Courtyard House: After disbanding the Elderly Care Gang, I went to the countryside to cultivate immo

As we entered the eighth month of the lunar calendar, the weather seemed to change suddenly, with the summer heat completely subsiding overnight.

The air in Heisonggou Village was thick with a heavy, rich aroma, a mixture of hay and ripe grains.

In the fields, golden yellow, deep red, and withered brown hues are splashed together, no longer just a landscape, but a silent urging—it's time to get to work!

Early that morning, just as dawn was breaking, Hu Guangming's loud voice boomed through a loudspeaker.

Everyone in the village, young and old, who was able to walk, was pulled from their beds and stoves by the sound of the bell and the shouts, and they gathered in a dense crowd on the threshing ground.

The atmosphere was different from usual; the usual chatter and laughter were gone, replaced by a tense, tense silence, as if something was about to erupt.

Hu Guangming jumped onto that familiar broken millstone, his gaze sweeping across the entire area like a knife.

"Everyone in the village, young and old, men and women! Have you all seen it? The crops in the fields are ripe! Time waits for no one, and the weather can change in an instant! Our Heisonggou village depends on this harvest all year round! The autumn harvest is like a battle! Today, our 'autumn harvest battle' officially begins!"

"Listen up, all of you!" he began, his voice a little hoarse, but every word resounded like a hammer blow. "The autumn harvest is about fighting against the heavens for food! If we win, we'll have warm beds and plenty of rice in our bowls during winter! If we lose, we'll starve!"

"How do we fight this battle? We can't fight recklessly!" Hu Guangming's voice rose even higher. "We'll split up and work together! Those fifty or sixty mu of rice in Nanhewa are the most important thing; they're also the most delicate when fully ripe! Team Leader Wang Dali!"

"Here!" Wang Dali squeezed out of the crowd, his sleeves already rolled up to his elbows.

"Take the strongest laborers from Team One and Team Two and head straight to Nanhewa! One requirement: speed! Cut the rice, bundle it up, and bring it back as quickly as possible! I want to see all the rice in Nanhewa lying on the threshing floor before sunset today!"

"Understood!" Wang Dali roared, his neck stiff.

"Just harvesting the grain isn't enough!" Hu Guangming turned to the other side. "Hu Changgui! Have you got the threshing machine and the drying mats all ready?"

"All checked! Everything's been inspected!" Second Captain Hu Changgui quickly responded.

"Alright! You take the women and children from Team One and Team Two, along with a few clever young men, and transport the harvested rice from the paddy fields back to the threshing ground. As soon as the rice is brought back, don't wait! Put it on the threshing machine to thresh it immediately! Spread the threshed rice out to dry right away! Gather the straw and pile it up! Both the rice harvesters and the threshing workers, give it your all, no one can slack off!"

This arrangement is clear: it's an assembly line operation, and the key is to save time.

"Soybeans and grains!" Hu Guangming pointed to Tunxi. "These two are prone to pod bursting and grain shattering, respectively, and can't be delayed! Old Pao!"

Old Hu, with his pipe dangling from his lips, gave a muffled "hmm."

"You take the third and fourth teams and focus on the soybean and millet fields to the west! How to cut and harvest is up to you, you're the expert, so you decide! Just one rule: be gentle and steady, don't waste a single grain! Immediately transport the harvested crops back to dry!"

"Got it." Old Hu tapped his pipe on the sole of his shoe.

"The rest of you!" Hu Guangming scanned Lin Shengli, Li Kuiyong, and the other educated youth. "You educated youth are quick-witted and agile, so follow the 'guerrillas.' Keep a close eye on everyone, make sure they don't get exhausted, and prevent any accidents, especially when harvesting beans. Be careful not to get your eyes popped out while Wang Dali and the others are harvesting rice!"

"yes!"

"Did you all understand?" Hu Guangming shouted one last time.

"Understood!" The shout was filled with determination.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get started!"

At a command, the crowd erupted in a roar, like a flood bursting its banks, splitting into several surging torrents that rushed towards the sleeping fields. The autumn harvest in Heisonggou Village officially began its heavy and bustling curtain on this chilly dawn.

Nanhewa instantly transformed from a tranquil wetland into a boiling battlefield.

The water in the rice paddies had long been drained, and the laborers trudged through the dry, hard ground, their sickles flashing coldly in the morning light.

"Snap! Snap! Snap!"

The rhythmic cracking sounds rose and fell, the rice stalks fell to the ground, were deftly gathered in the arms, and quickly set aside.

"Hurry! Keep up! Don't stop working!"

"Be careful, don't cut off your leg!"

"Tie it up tightly, so it doesn't come undone halfway and all your effort is wasted!"

Hu Changgui's roar echoed along the field ridge. He grabbed a sickle and plunged into the field, setting an example for others.

The rice-harvesting team moved forward slowly and steadily, like a giant comb, leaving behind neat "passages" filled with rice paddies.

Almost at the same time the first bundle of rice was thrown onto the ridge, the women and children of the team used carts and carried the bundles back to the threshing ground.

Hu Changgui directed several young men to skillfully operate the threshing machine, while experienced women untied the newly arrived bundles of rice and stuffed them into the machine's greedy maw.

Suddenly, golden rice grains gushed out from the other side like a fountain, splashing into the huge basket below, while the threshed straw was ruthlessly thrown to the other side, carrying moisture and the fragrance of rice.

"Quick! This basket is full! Replace it with an empty one!"

"Take the straw away! Pile it in the haystack on the east side, don't block the machine!"

"Spread out the drying mats! Spread the freshly threshed grain evenly! Turn it over frequently!"

Women have become the main force here.

They wore headscarves of various colors and moved as nimbly as if they were dancing.

Some people were responsible for feeding the machines, some were busy moving baskets, and others squatted beside the large reed mats, spreading the wet rice grains out with wooden sticks and then raking them evenly with bamboo rakes.

Although the autumn sun isn't scorching, it's the perfect time for drying things.

The air is filled with the fresh scent of rice and the swirling dust and grass, creating a unique, busy yet reassuring aroma that belongs to the harvest season.

In the soybean fields west of the village, the laborers from the third and fourth teams were carefully harvesting soybeans.

Some of the ripe soybean pods burst open with a "pop" when shaken slightly, and the round soybeans scattered into the field.

The children, carrying small cloth bags, followed behind like treasure hunters, their eyes gleaming, specifically targeting these "deserters."

Every time he found one, he would shout with joy, even happier than if he had received New Year's money.

The cut bean stalks were carefully carried to the edge of the field and loaded onto an oxcart. The oxcart creaked and groaned as it transported load after load of bean stalks, still bearing the pods, back to the threshing ground.

There, another group of people had cleared a large open space, where bean stalks were spread out thinly to dry, waiting for the sun and autumn wind to absorb their last moisture, and then using the most primitive yet effective flail to carry out a "grain hulling".

The rice fields next to the soybean fields present a different kind of "torture".

People crawled forward in a semi-squatting position, their sickles slicing through the ground as they swiftly cut the thin stalks of rice.

Once you've cut enough for a bundle, quickly tie it together with straw to make a sturdy "millet bundle".

Time slipped away amidst this tension, exhaustion, and strangely rhythmic atmosphere.

As the sun gradually climbed higher, the golden area of ​​Nanhewa shrank significantly, the rice piles on the threshing ground grew taller and taller, and the straw stacks began to take shape.

The soybean and grain fields to the west are also being "eaten away" little by little.

At noon, people from all walks of life would hurriedly eat their lunch at the edge of the fields or the threshing ground.

Cornbread, pickled vegetable dumplings, and cooled boiled water are the best sustenance.

No one complained; everyone just wolfed down their food. Between meals, they checked in on each other's progress.

"How many were harvested over there?"

"About halfway done! If we work harder this afternoon, we can finish before dark!"

"The grains are drying in the threshing ground, but the bean stalks still need to be dried."

After a short rest, the battle resumed.

The fatigue was even greater in the afternoon, but with the goal in sight, no one was willing to slack off.

As the setting sun painted the horizon orange-red, the last rice paddy in Nanhewa finally fell amidst cheers, and the threshing machine swallowed the last bundle of rice.

Only scattered corners of the soybean and grain fields to the west remain.

The first day was a partial victory. But everyone knew that this was just the beginning.

The next day, as the morning light once again illuminated the towering stacks of rice and hay on the threshing floor, new instructions had already been issued.

Today's main objective is the potato field on the hillside.

Harvesting potatoes is more like a treasure hunt full of surprises than a simple harvest.

They worked in pairs. One person carefully dug through the soil along the furrows with a three-pronged rake, while the other followed closely behind, quickly picking up the potatoes covered in fresh, wet mud and throwing them into the basket beside them.

Some people use iron shovels and hoes, which requires even more skill in hand-eye coordination.

"Hey! There's a whole nest over here!"

"Wow! This is huge, like a chubby baby!"

"Be careful when slicing, don't slice the potatoes in half! Put the broken ones in this basket, we'll eat them later!"

Excited shouts and laughter echoed through the potato field, dispelling the chill of the late autumn morning.

Although this job is tiring on the back, the anticipation of "not knowing what I'll dig up next" makes the fatigue much less tiring.

The children were the happiest people, conducting "secondary explorations" in the fields dug by the adults. They often discovered the overlooked "little ones" or oddly shaped "potato kings," their little faces covered in mud, but their laughter was the clearest.

These small potatoes are not included in the village's total harvest. The children put the small potatoes in their own small baskets and take them home for their mothers to steam and eat.

The potatoes that were harvested were not immediately stored in the warehouse, but were transported to the open space in front of it. There, weighing them became a solemn yet lively ceremony. The large scale was already set up, and the accountant, Hu Laogen, wearing his reading glasses, held his ledger and pen, his expression solemn.

"This basket weighs 73.8 jin (approximately 36.4 kg)!"

"This basket weighs 69.5 jin!"

……

The commune members helping out called out the numbers loudly, and Hu Laogen meticulously recorded them with lightning speed. The weight of each basket of potatoes was related to the year-end work points and food rations, so there was no room for carelessness.

After being weighed, the potatoes are carried by designated personnel into a cool, well-ventilated warehouse and carefully stacked on shelves lined with dry straw to prevent them from being crushed and rotting.

The air was filled with the unique, earthy, starchy aroma of fresh potatoes. Looking at the ever-growing "mountain" of potatoes piled high in the warehouse, the commune members wore expressions of relief—their staple food for winter was secured.

When the potato fields were turned upside down, revealing fresh black soil, the grand finale of the autumn harvest finally came to the sorghum and corn, which covered the largest area and tested the most endurance.

Harvesting these two items spread the team out further, forming a long "assembly line operation".

The laborers in front wrapped themselves up tightly to prevent the sharp leaves of sorghum and corn from cutting their skin.

They plunge into sorghum or cornfields that are more than two meters high, easily cutting off the heavy sorghum ears, or pulling and twisting to break off a sturdy corn cob and throw it into the basket at their feet.

Almost at the same time the sorghum ears were removed, the "stalk clearing team" arrived.

They used thick-backed machetes or pickaxes to cut the bare sorghum stalks from the roots or dig them up by the roots.

Sturdy sorghum stalks are excellent fuel and feed.

The children stared at the sorghum stalks that hadn't yet turned yellow. As soon as they saw them, they would grab them, peel off the hard outer skin, and stuff them into their little mouths, sucking out the sweetness like they were eating sugarcane.

The corn cobs that were picked were transported back to the village, but there was no rush to thresh them.

Women and the elderly sit in the threshing ground, peeling off the outer leaves of the corn cobs, leaving only the last few husks. With their dexterity, they braid these corn cobs into long, golden "corn braids," which are then hung on special wooden frames, under the eaves, or even on tree branches to dry.

As the autumn wind blows through, the corn braids sway gently, making a rustling sound, becoming one of the most typical and moving scenes of autumn on the black soil.

When the last sorghum stalk was cut down and the last cornfield was "shaved off," the wilderness suddenly became empty and unfamiliar.

The wind blew across the newly turned black soil, which smelled of earth, carrying with it a sense of desolation after the task was completed.

In stark contrast, Heisonggou Village presented an unprecedented scene of "abundance".

After several days of intense labor, everyone felt as if their bones had been removed, they were unsteady on their feet, their hands were covered with blisters, cracks and calluses, and their backs ached so much that they dared not bend over easily.

But looking at the tangible, tangible, mountain-like harvest before him, and smelling the incredibly comforting, complex aroma of new grain, hay, and soil in the air, all his weariness seemed to find its home.

The people's faces were dark, thin, and haggard, yet they all wore an indescribable, content, and at ease smile.