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近日收到同学的一封E-mail,他说,我们在中学时代,对馒头的饥饿远远大于对知识的饥饿。一句话勾起了我对馒头的情感。在上个世纪70年代,吃一餐馒头对于我们山村孩子来说,简直就是“过年”。盼过年,主要盼的是杀猪吃肉、放鞭炮、穿新衣、吃馒头。腊月一到,春节的气息就开始在山坳里弥漫。奶奶颠着小脚,从楼阁上把冬储的小麦一升一升地搬下来,放在大木盆里仔细地用清水淘净,然后晒干。金黄的小麦经过秋冬的沉睡,在冬天的暖阳里舒展开来,尽情地吮着太阳的乳汁。我常常和奶奶蹲在晒席边,驱赶那些蹑手蹑脚前来偷食的小鸟们。眼前
Recently, I received an e-mail from my classmate. He said that in the middle school, hunger for bread was far greater than hunger for knowledge. A word aroused my feelings on the bread. In the 1970s, a meal of bread for our village children, it is simply “New Year”. Looking forward to the New Year, the main hope is to kill pigs eat meat, firecrackers, wearing new clothes, eating bread. As the twelfth lunar month arrived, the atmosphere of the Spring Festival began to permeate the cove. Grandma top of the feet, from the pavilion winter wheat crop liters one liter to move down, carefully in the tub with Amoy clean net, and then dried. After the fall and winter of golden wheat sleep in the warm winter wintry stretch, enjoy sucking the sun’s milk. I often sit in the sun with my grandmother, driving those who stampede to steal food before the birds. Immediate