When you get to the top of the mountain, you can see the blue sky and white clouds around you, and the trees and mountains are endless in the distance. My husband was very happy to capture the beautiful scenery, but I found a Xia Hong on the cement road not far ahead. Is there really a fairy arrival on this quiet and deserted mountain top? But when I approached, I found that the gorgeous Xia Hong was a dry dogwood. Who is drying dogwood on the top of this mountain in the middle of nowhere? With such doubts, I began to look on both sides of the road. Finally, I found a red figure on some dogwood trees on the right side of the road. As I approached, I saw an old woman in her sixties. He is of medium height, wearing a big red old sweater, his thin face is covered with years, his high cheekbones are covered with two plateau reds, and his gray hair dances in the mountain wind. She is concentrating on picking dogwood there! In the bamboo basket at her feet, the bright red dogwood shines like pearls and agates, and smiles like flowers. The old woman unhurriedly picked it, tugged at the branches, stood on tiptoe, bent down and craned her neck, never letting go of every fruit. The sun is shining on her red sweater, red face and red corner. It is so warm, quiet and peaceful.
I couldn't help walking up to her and grabbing the branch to help her pick it up. During the conversation, I learned that the old man lives in Miao Zi Village at the corner of the road ahead. Her only son works in the county, and her grandchildren go to school in the county. She picked dogwood with water and steamed bread early in the morning. Before the cold wave of Cornus officinalis dispersed, she picked it and dried it, waiting for her son to pick it up by motorcycle after work and take it back to the county seat. She said that her wife was seriously ill in bed for a long time, and her daughter-in-law was sick in her waist and legs and could not do farm work. The burden of life for a family of six falls on the shoulders of their son. She selects some subsidized household goods from Cornus officinalis from morning till night. The old man's words make me uneasy, and the hardships of mountain people's life are unimaginable. I asked my husband to choose with us. I know that even if he joins us, our strength is still insignificant, but I want my husband to know the hardships of the old woman. Through the cracks in the branches, I glanced at the old man in front of me again and found that her hands were covered with cracks. The cracks were soaked by the dark red juice of Cornus officinalis, and her seven fingers were wrapped in tape, which had long been dyed dark red. ...
It was four o'clock in the afternoon when we left the top of Xishan Mountain that day, and the old woman was still picking dogwood there. She condensed the scene of Cornus officinalis into a gorgeous mountain red, with a little desolation in aesthetics, and it was deeply imprinted in my mind from then on.
Later, every year in the late autumn, I wanted to go to the Western Hills, to find the old woman who picked dogwood, and to meet other dogwood pickers.
This autumn and winter, I went to poor villages in Fu Bao several times. I went deeper and farther into the mountain. I met many persimmons and dogwoods. Persimmon and dogwood, as fruits and medicinal materials, have completely become mountain village scenery. As the light snow and heavy snow cooled down again and again, the persimmon with ripe branches began to "bang, bang", and the bright red and full dogwood began to look haggard and slowly dried up.
"That's your intoxicating red, that's your affectionate heart. You condense the color of the sun into homesickness. " Every time I stare at the red fruit, I feel a pair of red eyes staring at me, which is full of melancholy, sadness, loneliness and waiting. ...
And I am a passer-by, not a returnee.