In the blink of an eye, the twenty-third day of the seventh month of the lunar calendar.

On the sixth day of the Lunar New Year, Meng Shi and Liang Zai Ah Gong watched TV, and Ah Gong asked, "When will the summer heat disperse this year?" ”

Meng Shi pinched his fingers according to Ah Gongjiao's "Finger Pushing the Heavenly Stem Chronicle", and the result was - "The beginning is on the 10th day of the first month of June, the last is on the 11th of July, and this year's summer is scattered on July 23." ”

At that time, the old and young looked at each other and smiled.

Meng Shi felt that he was very high, and Liangzai felt that his son was teachable.

The atmosphere is harmonious and beautiful.

And then......

Just last night, the old and young watched Hezhou TV and issued a "high temperature orange warning" and "high temperature heat wave forecast".

The two looked at the good-looking announcer, and on the TV they were comparing the red color that represented the continuous high temperature in the south, accompanied by the "quack" cry of the night crow, and they were speechless.

Meng Shi, for a long time, held back a sentence: "My lord, the times have changed." ”

Liang Zai Ah Gong knocked him on the head with a stick.

The old and young looked at each other, tacitly taking the weather forecast they had just read as an illusion.

Meng Shi silently tuned the channel to the opera channel.

Zhuge Liang, dressed as Yu Kui, is singing: "I am a loose person in Wollongong, and I am like a backhand in Baoding Qiankun when it comes to yin and yang." ”

A day when the heat should have dissipated.

The temperature reaches 35 degrees and will last for at least three days.

However, this kind of weather is good for drying rice.

Meng Shi spread out several volumes of historical "mats" in the courtyard.

The "mat" is made of bamboo, about one meter eight in width, about three or four meters in length, and there is a bamboo stick on both sides, which is similar to the holy decree that is magnified dozens of times.

This mat is used to dry rice, which used to be muddy in the countryside, and the rice was dried on such a bamboo mat after harvesting.

Nowadays, basically every house has a flat cement floor in front of the door, and some places are places to dry rice, so this kind of mat has long been useless.

But the UP master always has to show the audience something different, either retro or avant-garde or expensive.

For this reason, Meng Shi also invited the only well-preserved "Fangu windmill" in the village.

Due to the popularization of mechanization, since Meng Shi was in junior high school, agricultural tools such as "windmills" have been eliminated.

However, because Grandpa is more nostalgic, the mat for drying millet and this "windmill" are very well preserved.

The fan valley windmill has bellows, rockers, bodies, grain drains, air outlets and other parts, which are made of wood as a whole and rely on assembly without a single nail.

Meng Shi remembers that in the past, more than ten or twenty households shared one unit, and when processing rice, the sun-dried rice was put on top of the bucket, and then the spacer was opened, and the handle was shaken vigorously, and the grain, chaff and grass clippings floated out of the air outlet, and the full grains rolled down vertically from the mouth of the funnel and fell into the basket connected to the mouth of the funnel.

The rice harvested the day before yesterday should be dried for another afternoon.

After thoroughly drying the water, the weather is cool in the evening, and the debris is blown off with a "windmill", and it will be sent to the "rice mill" tomorrow to be hulled, and this year's early rice and new rice can be put into the warehouse.

Meng Shi poured the rice he had collected last night on the mat again.

Two bags were poured on top of each mat, and all five mats were poured, which was exactly about 1,000 catties.

Then he took a wooden rake, similar to the Bajie weapon, and spread the rice evenly on the mat.

"You speak!" Lu Jia poked his head out from behind the camera shelf and shouted to Meng Shi.

Meng Shi felt inexplicable, looked up at her, and said: "Say something about a rice meal, and when you wait for the later stage, with the flute and gourd silk, write a narration and read it slowly, wouldn't it be good." ”

Lu Jia thought about it and gave him a thumbs up.

At noon, Meng Shi chops vegetables, and Grandma cooks.

And Lu Jia volunteered to light the fire, the old-fashioned firewood stove has two stoves, and two iron soup cans are embedded in the middle of the two pots, which are used for boiling water, and can boil two hot water bottles after a meal.

Lu Jia sat between the two stoves, holding tongs to drum here and there, sweating profusely.

Meng Shi went to the well behind and picked up the watermelon that had been soaked in the morning.

Cut the watermelon, cut it in half, hand a piece to Grandma, eat a piece for yourself, and use the rest as a dish.

Then put the watermelon on the other side, insert the spoon and hand it to Lu Jia.

Lu Jia held the cold watermelon, facing the red stove, and experienced "ice and fire" for the first time in his life.

It was hot and sleepy, and Lu Jia ran to find a fish to take a nap after eating.

Meng Shi began to edit the video footage of the rice harvest in the past two days.

An hour later, Meng Shi looked at the thirty-minute duration, shook his head helplessly, and began to re-cut.

Cut out those long shots and try to make the video coherent and concise.

From the uncle's sickle to Lu Jia's sickle, and then to the "old-fashioned pedaling rice beater" used by Nian Ge to separate the rice and the pole, the camera passes over the fish digging loaches, follows the pedestrians, and sees the harvester in the rice field next door.

Meng Shi said with a smile: "The eldest brother who drives the harvester must not have seen someone harvest rice like this for several years." ”

The aunt carried a basket to deliver snacks.

A jar of syrup, some reheated buns bought in the morning, a pot of noodles.

Several people put down the sickle, and the uncle and Brother Nian discussed the plan for the second half of the year.

The fish took Lu Jia to chase the egret that was foraging in the ground.

Video of the first day of harvesting rice, end.

I'm much more satisfied this time, although it still seems that no one is watching, but at least the time is pressed to more than seven minutes, which is normal.

As for Liuxia, the comment area and barrage are complaining about the duration, and there are few people who really have the heart to watch it.

Lu Jia was really tired in the past two days, and after eating at noon, she slept until almost four o'clock in the afternoon.

When she ran to the old mansion.

Meng Shi was squatting under the eaves and smoking like an old farmer.

Lu Jia followed his gaze, looked at the yellow and clear rice in a yard, and felt a sense of swelling in his heart, this is the swelling feeling of the country and the mountains that I have beaten down.

She moved a small bench and sat down next to Meng Shi, and took out her mobile phone to face Meng Shi, "This comrade, looking at the grain in this yard, what do you feel in your heart?" ”

"Very good."

Lu Jia was not very satisfied with his reaction, and pulled him with his foot, "Have the joy of a good harvest and gratitude to nature." ”

Meng Shi slapped his thigh: "Woc, these rice are Lao Tzu!" Nature's Cow Pie! ”

Lu Jiaqiang resisted the urge to rush over and strangle him, "You give me a little normal!" ”

Meng Shi felt that at this moment, he should read a poem, but his mind was blank, except for WOC, it was Gou...

————

Because of last night's weather forecast, Liang Zai's grandfather didn't come at night.

Lu Jia's relationship with the fish quickly warmed up in the past two days, and she ran away after eating.

Quiet night.

Meng Shi was lying alone on a rocking chair on the terrace, and through the white mosquito net, he saw a bird whose name he could not name, fluttering his wings and flying through the bamboo forest.

There were two insect chirps.

At this moment, he finally remembered a poem that he could read.

"The bright moon is not frightening, and the breeze is chirping cicadas in the middle of the night. The fragrance of rice flowers says that it is a good year. Listen to the sound of frogs. ”

"Wonderful."

Meng Shi took out his mobile phone, ready to search for whether this poem had ever appeared, and suddenly saw Chen He send him a message in the afternoon.

He clicked on it.

"Lou San had a car accident and left."

Meng Shi closed his eyes and opened them again, and the words were still there.

His gaze shifted from the message.

"Can't Get Old" 800 miles of Qinchuan.

Got up from the rocking chair and felt a cigarette from his pocket.

Click Play.

Lou San's unexpectedly calm voice came.

"As far as I could see, the shadows kept approaching."

"Covering the deepest thoughts, the yellow sand is meaningless."

"The autumn wind will blow, and time will ripple."

"Concrete pierces my body, and I think I'm powerless to age."

"As far as I can see, the shadows are dense and seamless, covering the traces I have left behind."

"I'll miss you, when the last curtain of the galaxy falls."

As the last note fell, Meng Shi opened his eyes and looked up, and the galaxy seemed to make a noise, pouring out to his heart.