Calumet wind took it sank together with the years in the past years.But it is a verb in me, live in the childhood memories.It is a symbol of that era, so I had to touch the real. An east-west Fen River in its arms sporadically scattered some tile-roofed house, south Lianzhui Cheng piece of my home village flood phase, smoke rising where my folks lived.Rural, farmer’s life in the 1970s as that era, like lean, like a farmer’s day in saline crops bowed head.Calumet in the day when they like water scarcity broth was undoubtedly their spiritual lives of a flagpole, high upon the most conspicuous place. Calumet has almost become a symbol hometown folk to: the neck, the belt, you can see the white head scarf Yang Du’s Guzhuo.I am well aware of the significance of home Calumet farmer’s son, as the crop is no water, no village in the morning crowing of the cock, and the woman did not boil a pot of rice on the water.It was not catching no digging flex heart, than cover the prickly heat poison flower in the day ahead corpuscles. Copper bowl, woody tobacco stems, jade cigarette holder, hung between tobacco stems and tobacco pouch mouthpiece to put to the shaking of.Tobacco pouch like structure of strong country folk physique, rough, slightly clumsy, but in their thick hands magically transpiration from a circle of smoke, smoke wrapped layers of their body, drunk their hearts.Zhuang Huren fall of the sun will rise in a circle of smoke in the lane, the day will go far approached the pit voice. Speaking of smoking posture, I think of the “Dream of Red Mansions” in Jia Baoyu a riddle: heaven and earth two slim, Langgan festival had the honor to watch out for.Luan Crane letter must Ningdi sound good to sigh A God.Say is smoking with tobacco pouch.Baoyu hand tobacco stems, cigarette ignition reminder of the lane, is well placed to exploit.Smokeless tobacco pouch scoop in a few years, hand cigarette packets across a few clicks Cishi their heart like a mirror.Even after sucking a few mouthfuls of smoke pot, a bag of smoke exhaustion a few days, they measured the experience with precise figures.At this gem reminder to them like they usually always described as superfluous phrase “go around Jiexiu Pingyao,” also approximates superfluous. The country is home to eat two meals of.In the evening, according to the afterglow of sunset on that bulldozers pimple next to the front of my house stone mill, the man squatting on the ground pumping pipe down into a stone statue bathed.Farmer would use to measure the feeling of sun, almost at the same time, out of the door from the street folk to hand end of Haiwan, or stripped to the waist, wearing a double-breasted or T-shirt, squatting on the ground, put a neat and quick while chatting sea bowl of rice eaten, the Haiwan a put down to the feet, they took out a tobacco pouch from his waist, or pulled out from the neckline in Calumet, paddled Yanghuogou (home matches in possession called Yang Huo), toward the bowl in flames that moment, puffed, much more strenuous than smoking cigarettes, probably because of the long tobacco stems sake.Other people Couguo head asking for a light, at the time, very, a farmer is not wasted, the province could save fire Chai Jingui, which is oppressed poor farmer is summed up a long experience.Forget encounter with smoke, tall will be speaking in their own voice roar Po Yi or children, to the house Nayan.In a patriarchal family is the most productive breeding of bacteria, it can not be set to NO.Up until the smoke in the mouth spat.Then, surrounded by men, women, and children of a curl of smoke rising, Laoke sound, talk about laughter, spat in the midst of the sound waves off the evening sun. Between the edge of the ridge, trees river, country folk in the fields will always be an integral part of the landscape: hand tobacco stems posture, demeanor mouth with the cigarette holder, knock Smokeless action on brick or stone.Tired, roar on Liang Sangzi to a few words Shanxi Clapper.They will always be the fields of color flow, less them, will thin the field, the crops will be lonely. Sweet potato, when played back Potato, farmer ushered in their winter.Leisure body board down, the heart will idle down.Finally firewood around, sitting on the kang do not look at the sun into smoking, this laid-back a year so a few days before the wheel.To see country folk Chuaizhe Calumet channeling the door, usually I go to the same year-year-old brother were home, a door, take off your shoes.Shangkang.Bata to smoke out on, when a piece of smoke transpiration up, not too warm and the house was a warmth spread.Pro-between kind of neighborhood, only to find in the years ahead, the subsequent years is hard to find. They are pipe down drunk, drunk drunk I was their demeanor.I often nestled in the corner of the white picket fence in warm, quietly watching them quietly drunk appearance, in the faint light of a kerosene lamp, look in the not too bright light in the tobacco rod and cigarette holder hanging from the tobacco pouch, I reckon this in mind, in that thick pins that are less delicate embroidery work, the woman hidden in mind how much, how many unknown hidden story. Jujube yard tall and lush, lingering coiled branches almost covered the windows of my house hemp paper.Grandpa sat in the shadow of the tree into smoking.Sunshine spread down through the cracks of the leaves, desultory, twinkling, white Yang Du grandfather’s turban, shirt buttons down the front, large crotch pants, jump on the square mouth shoes to go jump.Grandpa often walk in God in the midst of the smoke, eyes often looked tobacco pouch, eyes showing little warmth northern man, and finally, stroking those touched countless embroidery work, I know, my grandfather wanted to grandma, and a think about twenty years.No wonder Grandpa like Calumet, refused to say how any of my aunt for some years has been to replace the worn tobacco pouch that.Tobacco pouch significance grandfather, not just tools, where the body fragrant grandmother, grandfather there with two decades to remember the happy times. In the night lacquer paint, worm in mice corner Gala Li began unscrupulous activities, playing downtown on the ground, surrounded by silence, even the air asleep, did not feel my grandfather, my grandfather gave thoughts of sleep gone into captivity.Grandpa did not feel, in a fit of turn over the past toss fold, work out Calumet pillow, a quilt to take the body, to aim at, Gouzhuo back, burning his lonely sound in Bata, moonlight through the windows of paper spread in the house, like a grandfather autumn fields leftover cut a red sorghum, pestle in the moonlight cold night was calm. Grandpa lengthen the time a bag of smoke, the grandfather of the night is in this elongated pipe down in the boil Mozhao. Years old was removed in Grandpa, do not miss the old Grandpa Grandma.After Wugu six have been married aunt, grandmother grandpa strong summer sun just thoughts.Reticent grandfather in a bag and the bag of pipe down, round and round smoke releasing his lonely.Only he knows smoke.Grandpa’s heart is full of lonely climb, the heart began to colic, when pain medication can no longer slow down, Grandpa fierce smoke until there are no more smoke.The villagers say Grandpa to die choking smoke.But I know not. Grandpa is gone, with his grandmother went to the Calumet.Departures grandfather, lying in the coffin, could not move smoke cigarettes, tobacco pouch on the father grandfather’s bedside, it is like the grandfather lying, fixed look, lying down in the form of a thing, it’s that been lying with, never woke up. Grandpa went, from the village rarely see Yang Du hoop white turban, wearing a double-breasted jacket, big crotch pants country folk, and rarely see a tobacco pouch. Up to now, no longer see home Calumet, and it is difficult to see the lane, in the true sense of the.In fact, with the popularity of cigarettes in the village, Calumet has been phasing out the home arena.I just do not understand: Is it a thing must appear with the disappearance of a thing as it costs? Marginalized home in the village, if not a sporadic random scattered tile-roofed house, no field colorful bustling, no thinning weeding, winnowing Reaper country folk, you can call the village?When the village loses its unique features, “village” it really is a lying dictionary of words, no one living in the land to do it for the interpretation of the image of the. As I stood in the modern, with infinite memory eyes look at this years, is very clear grandfather, country folk, Calumet, and drunk each other’s demeanor.But he, they, it, along with the sun and the moon is very far away.