Father said steal steal

Father said steal steal, don't go out to fight with others, this year knot less, next year knot more. My father brought me back a pair of fruit tree clippers, and I felt like a grown man, even though I was only in fifth grade. The vines grow really fast in the growing season. The branches can grow six or seven inches in a night. The young branches are ready to eat, but they are sour, tingling, or astringent in the mouth. In the spring, the vine to the shelf, to be full of water, I am small, water can not carry full, each load of two half buckets of water, to carry six or seven times, the pit filled with water, standing under the vine waiting, slowly until the dripping time. The vine was a hollow tree, and the water rose slowly through its heart until it reached the top of each branch, which had been cut off before it was buried in the earth last winter, so that little drops of water rose from the branches, and gradually grew larger, and when the larger drops could no longer hang on the branches, they fell down, and as soon as they fell, The branches immediately gush out of a crystal water drops, the water drops shining with sunshine, like crystal diamonds. In those days, I grew up with the vine, and the vine gave me many fantasies and many pleasures. Father once said to me, to the seventh lunar month after midnight, sitting under the vine can listen to cowherd and weaver talk. I really want to listen to them, but every year on July 7 night, I always wait until after midnight to go home to sleep, wake up, the next time to listen to the cowherd and weaver talk plan to put next year, to next year on July 7, and confused to sleep, so never sat under the vine heard what Cowherd and weaver said. When I grew up, I think my father has not heard the cowherd and weaver talk, it is just a beautiful fairy tale. I still do not regret not under the vine to listen to the cowherd weaver talk, if really tried, will be disappointed, the imagination in the heart was shattered by reality, it will let me feel how sad. Did not try, did not try to always keep a good thinking in the heart. Then, when I was 19, my father died. Someone said it was not good to plant a vine in the yard, so I dug up that vine, whose roots were as thick as a man's arms. After this decades, I often dream of the vine in a dream, dream, the vine is so real, all the treetop children are hanging on the clear water drops to the neck will feel Qinxin cool, those Wang green and bright grape leaves, scattered, like a green house, father standing under the vine smiling to me said: "On the evening of July 7, sitting under the vine can listen to the cowherd and weaver girl talking."

When I woke up, no matter how many times the dream had been repeated, it felt so real to me that it was nothing like a dream. At this time, I miss my father more. I still don't know what they say is wrong with planting vines in the yard, but what's worse than losing your father at 19? Broken a cold dust veil, covered up the prosperity. Morning cry, wake up the heart. As if yesterday those across from the fingers is not time, but I those bleak memories...