乡村一迈进腊月,农家上空潜滋暗长、飘荡着一股永远挥之不去的年味。一家农户里,妇女小孩围在圆形的簸箕边,手里拿着刀,把拉得老长的雪白冻米糖断成一截截拇指般长短。外面的廊屋檐下,银辉泻地,几个五大三粗的壮汉,双手握捧,上窜下跳,左跨右蹲,在极力纵情演绎着“搭米糖”的传统手制工艺。芝麻、大豆掺杂着桂花的清新气息,在米糖外皮的包裹下,仍抑制不住逃逸出来,沁人心脾。听,灶前的铁锅里正“哗啦哗啦”地响着,似一曲动听的交响乐,有节奏、有韵律,铿锵动人。谱写此曲的乃当家主妇。 A rural into the twelfth lunar month, farmer over the potential of AIDS dark long, floating forever with a lingering taste. In a farmer’s house, women and children surrounded the round dustpan and held a knife in their hands, cutting the old, frozen white frozen rice into pieces of thumb-cut length. Outside the corridor eaves, Yinhui diarrhea, a few big three thick brawny, hands holding up, jumping up and down the left squatting, strongly indulge in the interpretation of “take rice sugar ” traditional hand craft. Sesame, soy dipped in the fresh breath of sweet-scented osmanthus, wrapped in rice bran, still can not suppress escape, refreshing. Listen, wok in front of the stove is “crashing calabash ” ringing, it seems a nice symphony, rhythmic, rhythmic, clan touching. Compose this song is a housewife.