In October, the frost was so thick you could almost scoop it up with a hat. The little girl pulled her hat over her head and perched on the buffalo's back, following her mother to the fields. Sweat poured down from early morning until late at night, but in the gardens, fields, and meadows, there was always a lively atmosphere filled with laughter. The joy of a bountiful harvest was evident on every face, in the cheerful greetings and calls echoing across the fields. In the deeper fields, even during harvest season, the water still barely reached the rice stalks. People often joined forces with two or three households to harvest quickly. Small boats were towed behind the harvesters to unload the bundles of ripe rice. The ducks, foraging in the fields, were very bold, often waiting for the moment when the mother lifted the stubble and dropped the harvested rice stalks to swoop in and snatch the food, messing up the rice stalks. The mother would pull up the stubble and throw it among the ducks, but they would only scatter for a moment before gathering again, searching for crabs and snails and snatching the rice stalks she had just dropped.
In the rice fields, harvested a few days ago, the straw sprouted a vibrant green. Herds of buffalo and cows leisurely licked the tender straw, oblivious to the egrets perched nonchalantly and pecking at the blood-red gulls clinging to their backsides and rumps. The water was too deep to wade into the fields, so the little girl wandered along the banks, chasing grasshoppers and crickets, and collecting the crabs and snails her mother had caught and thrown onto the shore. The buffalo-herding children, seeing the "bait," ran to gather dry straw piled on the furrows to roast the crabs and snails. The plump, black snails sizzled and cooked slowly in the straw fire. The smell of straw smoke, roasted crabs and snails, buffalo and cow dung, and mud – in short, the smell of the fields – permeated every fiber of her being, every strand of her hair, and nourished her as she grew. Harvest meals are a fleeting affair on the rice paddies, consisting of stir-fried shrimp, kohlrabi, or cabbage in fragrant lard, followed by dessert of boiled corn or a few pieces of sweet sugarcane. That's why the harvest is so important, and that's why it brings so much joy and happiness.
Years have passed. The girl is now a retired official. Her mother no longer works in the rice fields due to old age and weakness, and also because the fields have given way to emerging projects. Young and middle-aged people flock to the city to find work. The number of young buffalo herders is no longer as large as before. Only a few buffalo and cows remain in the fields, munching on straw on the concrete embankments. The fields are dotted with factories interspersed with potato and rice paddies. Every morning and evening, winding plumes of smoke rise from the fields, but they are no longer the fragrant smoke of burning straw used for grilling crabs and snails. Gone are the hurried lunches on the field edges and the soothing songs of the women that once dispelled fatigue. The girl – the retired official – tears off a page from the calendar and sighs.
Oh, October!
Linh Tam
Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/dieu-gian-di/202510/thang-muoi-oi-057092d/
Comment (0)