou is the most prosperous center in the morning. From 5 am to 90 am, this small shop is still hard to find. Grandma used to say that Ganzhou people are prosperous, and the more prosperous the central area, the more prosperous it will be. The elderly in Ganzhou are used to the traditional and authentic taste of Ganzhou; Some young people recall the taste of childhood; There are children, mostly brought by grandparents. Everyone is at the same table. It's easy to speak Ganzhou dialect. They all live nearby. The next time we meet in the street, we will become mature people by saying hello. These decades of small shops are still only the simplest wooden tables and stools. Maybe the desktop is uneven, or the leaves are slightly yellow, but it doesn't matter. What everyone comes to eat is a taste and a feeling. This authentic traditional flavor can still be remembered after many years. Usually, there are fewer and fewer such authentic Ganzhou breakfast shops on the street. I remember three yuan for a big bowl of mixed noodles, fifty cents for a meat bag, a small bowl of stew pie soup decorated with several chowder, and golden fried rice fruit ... it was very interesting.
I remember going to Ganzhou Park when I was a child. There are lush green banyan trees and promenade pavilions, which will not be boring even in summer. I like to eat hot tofu sold by the old woman under the big banyan tree. The old woman picks two buckets of tofu to the park every day. The lid of the bucket is wrapped in cotton cloth, and the tofu in the bucket is always hot. A simple white foam bowl is filled with three tablespoons of sparkling tofu and two tablespoons of bright sugar. This taste is unforgettable. The old woman always has a smile on her face and asks me kindly, "Son, is sugar sweet enough?" "I always smile and nod:" That's enough, that's enough, thank you, grandma. "Of course, what is more memorable is that feeling. I will always smile when I recall.
When I was young, there were several magnolia trees in the Olympic Square at the entrance of the kindergarten. When the flowers bloom, grandpa always takes me to play under the tree after school, and there are flowers with me. I got lost, jumped up looking for milk and ran around. Occasionally, when it is windy, a few small flowers will fall. I like to pick up the bud that seems to be blooming, hoping to wait for it to bloom only for me, waiting for the moment when it blooms. I always put it carefully in my pocket and protect this bud with my hands. When I take my hand out of my pocket, it will smell for a long time. Magnolia trees are very common in Ganzhou. You don't need to look for this fragrance. When the flowers bloom, they will naturally give you a touch of milky fragrance. You don't need anything in return. You just need to cherish it. Is this the best thing?
Homesickness melts into a smell, which I remember most. ...
The excellent composition of nostalgia 6 sauerkraut bamboo shoots is a very delicious dish, and it is also a must-have for meals at home. Dark blue sauerkraut and pale yellow bamboo shoots are intertwined, and some golden three-layer meat is dotted among them. The color tone alone is enough to make people linger for three feet, and the taste is even more fascinating. Fresh and tender taste and bitter taste make people memorable. If even the soup is mixed with white rice without a drop left, it will be enough for you to eat another bowl. The unique delicacy of bamboo shoots in my hometown is undoubtedly my "homesickness".
The mountain behind my hometown is a green bamboo forest, which belongs to the whole village and is my childhood paradise. There, it not only brought me the delicious food on the tip of my tongue, the fun of my childhood, but also the temperature of the whole house. There, my deep homesickness is rippling.
I remember when I was a child, I often went up the mountain with my grandmother and dug bamboo shoots with a big hoe. The bamboos on the mountain are not neatly arranged, but scattered and endless, but I prefer this, because it is interesting to climb up the mountain and get stuck on the bamboo pole lying under your feet, and it is common to stumble occasionally. Grandma is a good cook. She can always tell where there are new bamboo shoots at a glance. Tender fresh bamboo shoots usually show only a small horn, or even a small horn, but grandma can always find with her eyes that we can often harvest them in a short time.
What about me? It runs all over the mountain, "studying" all kinds of things-or picking a few bamboo leaves and putting them in the stream, watching them follow Shui Piao; Or get into the weeds beside the bamboo forest and meet the magical plant Bidens bipinnata, which can stick to clothes and make the trouser legs covered with small thorns. The most interesting thing is to find insects in the forest-turning stones to dig earthworms, or looking for ant nests in layers of yellow bamboo leaves, and sometimes even killing mosquitoes has become fun. I always like to pat my hands full of blood and show off in front of my grandmother ... The sun shines on my silly face through layers of green bamboo leaves. That bamboo forest is full of my deep homesickness.
In a year, there is always a sour taste of bamboo shoots in the village. In spring, I often hear my grandmother say that "a few thunders will make bamboo shoots eat"; There are bamboo shoots and green bamboo shoots in summer; Eat winter bamboo shoots in winter; Even if it is not the season of bamboo shoots, there are dried bamboo shoots and pickled bamboo shoots. Sometimes the bamboo shoots are dug up too much, and brothers want to go back to their small homes, so they will share them and take them home. Whenever there is a holiday, fathers will go back to their hometown together, which is the happiest moment of the old house. The steaming hot pot is steaming white, which makes the house warm. Everyone sat around, eating the bamboo shoots harvested by grandma and chatting about the changes at home. In the thick fragrance of bamboo shoots, I felt everyone's nostalgia.
I ate bamboo shoots again tonight, but I don't feel tired because it has a strong hometown flavor.
Hometown has always been a strange word to me.
This time in Dongyang, I went to visit the old house, the blue tile stone wall, a muddy road, and the wind blew to raise clouds of dust. That's really an old house. The cracks in the stone wall are full of weeds. There are still traces of rain sliding on the sloping roof.
Grandpa pushed open the copper wooden door and there was a "squeak". The house is small, with a patio in the middle and a vegetable garden around it. It's probably deserted here. Nobody grows vegetables. Grandpa uses it to raise chickens.
The woodcarving at home is the "baby" of grandpa. Hovering over the beam is a golden dragon, and the other is a tiger. The radian of the line is just right and beautiful. Every animal seems to be endowed with a soul. The peony in the door frame is warm and deep. Blowing away the dust, the woodcarving reveals a faint coolness, like the depth added by years. Grandpa knows the name of each woodcarving. The name is elegant, but unfortunately I have forgotten it. Dad said, "when I was a child, I always thought the yard was very big." Now that I think about it, that's it. "
Grandpa said a lot with a smile. Grandpa's restaurant, probably at that time, he and grandpa went to the store to help grandpa. The reward is a handful of peanuts. Unfortunately, the store has already changed its owner and name, but time allows grandpa to continue to choose brewing. The old house is next to the shop. Three generations have lived here.
My aunt was born in this house, and my grandfather did not hesitate to point to the house full of waste wood that could not be opened. Dad used to fish and raise chickens here. There are chickens here, which are fat and flexible, but they are not afraid of people. They are singing, flapping their wings and making noise. Although it looks funny, it is particularly lively and kind. I tease them and they peck at me. As soon as four chickens came, they flapped their wings and their feathers fell all over the floor. Seeing them in high spirits, I ran away quickly.
Grandpa burned the crock chicken in the evening, which was in his hand. That chicken is the fattest and biggest one caught from the old house. Just use a clay pot and simmer in water until the skin is smooth and tender. Without any seasoning, a spoonful of salt is enough. Incense came out of the oil and continued to enter my nose without stint. The evening breeze rubs into the belly of the native chicken and wanders unscrupulously. I was anxious to try it, and my little grandfather told me to wait patiently. Time is the most abundant thing here and the most precious thing.
Time is like the last night breeze in the sunset stroking my old house, and the red wooden door creaked shut. The bronze lock has also been closed. This place will be demolished soon. The past will be locked by time. Wood carvings, in fact, many of them were pried and stolen. The old house is also dilapidated. But these are not important, there are still wood carvings, and the crock chicken is as delicious as ever. A few chickens are still flying carefree. People are there, and love is there. It's hard to say whether the years have changed, changed or remained the same. I can't feel what I used to look like. But now, my hometown is here, my feelings are there, my time is here, and I am here. Blue tile stone walls, muddy roads, the wind blowing, raising bursts of dust, bringing deep homesickness.