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我们全家去掰玉米
寒露那天一早，天还没亮透，我爸就把我叫醒了，说起来，掰玉米去。我一骨碌爬起来。掰玉米对我来说，是一年里头最带劲的事。
我们家的玉米地在村东头，过了水渠再走一截路。到的时候雾气还没散，玉米秆子在雾里立着，一棵比我高出一头还多，顶上的天花干成了灰黄色，风一吹哗啦啦地响。我爸说，夏天这些秆子还没我高，一转眼就蹿得挡人了。
我爸在地中间先划出线，我妈和我从两边往里掰。掰玉米的规矩是一只手攥住棒子，一拧一压，咔吧一声就下来了。我头一下掰得太猛，棒子是下来了，苞叶却撕了一半挂在秆子上。我妈说别急，先拧再压，要听那个响儿。我第二下就听着咔吧一声，棒子完整地落进手里，高兴得喊了一嗓子。
摸出窍门以后我就收不住了。左胳膊夹着的棒子越摞越高，摞到夹不住，就往筐里扔。我们的筐是我爸用柳条编的，带两条袢，能背。每装满一筐，我就跑到地头，把棒子倒进三轮车边的大蛇皮袋里，再背着空筐跑回来，身上轻快得很。
地当中间的玉米叶子拉胳膊，先是痒，后来有点疼。我有一回走到地头想歇，看见我爸的背影还在秆子缝里忙，就没吭声，把袖子又往上卷了卷，接着掰。
太阳升起来，雾散了，整个玉米地金黄一片。我回头数，咱们掰过的地方，秆子剩了半人高，地上一片一片的落叶，还有几个漏掉的棒子。我妈一一捡起来，说漏的这几个回家煮了吃，最甜。
中午的时候，三轮车装满了七蛇皮袋。我坐在袋子顶上，我妈在前头骑，我爸在后头扶着，玉米在袋子里挤得咯吱咯吱响。过村口，爷爷端着茶缸在那儿等，伸手进袋子掏出一个棒子，剥开看了看，说今年是好年成，粒儿真饱。
晚上我抬胳膊有点酸，胳膊上还有几道红印子，可一点都不觉得累。躺在床上我数了数，今天我一个人装了六筐。我跟我爸说明年还要接着掰，掰十筐。我爸笑，说行，那到时候给你编个大一号的筐。
Our Family Goes Corn Picking
Early on the morning of Cold Dew, before the sky had fully brightened, my dad woke me up and said, get up, we are going to pick corn. I rolled out of bed at once. For me, picking corn is the most exciting thing of the whole year.
Our corn field lies at the east end of the village, past the water ditch and a little way on. When we arrived, the morning mist had not yet lifted. The corn stalks stood in the mist, each one more than a head taller than me, the tassels on top dried to a dusty yellow, rattling in the wind. My dad said that in summer these stalks were still shorter than me, and in a blink they had shot up tall enough to hide a person.
My dad drew a line in the middle of the field first, and my mom and I started picking from both sides toward the center. The rule of picking corn is one hand gripping the ear, then twist and press at the same time, and with one crisp snap it comes off. My first pull was too wild. The ear came off, but half the husk stayed hanging on the stalk. My mom said, do not rush, twist first then press, and listen for that sound. On my second try I heard the snap, and the ear dropped whole into my hand, and I shouted with joy.
Once I caught the trick I could not stop. The ears under my left arm piled higher and higher, and when I could not hold any more I threw them into the basket. Our basket was woven by my dad from willow branches, with two straps, so it could be carried on the back. Every time one basket was full, I ran to the edge of the field and poured the ears into the big woven sack beside the tricycle, then ran back with the empty basket, light on my feet.
Corn leaves scratched my arms in the middle of the field, itchy at first, then a little sore. Once I walked to the edge of the field wanting a rest, but I saw the back of my dad still moving between the stalks, so I said nothing, rolled my sleeves up one more turn, and kept picking.
The sun rose, the mist cleared, and the whole corn field turned golden. I looked back and counted: where we had picked, the stalks stood half a person high, and fallen leaves covered the ground in patches, with a few missed ears here and there. My mom picked up every one of them and said these missed ones we will boil at home, and they taste the sweetest.
By noon the tricycle carried seven full sacks. I sat on top of the sacks, my mom riding in front, my dad steadying from behind, the corn squeezing and creaking inside the sacks. At the village entrance, Grandpa waited with a mug of tea. He reached into a sack, took out one ear, peeled the husk and looked, and said this is a good year, the kernels are truly plump.
At night my arms ached a little when I lifted them, and there were several red scratches on them, but I did not feel tired at all. Lying in bed I counted: today I alone filled six baskets. I told my dad I would keep picking next year, ten baskets. My dad laughed and said all right, then I will weave you a bigger basket for that day.
我和小军比赛掰玉米
星期六上午，邻居小军隔着墙头喊我，说两家的大人都在地里，咱俩比一场掰玉米，一人一行，从地界那儿往两头掰，谁先装满三筐谁赢。我一口就答应了。
我们两家的玉米地挨着，中间踩出来一条窄窄的地界。到了玉米地里，小军他爸用脚在地界上划了一道印子，说就从这儿起。我分到的那一行棒子又大又密，我心里得意，觉得赢定了。
开头我掰得飞快。咔吧一声接一声，棒子顺着胳膊滑下去，夹不住我就往筐里扔，扔得哐当响。掰到一半，我回头一看，小军那一行才掰了没多远，我早就超过他一大截了。我更是放开手脚，连拧都懒得拧到位，胡噜一下拽下来就算。
结果问题出在装筐上。我的筐看着满，其实棒子横七竖八，有的还架在筐沿上。我往地头倒的时候，一路跑一路掉，棒子骨碌碌滚进秆子丛里，我还得回去找。有一根滚到别人家的行里，还是小军他爸帮我捡回来的。
小军那边安安静静的。他掰一根，在筐里码一根，棒子头朝一个方向，码得服服帖帖。他往地头倒的时候，两只手端着筐，走得慢，可一个都没掉。等我装到第二筐半，他三筐已经满了，整整齐齐摞在地头的袋子边上。
我输了，坐在秆子堆上生闷气。小军他爸过来说，小子，你手不慢，掰得比他还快，就是装筐的时候毛躁。干活跟掰玉米一个理，咔吧那一下痛快，码整齐才是收成。
小军把赢来的三筐棒子倒进我们两家的公共袋里，说他答应过的，比完一起给两家装。我脸一下热了，赶紧也抱起筐来装。这回我学乖了，一根一根码，码满一筐再走，走到地头一个没掉。
中午两家大人坐在田埂上喝水，数一共装了十一筐。小军他爸说，这十一筐里，有俩小子的六筐。我听了比赢了还高兴。
回去的路上，小军跟我说，下回比装筐不比掰，我肯定还输。我说去你的，下回我肯定赢你。嘴上这么说，我心里其实服气，掰棒子要听咔吧那一声，装筐要码得整整齐齐，这两样我都得再练。
Xiao Jun and I Have a Corn Picking Contest
Saturday morning, my neighbor Xiao Jun shouted at me over the wall. The grown-ups are all in the fields, he said, let us have a corn picking contest, one row each, from the boundary line toward both ends, whoever fills three baskets first wins. I said yes without thinking.
Our two family fields touch each other, with a narrow boundary path trodden between them. When we got into the corn, Xiao Jun dad scored a line on the boundary with his foot and said, start here. The row I got had big dense ears, and I felt smug, sure the win was mine.
At the start I picked blazing fast. Snap after snap, the ears slid down under my arm, and when I could not hold more I hurled them into the basket with a clang. Halfway through, I looked back and the row of Xiao Jun had barely moved, while I was far ahead. So I let loose completely, not even twisting properly, just yanking an ear off and calling it done.
The trouble came at the basket filling. My basket looked full, but the ears lay in every direction, some balanced on the rim. When I carried one to the edge of the field, I dropped ears all along the way, rolling into the stalks, and I had to go back and hunt for them. One rolled into another family row, and Xiao Jun dad picked it up for me.
On Xiao Jun side everything was quiet. He picked one ear and placed one in the basket, all heads pointing the same way, stacked neat as can be. When he carried his to the field edge, he held the basket with both hands and walked slowly, and not a single ear fell. By the time I had filled two and a half baskets, his three were done, stacked tidy by the sacks at the edge of the field.
I lost, and sat on a pile of stalks sulking. Xiao Jun dad came over and said, kid, your hands are not slow, you pick faster than him, but you are careless when filling the basket. Work is like picking corn, the snap feels great, but stacking it neat is the harvest.
Xiao Jun poured his winning three baskets into the shared sack of our two families, saying he had promised, after the contest we load them together for both families. My face went hot all at once, and I hurried to grab a basket too. This time I learned my lesson, placing one ear at a time, and when a basket was packed I carried it out, and not one ear dropped.
At noon the grown-ups of both families sat on the field ridge drinking water, and counted eleven baskets in all. Xiao Jun dad said, six of these eleven baskets belong to the two boys. That made me happier than winning.
On the way home, Xiao Jun told me, next time we contest on basket filling and not picking, and you will still lose. I said get lost, next time I will definitely beat you. Talking tough aside, I was truly convinced. To pick an ear you listen for the snap, to fill a basket you stack it neat, and I still need practice in both.
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