When it comes to mulberry picking, scholars naturally think of the beautiful and intelligent Luofu girl. On the one hand, they marvel at her beauty, and on the other hand, they admire her intelligence. The entanglement not only maintained his personal dignity, but also poetically praised the hard-working life.
The sericulture production in my hometown flourished in the 1980s. First, mulberry seedlings were planted all over the mountains and plains. After one or two years, the varieties were improved and superior varieties were grafted. As soon as spring arrives, the improved mulberry trees sprout and grow leaves, filling the world with a sea of ??green. The children chased each other in small groups through the mulberry forest to pick mulberries. The high-quality mulberries were big, sweet, and shiny. After the spring rain, it is spotless. You can pick it off and pop it into your mouth. The juicy mulberries melt immediately and are sweet to the heart. In the peak season, you can carry a basket to pick mulberries. Mulberries can be used as medicine to benefit the kidneys. When brewing wine, add some rock sugar. The taste is fresh and refreshing. It is a rare and best wine.
The most poetic thing is picking mulberry leaves. The big and thick mulberry leaves will make a sizzling sound when you reach out to pick them. Several people picked at the same time and played a symphony. The red hands that shuttled between the branches and leaves, although not as soft and comfortable as Luofu, were clearly dancing, like the frequent nods of swans and like the peacocks. Shy and passionate. The picked mulberry leaves are carried in baskets or big baskets. The emerald-like hills entrust the green dream of picking mulberry leaves.
Occasionally, there are years when planning is not good enough, and there are not enough mulberry leaves grown at home, so you have to go to the cliffs to pick wild mulberry leaves. This is mostly a monopoly for men or quasi-men. It was an errand that was equally poetic but also a bit more dangerous and exciting. That year, my brother and I went to pick wild mulberry leaves. We climbed rocks and walls, then climbed up tall wild mulberry trees, cut down their branches, picked the mulberry leaves and packed them in backpacks. In order to pick more, we often had to Put a bulging bag on the backpack that was filled with mulberry leaves, and then climb up the wall while carrying it. Once, the pockets on my backpack were not fastened and I fell off the cliff. I watched the bag filled with mulberry leaves bounce down the cliff, until finally the bag was smashed, and the flying mulberry leaves showed that the bag had been shattered into pieces. Fortunately, I was still firmly holding on to an old pine tree on the edge of the cliff, and I was safe and sound.
The silkworm babies that were waiting for feeding finally began to spin silk after four sleeps. They wrap themselves up carefully, and the white cocoon makes people naturally think of the white silver. We naturally thought that we would not have to worry about the tuition fees for the next period, and thought of the bright smiles of our father and mother.
Looking back now, it was a poetic day! But occasionally I recall the beads of sweat oozing out from the corners of my mother's face, and it is inevitable that a sense of sadness wells up in my heart amidst the poetry.