Flowers bloom in the spring
Jiao Yujie
In recent days, I have been constantly seeing photos of spring flowers in the WeChat group, and my heart is suddenly startled, wandering among the paper piles and forgetting the solar terms in confusion. Is spring about to return? There are really people who waste spring scenery like me in this world! After several times of self-reproach, I made an appointment with my friends, and I must hold on to Shaoguang and go for an outing in the flower sea.
huahai is a flower landscape of several hundred acres in Fiona Fang, which was built by the local government several years ago by a beach head higher than the downstream reservoir, in order to develop tourism. It used to be a wasteland with lush rivers and willows and weeds. Later, the water level of the Yellow River rose. Although the north side of the Yellow River was immersed in the water for half a year, the river willows were also extremely moist, and the pitching side grew wildly, growing into countless trees and gathering into forests. At the crisscross of stagnant water, there are more reeds and cattails, which are overwhelming and have become a natural barrier to the north of the flower sea. The south barrier of the flower sea is a terrace that rises in turn and suddenly rises above the viewing road. It is planted with ash, cloves and the like, which can not only shade, but also see flowers, which is a unique place for designers.
There are three roads leading into the Flower Sea. The farthest one is at the west entrance of the Flower Sea, extending from the colorful red sandstone cliff in front of the so-called Shili Gallery, crossing the ancient city bridge, and at the foot is a corner of the Flower Sea that is gradually widening. The most romantic entrance is the north entrance of Huahai. At the place where Huahai land reaches into the middle of the river, a bridge is skillfully built. If it flies over a clear river, it will connect the riverside road on the north bank with the Huahai on the south bank. I vaguely remember that the official asked for the name of the bridge. As time passed, the initial name of the bridge was forgotten. Anyway, the people called it Rainbow Bridge. The white arch, like a rainbow lying on a river, floats in from here, like a fairy. Can it be unromantic and unhappy?
Our journey to Huahai starts from the south bank of Taiji Bridge, goes from east to west, passes through Qingshiji and Shuiche Park, and reaches Huahai. As soon as we arrived at the sightseeing road, a few people had already breathed the breath of spring from the weeping willows in a single row beside the road. Willows drooping in the breeze, with prominent leaf buds, fluffy, light yellow, gently brushed with the wind, that graceful posture, unreasonably provocative mood, no wonder the ancients called it a dancer's waist. After a few steps, cherry blossoms in pink and Tanchun in white outside are lined up on both sides of the sightseeing road, and people have always waved a slightly bitter and sweet aroma. From here on, the spring is more lively, with golden winter jasmine, white magnolia with water yellow to the extreme, and apricot blossoms as numerous as stars all over the sky laughing from the branches. Accompanying music is just thousands of bee choruses that can be heard from far away. However, the dancers are still dancing from one bud to the other, busy little bees.
Watching all kinds of flowers and plants along the way, listening to the seagulls flying and crying on the green river, we suddenly stepped into the sea of flowers. Huahai is the land that gradually descends from the sightseeing road to the north. Standing outside a winding colored sidewalk beside the barrier of willow and reed at the water's edge, I lifted my eyes and looked out. In previous years, tulips, gladiolus, verbena and other flowers were planted in different seasons according to the inflorescence along the slope. However, when we rushed into this place, it was the vast and empty land and the clusters of flowers and seedlings on the ground that reflected in the eyes of seeking. I'm a little slow in wait for a while. In my heart, there is a mourning word for spring in Huanggu: "Where does spring return?" Lonely no road, if someone knows where to go in spring, call back to live together ... "Looking at the gardeners who spread the film in the distance, it took a long time to react. According to Hehuang, it should be early spring here now.
In the flower sea in early spring, everything is budding, not to mention that the wicker bears golden buds, the peony bears red buds, and the peony bears purple stems. This is the Tulip Festival scheduled for mid-April, and the tulips eagerly awaited by the urban and rural people are just a fat main stem and three or four broad leaves. However, there are only some waterside flowers that take up all the sunshine. On the low flower stalks, flowers of different colors bloom in twos and threes, giving people a kind of joy that the first spring comes early in Xiangyang. Close to the flowers of different colors, Huang Cancan seems to be penetrating into the light, white and fair as if spitting out light fog, and red as if flowing out rouge ... All kinds of colors are so pure, so pure, where is this flower, it is really a group of innocent smiling faces of children.
after all, the vernal equinox has just passed, and there are still many flower seedlings that have just been cultivated on the surface. Looking up, on the land without flowers and trees, only agile snipes are jumping, long-tailed gray magpies are flying by, and the magpies jumping while walking are looking for food, which seems a bit wide and empty. At this time, there is no need to rush around here, scrambling. Just three or two close friends, wearing a spring day, bathing in the spring breeze, shouldering nothing, walking idly, plain and plain. I don't want to walk on the stone pier by the tree. After a short rest, a topic is finished. When I want to walk, I wander on the path by the tree. At this moment, it's okay to express a few opinions, say the epidemic, sigh, and talk about the years. Naturally, it's just the most inappropriate for officials to envy money and get involved in some worldly material desires.
of course, walking in this vibrant place, we naturally have a relaxed mood of floating in the wilderness, which means plain. In the jungle in the middle of the west side of Rainbow Bridge alone, thousands of elms and willows stand upright, and their crowns are connected into one piece, just like the same branch, while the trees are independent and commanding. Obviously, they were planted artificially in those years and grew into this battle. What do you think is a natural landscape made in heaven. Seeing this, people can't help but think about doing morning exercises at the edge of the forest in the morning, drinking tea under the forest in the afternoon and reading in the shade in the evening. As for the trail on the east side of the Rainbow Bridge, it is flickering, and the flowering period is hidden in the depths of the flowers, which is also a place where the antelope hangs its horns and there is no trace to be found. This is still the best place to sit alone all day and think about those mysterious thoughts.
Our three best friends walked in a slightly empty and elegant sea of flowers, and occasionally remembered verbena, gladiolus, what kind of carnation flowers were blooming, and Huang Juhua, which was connected with the sunset glow ... We exchanged smiles and words, realized the spring and autumn of life, exchanged the passing of years, and looked forward to the prosperity and prosperity of tomorrow.
The forest is picturesque
Ren Suiping
In winter and spring, the land is sparsely forested.
The patches are sparse, open and elegant, and can be used for painting.
The sparse forests that can be painted are mostly poplars. Poplar sprouted in spring, summer was gloomy, and gold leaves rustled in early autumn, until after several frosts, the dazzling dance of gold leaves fell into the embrace of the earth. In winter, the white poplar forest is washed away and stands quietly. In Shan Ye, on the slope, to the south of the village, it is silent with the winter field.
if you have leisure in winter, you can walk slowly out of the village lane and enjoy a piece of sparse forest alone.
the "sparseness" of sparse forests lies in its sparseness and elegance.
The dense forest is impenetrable, dense and deep, giving people mystery and conjecture. The deep forest always reminds people of Kawabata Yasunari's writing, which is dense and deep, and seems to contain a touch of sadness, and it is somewhat timid. And sparse forest, with the meaning of openness and sparseness, is easily associated with Huang Tingjian's and Mi Fei's calligraphy. It is emotional and has a sense of openness, which makes people feel a little leisure in a strong place. This leisure means that Xin Qiji's poems are open-minded and cheerful, and there is a leisurely interest in essays in the late Ming Dynasty. It is like the spring morning sun shining obliquely from the mountains and spreading sparse forest all over, and that warmth is filled with the forest.
The sparse forest in winter is suitable for waiting for a snow.
when snow falls, it always turns over from the back of the mountain. After noon, the whole sky is misty, and the eaves of the tiles are low. At this time, a person sits alone in the sparse forest in the mountains, and Shan Ye is silent. Only the wind is moving. If the footsteps of dreams are rustling, they gently brush your face, cross your sleeves, and overflow your ankles, and trickle toward the lower village. People sitting alone in the mountains must have a book in their hands at the moment, an old book, like an old story, which is mottled but has a dense plot. So they turn the pages idly, turn over the old story, and taste it. When I looked up, I saw snowflakes turning over from the other side of the mountain, spreading magnificently. If the words were in droves, they would spread over Shan Ye. The wind fell asleep, and in the ravine, it was as quiet as a virgin. The sheep are awake, coming from the cliff, the snowflakes running in Shan Ye.
At this time, I don't think about anything and do nothing, so I quietly look at Shan Ye and the distant sky in Shan Ye. Snowflakes are full and diffuse, like an ancient painting, which is ancient and harmonious, and falls on the curtain of the sky.
In the sparse forest behind us, at this time, the flag is held high collectively, and the snowflakes woven obliquely are hunting flags or bookmarks inserted obliquely on the earth album.
The sparse forest in spring, soaked by deep winter snow, crackles in the morning sunshine, and those buds that gave birth to a winter are showing the secret of vigorous life in the spring breeze. At this time, sitting alone in the Woods is like drinking fragrant teas.
that peach blossom smells like tea.
Bend down gently, put your nose close to the peach branches, and the fragrance will linger all over you and me, between the collars, at the cuffs, in the nose, between the heart, and in every gesture. The wind woke up gently, and the bones of Han Han made a sound again, like good tea, blooming in the lips, and the aroma was pregnant with time, sweet and fragrant. I always like to look for the real life in tea. In fact, a life full of interest is also tea. Pu 'er, which has been fermented for many years, has a trace of sweetness and a vague bitterness. Bitterness and sweetness are the true taste of life.
true taste is good, true taste can restore the true meaning of life, and true taste can make the soul reveal fragrance. In those years, I wandered around the north and south of the river because of words. Ruggedness is the true taste of the north, and the beauty is the true taste of the water town. Only words with real flavor have fragrance, and they wander between the heart.
Just like this moment, my soul is in this sparse forest, in the luster of every tree that seems to be awake, in every careless birdsong between branches, in a flying figure, in the intoxication of a flower.
Pinellia is blooming, and I am slightly drunk. I like such a good time, and I like to give the story in my heart to the vast Shan Ye, to the past, and to another person who cherishes life.
sparse forest patches, patches of true meaning, a little expensive.
I remember my mother
Du Gang
It's another spring when apricot blossoms bloom, and I don't see my mother walking with her cane. Mom, I have been away from you for 365 days and nights, and your voice and smile are always hidden in front of my eyes.
When I went back to Xiaowan several times in my dreams, I always saw you hunched over and holding a shovel. In the small garden on the west side of our old yard, I pulled out a few grasses, seven-leaf chrysanthemum, morning glory, industrious bees and butterflies dancing among the flowers, and spent the leisure and lonely years with you alone at home.
Several times in my dreams, I still remember that my lover Shuqin and I were with you, and my grandson Yuze was pushing a wheelchair. We walked through one garden after another in Linxia Red Garden, among trees and peonies. From time to time, you approached the hydrangea-like purple peony, smelling the flowers, listening to the honey talk and watching the butterfly dance ... You love flowers, and peony flowers are your favorite. You said that when I was a child, there were several nests of Melaleuca Peony in Yujiayao's maiden's garden, which were cared for by the whole family, and the peony always bloomed as scheduled year after year.
I have been sitting on the kang in my dreams for several times, and I always see you scratching the sheets and mattresses on the kang from time to time with your deformed and rough hands, for fear that something unclean will stick to you. The buttons on your cardigan are so delicate and well-proportioned, the quilts on the kang are always neatly folded, the windowsill is always cleaned, and the needles and threads are always obedient in the basket, so you can't see the mess. All your life, you always loved cleanliness until you slept on the kang in your later years, and you always wiped it with your hands when you opened your eyes, so you lived a clean life.
Several times in my dreams, when I woke up under the oil lamp, I still saw you leaning against the kang wall of a high room, listening to the snoring of my children one after another, with a thousand layers of cloth soles. Later, I asked, it's so late at night, why don't you sleep? You told me that once my eldest brother said that when he was a child, he went to school to race with his classmates, for fear that his shoes with bare feet would not live up to expectations. When he was carrying shoes, he beat his classmates. You silently swore that no matter how hard and tired he was, no matter how difficult his family was, he must let his dolls wear decent shoes, so that wearing shoes could beat others better. Since then, when it's cloudy and rainy and you can't work in the fields, you tear down old clothes and cut old cloth and make cloth shoes with homemade paste. I remember when I was a child, you plastered cloth stickers all over the edge and wall of the kang. Yueshun, Xiaomei, Mangmang and Honghong and I used chalk to scribble on them pictures like cats and dogs, and played them as ready-made blackboards. People with many dolls in the village often give them hard-made cloth stickers and cut some suitable shoes with newspapers. In the whole village, except Gounapo, I have four milks, my third mother's mother, and my queer brother's outer milk. You are handy. Every household here in Ningcha has all kinds of shoes of different sizes cut by you.
I slept on the kang in my dream several times and listened to you talk about her family. How old your grandfather is, how diligent your father is, how kind your eldest brother is, how studious your second brother is, and your cousin who is far away in Inner Mongolia, the little girl who is near Dujiaping, the niece of Meiying who is far away in Jinchang, the nephew of Yinhu who is away from home, the nephew of Yonglu in Lanzhou, and your second brother's children Yiner, Lei Ying, Wenying, and just ... Jing Gou's aunt, Zhechuan's aunt, Baiyangwan's aunt, Gaozhuang's uncle, and his uncle who is away from home ... You can tell their tree rings and nicknames by slowly talk for the moment. You told me over and over again about the holes in the earthen kiln at your family's home, the grand view field, the big orchard, the old sour pear tree in front of the door, and the tombs halfway up the mountain. I listened to it again and again in my sleep ... In your later years, you lived alone and happily by remembering your loved ones and thinking about your family.
several times in my dreams, I went back to Laozi and Zhuangzi. On the uphill kang, I always saw a dignified old lady leaning against the window wall, leaning on the pillow, listening to the broadcast of the cloth box hanging on the wall and connected to the ground wire, watching the humble iron brazier smoking wisps of firewood on the edge of the kang, while sipping brown sugar and water as dark.