Open a stack of paper, drive away the loneliness of life, and write down the faint joy. There is no wind and rain in the world of pen and ink. Soft music and soothing strokes touch spotless rice paper. It cleared up and the sun shone on the windowsill. Outside the window, Dianthus rockery, green trees and red flowers ... all these are made of paper. Write down some feelings and worries at will, chat and relieve inner emptiness.
In this weather, I often think of Jiangnan. Paddy fields, water towns, weeping willows, cicadas singing ... all haunt me.
Northland, in a deep definition, is always desolate. Lonely smoke in the desert, sunset in the long river, old yellow sand blowing on the huqin pipa, accompanied by sunset. Most of them are atmospheric, wild and rough, and few are delicate, gentle and tender.
I have been away from Jiangnan for many years, but in my blood, the memory of Jiangnan becomes clearer and clearer with the passage of time.
I like to wander in the fields in the south of the Yangtze River and revel in the simple and constant changes of yellow and green. Warm wind blows gently, and green wheat seedlings are accumulating nutrients and growing sturdily. Soon, as soon as the rape blossoms opened, the bees began to be busy and the wheat seedlings began to head. When the rape blossoms fall, the ears of wheat are gradually full and shake their heads in the wind. Shake it, it gradually turns pale yellow, then dark yellow, and finally glows golden in the sun. Farmers began to get busy, and the fields were no longer quiet. I heard the roar of harvesters, the rustle of grain pouring into bags, and the conversation of farmers who like harvesting. Soon, the field became a world of water again. I heard the sound of plowing, the splash of farmers transplanting rice seedlings, and the cooing of their drinking water in the sun. Everything is calm again, rice fields, seedlings, weeping willows, cicadas and noisy frogs. Before long, the fields were green again, and the river was full of red rice fields, floating around. Don't say anything Crake (a kind of bird that likes to nest on seedlings) is playing in the field. Occasionally, hot air blows, and the seedlings are drinking, storing, waiting, jointing and heading. The newly picked ears of rice are fresh and tender and light green, gradually turn dark green in the wind and rain, full of grouting, then turn yellowish soon, all turn dark yellow in a few days, and finally turn golden yellow. People are busy again. After the bumper harvest, it's the Mid-Autumn Festival. In the fields, the simple transformation of yellow and green watered by farmers' hard sweat made me ecstatic. Green always makes people feel full of vitality and hope; Yellow is farmers' harvest and dripping success.
Like the rain in the south of the Yangtze River, it is moving and quiet, fine and dense, and everything is a beautiful interpretation. Drops by drops, floating in bits and pieces, enveloped the whole world in smoke. Raindrops hit the blue tile, splashed on the mud pond and swung on the lotus leaf, so there was the swish in the tile ditch, the squeak of the tricycle in the mud pond and the thump on the lotus leaf. The rain stopped, walking in the alley, and the raindrops on the eaves were joking jokes; Walking in the street, the street is muddy; Stop at the edge of the lotus pond, swaying on the crystal lotus leaf. The gentle wind brings freshness and coolness to the world, but it is just right. Occasionally, after the rain clears, I suddenly look up, and a colorful bridge hangs high in the sky, so the poor cowherd and weaver girl can see further.
Jiangnan is full of water vapor, fresh air and complicated weather. Everything makes me dream.
Looking back, I wonder how many traces of heart remain in Jiangnan today.