迈进五月的门槛,大街小巷便弥漫着诱人的粽香。清晨看到一位佝偻着腰的阿婆坐在她的小驴车旁卖粽子,小毛驴脖子上戴着的铃儿不时的随着它头的摇晃唱着婉转动听的歌。看着阿婆腰间手工缝制的彝兜(我的老家称围腰为彝兜),我仿佛看到阿奶用彝兜兜着冒热气香喷喷的粽子,踩着悠悠的马铃声一步一步朝我走来。在那个靠马车来完成交通运输的年代,阿爸的马车便是我儿时的摇篮。阿奶家就在通往县城的公路边,阿爸的马车每每一经 May threshold, the streets filled with attractive dumplings incense. Early in the morning to see a dauntless lady sat in her donkey cart selling dumplings, little donkey neck wearing jingle from time to time with its head shaking sang melodious song. Watching her hand-sewn Yibao (my hometown was called Yi-pocket), I used to see Y-milk with Yi’s steaming dumplings and walking step by step on my longing Come. In the era of transportation by carriage, Abba’s carriage was the cradle of my childhood. A milk home on the road leading to the county, Abba’s carriage often