August 23, 2018 16:51     National Tourism Geography Network

    The Western Hills have long been known for their melons—not watermelons nor winter melons.

    When the crops in the fields have all been harvested, leaving bare and open ground with fresh stubble, they emerge at the edges of fields and slopes. Some are emerald green, others golden yellow, some coated with a layer of white frost, lying about or rolling freely, lazily guarding the autumn under the sun. When the autumn dew and frost arrive, the melon leaves wither, the long vines lose their vitality, yet they remain plump and full, standing guard for autumn.  

    As the poem goes, "Deep in the Western Hills, I reach a cottage fair, / Where Taoism thrives—where’s the best place to repair? / Slept through nine summers free from sultry heat, / And in the third autumn, new melons I meet." The "new melons" here refer to the...

    This poem was written by a Taoist priest who lived in seclusion in the Western Hills during the Yuan Dynasty. Years of spiritual practice had made the sights and scenes of the Western Hills deeply ingrained in his soul, allowing him to effortlessly compose timeless verses. At first reading, one is struck by surprise—could this not be a painting of a rural Western Hills village? But upon closer reflection, one discerns the mystery: despite millennia of evolution, ancient times and the present feel as similar as yesterday and today. The same is true for species, and for people. The mountain remains the same mountain, the sky the same sky, only things and people change—the caprices of fate.

    Yet the Western Hills' pumpkins have persevered through the natural law of survival of the fittest to reach the present day—a true miracle. Although genetically modified and imported varieties (such as Japanese pumpkins) have flooded the market, with varying colors, shapes, and flavors, none can surpass the native pumpkins that speak to the heart and eye. The traditional wheel-shaped pumpkin, with its millennia of heritage and universally loved pure flavor, has won the hearts of the people, becoming the favorite of the Western Hills.

    As a result, the pumpkin has become an enduring sight in every village of the Western Hills, appearing along field edges, in front of houses, behind walls, and around pens. They do not occupy fertile land, nor are they picky about soil. Just scatter a few seeds, and you’re sure to reap unexpected rewards in autumn.

    The Western Hills have thin soil and little water, relying on the heavens for sustenance. In years of hardship and famine, people could only subsist on "melons and vegetables"—and the melon in question was the pumpkin. Young pumpkins were stir-fried or used as stuffing, while ripe ones were used for stewing rice, making porridge, pumpkin pies, and pumpkin soup... The memory of savoring a mouthful of steaming pumpkin porridge on a cold winter morning is still vivid, and one might well survive the entire winter on it.

    Unlike other melons with demanding requirements for water and fertilizer, pumpkins are drought-resistant and high-yielding—another example of "survival of the fittest." A tiny seed planted can sprout into a large seedling, soon covering a wide area with its sprawling vines, extending ten to twenty meters in all directions. By June, the long vines spread out, climbing up frames, over walls, and up ladders. Where there’s nowhere to climb, they simply sprawl across the grass, quickly overtaking the weeds with an almost unstoppable vigor.

    The emerald-green leaves resemble countless open umbrellas, held aloft by stems of varying heights, creating a vibrant sea of green, much like a lotus pond. Amid the rippling green, golden pumpkin flowers bloom noisily, peeking through. By July, the first flowers begin to bear fruit. Parting the dense foliage, you’ll always find a delightful surprise—tender new pumpkins, pale yellow with hints of green, hidden beneath the leaves, glossy and spotless, bright as a bride’s face or a newborn baby, so delicate you hesitate to touch them.

    I remember summer nights from childhood, when the stars gathered in great seas in the sky, children chased each other through ancient alleys, and tiny fireflies traced arcs through the night, becoming stars within reach, prompting joyful shouts. What to do with too many caught fireflies? The clever young minds thought of pumpkin vines—the hollow, transparent stems of the vines made perfect tubes. Stuffing fireflies one by one inside turned them instantly into glowing glow sticks. These magical glowing sticks captivated all the children; no matter where they hid, they couldn’t escape detection. Childhood summer nights thus shone brilliantly under the light of these glow sticks.

    Beneath the pumpkin trellises was also a paradise for children in summer—catching crickets, digging for earthworms, watching ants move homes; when tired of reading or writing, one could look up to admire the flowers and count the melons. The cool shade of the pumpkin shelters dispelled the summer heat and truly lived up to the poetic line, "Slept through nine summers free from sultry heat."

    When all the crops had been brought back to the courtyards, autumn’s star player—the pumpkin—finally made its grand entrance. Though usually hiding quietly in corners, unassuming, once gathered together, they became a magnificent sight, piled up in yards and courtyards, stacked in mounds, in all colors and shapes, big and small, bringing joy just to look at, making it feel truly like autumn.

    Ever since the pumpkins were harvested, they’ve appeared on the farmhouse table at every meal—stir-fried slices, strips, paired with striking red chilies, tender and refreshing, delicious in color, aroma, and taste, truly a fine side dish for the rural table. By September, the ripening pumpkins become sweet and starchy. Every household makes pumpkin-stewed rice, pumpkin porridge, or even simmers golden pumpkins, plump green beans, and freshly dug potatoes together in one pot, serving them as a main dish... In the cool autumn evenings of the Western Hills, these dishes carry the warmth of family life.

    This article was published in the August 2018 issue of the "Beautiful Villages" magazine. Welcome to search for and follow the WeChat public account "Beijing Beautiful Villages" to browse more information.