Although the Tangba is not far away, I didn't go there much because of my lack of relatives and friends, so I didn't have a deep impression. I remember that the village is between a group of black tiles and double eaves, and there is a small street paved with thin bricks like fish ridges. There are some grocery stores on both sides at intervals, and there are few pedestrians. I still have to be wary of vicious dogs chasing and biting in the autumn wind. In fact, Dixi village has always been densely populated with houses but few passers-by. Just like walking through a number of quiet cities as an adult, it may be a visual barrier formed by the inner defense for no reason, just experiencing some ethereal happiness according to one's own wishes.
the bus stopped at the intersection of provincial highway 61 and the village, which was not the same route as I thought. I groped according to the location of WeChat, all the way to the east, passing some newly built rural houses, a gate bridge, a deserted school and a village group public sign. I carefully read the list of this year's rural subsidies posted on the next column. Although the list is dense, I can still tell at a glance that Zhao is the most popular name in the village. Further down the road, there is a north-south cement road, and the roadside waiting station is marked with three characters of Tangba Village. In my heart, I thought that this road should be the old road that I came from when I was a child, but it is much wider now. Continue to walk from the entrance of the village, and then walk on a sluice bridge. The bridge has been in disrepair for a long time, and the guardrails on both sides are incomplete. But standing at the top of the bridge, looking around, a big green river splits from west to north and south, winding around the people on the dam on the left bank, interlaced with the golden wheat fields in the low places. It seems that the endless hot wind of the week group is also intoxicated with this picture, and countless old wheat fragrant light and shadow gush out instantly, and everything becomes calm, cool and beautiful. In fact, this kind of scenery that is familiar with the soul is a journey of childish return in life, and the soul is a towering jungle or a clear spring, a favorite silhouette between parents' childhood name and running and breathing in a dream.
Turn left along the narrow village road paved with cement slats and enter the village. There are farmhouses on both sides, and there is no noise of chickens and ducks. Amid the fragrance of flowers, the village road separated in front of a chemical fertilizer shop with a bright red signboard, with one road facing south and the other heading north, with no end in sight. I hesitated for a moment, because the two separate roads were paved with gloomy cement slats, which was completely different from the scene where there was only one fish ridge and intestines. Moreover, most of the houses on the roadside were rebuilt, and the old ruins of the Ming and Qing Dynasties were replaced by hard and clean cement white walls. There was no barking under the old doors, and only their own shadows swayed wildly in the hot sun. Looking at two narrow lanes composed of doors, steps, walls and telephone poles, I am depressed about the loss of tall trees in the past, but now I must choose one to continue. I believe that the significance of this trip is more valuable than exploring the reduction of rural vegetation in rural construction. About Zhao Lantian, I first learned about it by reading the 94th edition of Dongtai City Records. In a few words, Shiyan is the hometown of Feng Daoli, a water conservancy scientist in Qing Dynasty, Tai Shuangqiu, a modern educator and Zhao Lantian. It's a pity that there is no trace of follow-up in the book. Several years later, I learned from the encyclopedia that Zhao Lantian was from Tangba, Shiyan. I learned from the auction website that some of his works were different from those in the field of children's painting. Through the celebration of Zhonghua Book Company and some information about the one they called Dou Ding, I knew that Mr. Zhao was a few full-time binding designers in the Republic of China, which made me particularly admire, but such a modern children's education was hidden by the times, and I was puzzled. On the 12th anniversary of Zhao Lantian's birth (213), Dolphin Publishing House published a set of coloring picture books entitled "Famous Hand-painted Old Paintings and New Paintings: Creative Graffiti" as a souvenir. The 433-page graffiti design of children in the Republic of China aroused my interest and inspired me to find more works of Mr. Wang on the old book network. Each one, whether it is cover, illustration or full painting, exudes a distinct flavor of the times and also represents the development track and characteristics of early children's paintings in China. However, there is very little written introduction about Mr. Wang, which is nothing more than saying how his paintings are, or about the same life as Encyclopedia. This is like a tree in the wilderness, a monk in the valley, and a long way from our secular soul. With many questions, it is necessary to know a person's history and details from his hometown.
The quiet village is not lifeless. From time to time, one or two battery cars fly by. I don't know what I'm doing in such a hurry. Maybe it's the excitement and commotion before cutting. Mature wheat in groups bowed their heads and looked forward to it side by side on the ridge beside the ditch outside the village. There were too many smiling stars in their eyes, and I vaguely smelled the fragrance of the harvest celebration in the village.
Walking slowly south according to Tangba Road marked on the satellite map, I feel that the answer from my heart is approaching, and the pace becomes lighter. Stopped at the crossroads with nine or ten groups of wall signs posted on the left and right, and took pictures with a mobile phone, one elder sister was curious about this strange behavior and went out to ask who I was looking for. I said I wanted to know about Zhao Lantian, who painted here, who was before liberation. The elder sister said that the first thing to do is to ask the older people in the village. Her surname Wang is not a local, but she got married. She said that if you go south, there are many elderly people in the butcher shop. Maybe you can ask. Thank you for your kindness. It's less than a stone's throw to the south. There is a meat shop at the T-shaped mouth, and several bundles of brown rape stalks are close to the store door. Because it's near noon, the butcher has already closed the stall, and two or three old people are sitting behind the thick and shiny meat case chatting. When I came forward to explain my purpose, everyone looked confused and answered irrelevant questions. It seems that Zhao Lantian has not been happy for fellow villagers for a long time. There are people with a look of 15 or 6 who turn around from the inside and say elegantly: Blue sky is a celebrity in our Tangba, and the painting column in the town cultural center is introduced. As for the cause and effect, we don't know much about it. I'll give you some advice. The old headmaster Zhao Wuhua is over 9 years old this year and should know something you want. The old man is behind the grain depot. Go left. There is a 3-year-old yellow bud tree in front of the door, and there is a Taihu stone in the courtyard. Hearing this speech, it's really too much for me to thank him. Because before I came in the morning, I gathered at my mother's place and said that I would go to Tangba, and there was such a person as Zhao Lantian. Mother said that there was a Zhao Wuhua in Tangba, who had attended his lectures twice. Once, he went to Xia Long Primary School to listen to his lectures in the 196s. At that time, he was about thirty or forty years old, and he was a headmaster. He was tall and strong, speaking out of turn, and he was kind. Once, I went to Tangba to attend a class since I was a child in the 197s. As for the person you mentioned, I have never heard of it. Therefore, under the circumstances, I quickly asked his name and smiled to avoid your surname Zhao. It is said that this pond dam has two streets, South Street and North Street, and another section of Stone Street is just to the east. Before liberation, it was also a town with many figures, such as Zhao Zhenqian and Zhao Lantian. The tomb of Zhao Zhenqian was newly built in the south of the village. The north corner of this south street butcher shop used to be the great temple of the Zhao Ancestral Hall. There were double archways in front of the temple, which were destroyed in the 196s and lost their genealogy. You can't ask me anything about the relationship here. Then go straight to the middle of T-street and point to the east: "You just keep walking".
Zhao Zhen? ) Lead (193-1941) was an anti-Japanese enlightened person, and there was a special record in the martyrs of Dongtai City Records. As for the ethnic relationship between Zhao Lantian and the village elders, I have no idea about the existence of genealogy and village records. After the impact of the times and historical changes, most of this kind of record-keeping culture, which relies on feudal clan relatives, has disappeared, unless someone is involved in compiling it again, but a few words of enthusiastic Zhao's guide have become a prophecy. At present, I went to find Mr. Zhao Wuhua all the way in the direction indicated. Probably, this position is in the middle of the village. There are more and more old houses, most of which are ruined. The gables and roofs are covered with dead vines and weeds, and people have already gone to the building. But from the blue bricks and tiles, it can be seen that they used to be well-off people. Looking at the fearless thick branches and fat leaves across the courtyard wall, it is inevitable that "the paths of Wu Palace are crooked with weeds, the garments of Jin are ancient dust" will be born with the feeling that ancient times are like water. If the door is still half left unlocked, it will be another taste in my heart: "Smile, comb is lonely and old". Many times, I hope it is the latter situation, and I will come back only when I have a home, and I will experience the beauty of the world in the expectation of missing. Endless waiting for life is cruel, even if the oil runs out and the lamp dries up, at least at every moment when it shines, it is warm. The peach blossoms are burning in April, and there are always some youthful feelings that move us. Although you don't hold your hand, if you are well, it will be sunny.
I didn't see any yellow buds 3 years ago after a round of grinding to the east. Instead, I found a long blue brick wall in a remote place. The high wall with green moss has a protruding wall stack every few steps, which is firm and chronological, and the road under my feet is like a thin brick fish ridge. Perhaps this is the grain depot that the guide said. Turn the corner to the east, and there is a gate tower in the center of the window wall, proudly independent, and across the road is a wide and shabby wharf. The top of the gatehouse is semi-arc-shaped, with water-brushed stones at the bottom and a huge five-pointed star protruding from the middle, which is simple and beautiful, typical of the architectural style of the fifties and sixties. When the gate opens, there is an empty cement threshing ground, with a row of white-walled warehouses standing 5 meters away in the north and south, which covers a large and rare area. If you look at it from the perspective of high-altitude satellites, it also looks abrupt and verve. Except for the collapse of part of the roof of the office building facing the street in the north of the gatehouse, there is not much damage to the appearance of the whole building. I roughly calculated that the storage scale between the two rows is about 15 square meters, which is far from that of ordinary villages. Even compared with the national standard Soviet-style warehouse at the same time, it is almost the same. It is not difficult to see that the pond dam was rich in food, developed in water transportation and important in location. The most prosperous place is the loneliest, and now it is a decadent and secular scene. Looking at the silent threshing ground, the five-pointed star still shines on the gatehouse, recalling the lively scene of people coming and going in the rural Xia Zheng unified purchase during the Dragon Boat Festival when I was a child, my heart is the most desolate, and it's really a turn of time. What would it be like to say that those rural sages who advocated the confiscation of temple property in those years were still alive? Looking all the way around the alley around the grain depot, a harvester's electric scooter came face to face, waving his horn and shouting: copper coins, copper coins, old books and paintings, bad mobile phones, bad air conditioners and bad refrigerators. Squeezing away from hiding, the scooter has gone away, leaving a series of cadence shouts echoing in the empty roadway for a long time. I thought to myself, when will this junk collection become a cross-bank shovel to pick up the pieces, and I also learned to look after the food and know all the ins and outs of this Zhuangzi. But I always feel that this cry is awkward. It is not as familiar and comfortable as "long hair and short hair, old books and newspapers". In the rush of thinking, a countryman wearing a blue and white shirt stopped laughing and said, isn't Zhao Wuhua's old headmaster's house behind you? It's amazing that there are no secrets in close contact, or that personal weird behavior is conspicuous. In short, it was not smooth. I asked the old headmaster if he was at home. A middle-aged woman came out of the kitchen with a bowl. After listening to her purpose, she said, Grandpa was taken to southern Jiangsu a few days ago and will stay for a long time. You came at an unfortunate time. I had no choice but to leave, but my heart was unwilling. I took a mobile phone to take a picture of the rockery made of several lake stones in the courtyard as a souvenir, but I still didn't see the yellow bud. When I wanted to ask about this, the woman had retreated to the back room for a while, and it was a pity that the elderly were not found on this dam and the yellow bud tree fell.
My thoughts wander between the white walls and tiles. To tell the truth, this rural roadway is very similar to that before the transformation of the city edge where I live, and even much cleaner. If the smell brought by some perennial haystacks and straws in the air is removed. Perhaps it is this breath brewed through the baptism of time that contains some things retrograde with life, some forgotten time and happiness, and jumps out of the solidified texture at a time when a heartstring touches, acting like a familiar music, the scenery of the hometown is a firefly in summer night, and it is the brilliance of the soul; Like a baby smiling in its infancy, it is a cry to your parents with all your strength, a flame, and a night when the ears of wheat can't be wrapped in darkness. This seems to be a long-awaited silence for the desire to run infinitely, which coincides with the comfort at the right time. In a flash, it seems to understand that the living method pursued by the whole life is often not worth turning a blind eye to the ordinary life that is despised by yourself. With the purpose of coming, after stumbling into a wall, it seems less urgent and important. Looking at the dense houses in front of me and the dim sky with antennas stretching vertically and horizontally overhead, I suddenly miss the Stone Street and North Street mentioned by the guide. Although the dam is small, it is not easy to find a shortcut from the north to the south between the alleys, because there are always some sudden curiosity to distract you from the road you originally wanted to take, such as a rock with faint moss and knife marks standing on its own at the intersection; A family with an open door, the courtyard is full of flowers and plants but the owner is not seen; A two-story flat-roofed building with the characteristics of the 198s, rough and worn cement railings, and the dark red and beige exterior walls are getting mottled and faded; There is also a short zhaobi behind the sloping roof, which is inlaid with terrazzo glass strips and painted with an open folding fan and a spider's web-like gossip pattern. The zhaobi seems to be the same age style as the small building, but it feels much brighter across the village road. Carving a round fan, lotus flower, fishing drum and other auspicious dark eight immortals on the eaves brick of the gate is common in the early years, and this "fan" that opens directly against the wall means the harmonious meaning of "being kind to others" Or the power to exorcise evil spirits in Wan Li? Plus a brilliant story to reverse the gossip of Gan Kun or to resolve the road rush? In short, I can't guess. Looking at the closed window of the dilapidated building near the lane, thinking about the people standing high behind the zhaobi, one happy and one sad, one good and one evil, the mystery is really not as good as writing a big blessing or throwing a rock to make each other worry and be happy. Leisure in the homes of ordinary people on the dam, through disturbing the world, catching light and catching pictures, we get more than just continuous scenery.
bypassing zhaobi's family, you should go to north street. The east-west road that appears in front of you is straight and bright. It turns out that this street and alley seem to be the same cement slab road, with almost homes on both sides, but there are still some differences when you look closely. As the ancients said, straight street leads to lane. The winding alleys here really should be this truth. No wonder you can't find a way out just now, and the problem doesn't all lie in your own uncertainty. In both cases, the street is a little wider than the straight one, and the ground at the foot is paved with two long cement slabs side by side, which is not like a strip in the middle of the roadway. Understand this thing, and then wander around places where there are not many faces on the dam door, it will not be indistinguishable from the streets. Replacing blue bricks with cement slabs is economical and practical, with smooth roads, convenient drainage, dredging and maintenance, and vaguely retains the aesthetic feeling of thick and orderly blue bricks, which seems to be incomparable in rigid pavement construction in other villages. Blue bricks cannot be recovered, but the next best thing is to be unique. To the west, a large section of white powder wall with fish scales and fine tiles retreats all painted doors and windows, which is especially quiet and casual in the sun, like this kind of street with one bright, two dark and three bays in the late Qing Dynasty and the Republic of China.