70年代,我住在渔米之乡的淮河边上,那是一个有着两千多口人的村子,村庄的名字叫陶桥。那时候,我大概是上小学三年级。学校在村子的中心。四五个村庄像四五颗棋子,以学校为中心撒落在“棋盘”上。通往每个村庄的土路,细瘦得像一根根曲里八拐的藤蔓。村庄就像结在藤蔓上失去了水分的苦瓜。村庄里的房子是清一色的土坯墙,两檐下垂的麦秸顶盖。土墙的泥坯由于长期的风吹雨淋,留下岁月苍老的刻痕。两檐的麦秸早被 In the 1970s, I lived beside the Huai River, a village of more than 2000 people, named Tao Qiao. At that time, I was probably in third grade. School in the center of the village. Forty-five villages resemble four or five pawns and sprinkle on the “chessboard” with the school as the center. The dirt road leading to each village is as thin as a vine with eight turns in the root. The village is like a bitter gourd that loses its moisture on the vine. The house in the village is an all-purpose adobe wall, with two eaves hanging over the straw roof. Earthen walls of mud blanks due to long-term wind and rain, leaving years old scars. The two eaves of the straw was early