Walnut

one day a girl gave me a walnut. Inside is a note. I looked at the walnut shell and thought of something I hadn't thought of for a long time.

Walnut ripens at the height of summer. In fact, because of people's impatience, people began to taste the fragrance of walnuts as early as July when walnut trees produced walnut blossoms. I still remember that Liu Shu, the neighbor opposite the door, would lift his sleeves and climb up the stout walnut tree in front of his house. He stood on the branch and pedaled the branches hard, and a lot of walnut blossoms fell like loose flowers. It was one of the happiest times for children. Walnut blossoms are not flowers, but a string of roots covered with green spikes. Just came to Beijing, I have not seen poplar, so that the University of nationalities full of poplar flowers as walnut blossoms, I can not help but a surprise, but a little lonely after careful identification. At that time, I was carrying a plastic bag and squatting on the ground to pick up the fallen walnut blossoms and put them in the bag. It was not until he was stuffed with two whole bags that he returned with pride on his face. When I got home, I stroked out the ears of walnut blossoms one by one, leaving only dark green roots, which can be boiled and eaten cold. Because of the addition of soy sauce and vinegar, the root is usually black. A few years later, I saw a plate of walnut blossoms in a cold dish before dinner in a restaurant in my hometown. I put a mouthful of walnut blossoms into my mouth with a happy heart. The taste is not strange, but there is a strange taste in the mouth. At that time, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't seen a green walnut root for a long time. For several years, people no longer shake walnut trees, and children pick up walnut blossoms. The walnut blossoms blown by the wind were rolled out of black juice by the car tires and then swept to the side of the road by sanitation workers.

in mid-August, they threw sticks into the air and cracked a lot of walnuts and cracked its turquoise shell. Yes, most people don't know that walnuts are green like those summers. In summer at that time, without computers and air conditioners, the sun crept lazily through the curtains and lay quietly on my father's lap. It was a time of deep sleep in the midsummer afternoon, while my father and I hid in the fan greedily peeling walnuts. At that time, the clamps were not bundled and sold because farmers at that time did not bother to scrape off the green skin so that people could taste the freshness of summer. Father will use a fruit knife to precisely insert the gap between the two petals of the walnut and gently twist it into two halves. I don't care that the fresh yellow-green skin will ooze the juice of green ink and dye my fingers black. I just crush the walnuts in two, dig them open, and peel off the yellowish seed coat, which is the tender white flesh that some people have never seen in their lives.

one afternoon, my father and I could finish two bags of walnuts. Every year, we eat up the walnuts sent by the students whose father has graduated. Walnuts were so attractive to my father and me that even when my father went out drinking at night-- as the father of an alcoholic-- his mother called him to tell him that he had bought fresh walnuts at home, and he would quit the wine bureau and hurry home. Even after his mother lied to him several times, he couldn't resist the temptation.

Mother is always picky. When buying walnuts, they must be oiled, and they must also avoid buying kami, a kind of walnuts that are difficult to peel when they are stuck in their shells. So I mastered a skill I was proud of-peeling off all the seed coats twice. First, take off a large piece of the largest area on the back, and then gently tear off the skin in the gully along the lines on the front of the walnut. Second, start from both sides of the walnut and tear off all the rest along the heel. Perhaps for the speed of peeling walnuts, mother peeling walnuts is very hasty. She just peeled off a large piece, leaving a little bit of skin that was difficult to peel, which she would ignore. As the most meticulous walnut eater in my family, I can't stand even a little skin. At that time, my mother peeled my walnut. I had to check it up and down several times to peel off the remaining skin. It's impossible to peel it. Even if you break the walnut, you have to peel it off. Because I stubbornly believe that when the walnut with the fragrance of summer is thrown into the mouth, burst between the lips and teeth, soaking out infinite crispness and holiness, there is no room for a little bitterness. Holy. Walnuts are holy. Even if its flesh blackens my hands, it won't wash off for a week; even if its seed coat is embedded in my fingers, it will be yellow for more than ten days. But after I peeled off all the dirty appearance, its white, its flawless, is holy.

later, ah, in a city where I could not see a walnut tree for hundreds of miles, I looked at the bleak afterglow of the sunset and took the walnut given to me by others. I knew that if I stayed alone for too long, I couldn't help thinking of something. I realized that I hadn't eaten fresh walnuts for too long. Since then, there is only winter and summer in my hometown, but there is no spring and autumn. Unfortunately, my winter and summer, catch up with the snow, but always miss the walnut season.

Mother knows that I never disdain to eat dried walnuts. When I was a child, I tried to peel off the withered skin of a dried walnut, but it had already been glued, so I had to give it up. How pathetic it seems to me that most people in the world swallow the bitter yellow skin and the yellowed walnut meat for the so-called "nutrition". So a month after I left my hometown, my mother anxiously watched the walnuts mature and put them on the market, and then estimated that when the walnuts were at their best, she went to the market to buy more than ten jin of fresh walnuts and carried them up to the sixth floor twice. Sit on the stool and scrape off the green skin one by one with a knife, making your hands black and blue. Then she washed all the walnuts, bagged them, and frozen them to the bottom of the refrigerator.

return home in winter. With Happy together and California dream, ringing in my headphones, I looked silently at the white snow along the winding mountain road. My suitcase is getting heavier every year. When I got home, my mother unpacked my bags and hurriedly opened the newly bought stove for me, waiting for it to warm up a little bit. Mother took off her apron, went to the bottom of the refrigerator and took out the frozen walnuts, and thawed them on the edge of the fire. Then sit on a chair one meter away from me, clip it one by one with a clamp, crush it, peel it off with your fingernails, accumulate a lot of yellowed walnut meat little by little, and bring it to me at once.

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so I don't care anymore. Pass, whether the walnut is peeled clean.

the refrigerator tried its best to keep the walnut fresh but lost its crispness. Clumsily, my mother left me a little taste of summer in winter. Maybe my mother missed the summer a few years ago. she was used to stripping her fingers black, building blocks out a lot of walnuts with a little yellow skin in the white, and then dividing them into two portions, standing up, holding them in their hands, and mischievously stuffing them into his father's mouth, then walked up to me and gently put them on my hand. I took the walnut from my mother but lost the desire to play with her. I don't know that from then on or earlier, I was no longer so serious about peeling walnuts, and I could no longer sit on the bench all afternoon and peel it with my father. I chewed on the not-so-sweet walnuts and sat on the sofa farther away from them, but I could see them. I remembered that a few years ago, not so far away, these walnuts would have been fed into my mouth. Then my mind pictured my father leaning back on the sofa, I sitting in the swivel chair and my mother thawing walnuts by the fire. Although the winter at that time was harsh, I didn't think it was cold in the house. I felt warm and sour in my heart.

it turns out that it is not necessary to eat walnuts with a little bitterness.

now I look at the dry, small walnut shells that do not belong to my hometown and fantasize about peeling walnuts for a girl like a mother because I don't want to stain her white hands. At that time, she will remember that it is not just walnuts that are about walnuts.

but at that time, I would probably forget the reason why I didn't eat walnut skin, along with the melancholy past of the complicated period. But I think I will remember the mother who bent over and stuffed walnuts into the refrigerator, and walnuts and notes from my youth.