娘是什么,娘是年;年是什么,年就是家乡那盘长满青铜斑的老石碾……小的时候,庄稼人的年,全在老碾上。除夕那天,鸡刚叫两遍,娘就穿衣起床了,无声无息地从墙上挂着的瓦罐里倒出大半碗半圆半瘪的玉米粒粒,拿起那根打狗棍兼拐棍的槐木碾棍,去村头转动老碾,碾碎那怀着春韵的袭袭腊风,迎接那无滋无味的 What is the mother, the mother is the year; what is the year, that year is the home plate covered with bronze stains old stone mill ... ... small time, the crop year, all in the old grind. New Year’s Eve that day, the chicken just called twice, the mother would dress up, quietly poured from the jar hanging from the wall half a bowl of semi-deflated corn grain, pick up the stick and hit the stick Of the Huai wood grind stick, go to the village to turn the old mill, crushing that with the rhyme of the attack on the wind, to meet that no tasteless