Lake Light Water Color Thoreau Henry David Thoreau (1817～1862), American prose writer, one of the representatives of transcendentalism. He was diligent in writing throughout his life, and his main works include a collection of essays: "A Week on the River". In terms of scenery, Walden still seems to be average. Although the scenery is beautiful, it is far from grand enough. Especially for people who don’t come here often or have never lived by the lake, it may not be able to leave a deep impression. However, the lake here is so It's deep and pure, so it's worth remembering. The water of this lake is clear and green. It is half a mile long, surrounded by one and three-quarters of a mile, and covers an area of ??61 and a half acres. The lake is located in a pine and oak forest and is formed by a long spring. There is no obvious entrance or exit, so The increase or decrease in water volume is mostly related to local clouds, rain and evaporation. There are many mountains along the lake, and they rise steeply from the water. Therefore, on the ground of three and a quarter miles, the hills have risen to more than 40 to 80 feet. As for the east and southeast, they are even as high as 100 feet. It does not vary from one hundred and five feet. And that's probably woodland. The water colors of the rivers and lakes in our Kanggu area are at least two kinds: one is the color when viewed from a distance, and the other is the color when viewed near me (especially those close to me). The former seems to depend more on the brightness of the light, which often varies depending on the weather. On a sunny summer day, the water a little further away will appear blue, especially when the water surface is agitated; if viewed from a slightly further distance, it will appear blue, and there is no difference. In windy, rainy and gloomy weather, the water surface will appear slightly blue-grey. It is said that the color of the sea is more variable, often blue one day and green another day, although the surrounding sky does not change significantly. I have noticed the river here. When the mountains are covered with snow, both ice and water are as green as grass. Some people think that blue is "the color of pure water, whether solid or liquid." But if we look down from the side of the boat, the water shows a variety of colors. Walden Pond looks the same from time to time, blue and green again, even if the viewing angle remains the same. Living between the lower world and the sky, the sky and mountains are inevitably reflected in the lake. Looking down from the mountain, the lake surface is azure from high in the sky; but from a closer look, the water surface near the shore where the sediment can be seen is slightly orange, gradually turns to bright green when you reach the lake, and then becomes thicker in turn, reaching deep into the center of the lake. , then it is completely dark green. However, under certain light and shade, even the coastal area seen from the top of the mountain may be bright and splashed with fresh green. Some people think that this is a reflection of the green forest; but strangely, the sandy side of the railway is also the same color, and it is also the same color in early spring before the leaves are dense, so I thought it might be the interplay of the pale green sky and the orange and yellow of the beach sand. Due to the blending of reflections. The iris here is this kind of green. In other places, after spring comes, the ice on the lake is warmed by the heat of the sun from the bottom of the lake and even the earth's atmosphere along the coast, and begins to melt gradually, so a trickle appears in the unfrozen part of the lake, and that trickle It also has this color. Like all water flows here, whenever there is wind and clear weather, the wave surface can best reflect the color of the sky at a certain angle (or because the wave surface can fully absorb all kinds of light). At this time, when viewed from a little distance from the lake, The blue color presented by the lake was even deeper than the color of the sky itself; and at this time, because I was on the lake and in order to study the reflection, I had to look at the sky and the water. At this time, I did glimpse a kind of blue there. The indescribable light blue - the changing silk under the lamp in the water or the blue light on the end of the sword or close to it - is even darker than the sky, so that the entire wave surface is also full of light blue on one side and dark green on the other, complementing each other. , a wonderful sight, but the latter is almost turbid in comparison. In fact, the light blue is a kind of glazed emerald with a slight green tint; in retrospect, I only saw it by chance in the sky above the forest at dusk in winter. But when you put this water into a cup and look at it, it is just like a cup of air, without any color at all. We all know that a larger glass plate often appears light green, and according to glassmakers, the reason lies in its "size". If the size is slightly smaller, the color will not be visible. As to how much water Walden Pond needs to have this color, I have not made any experiments. The rivers and lakes here are usually black or dark blue when viewed directly from above, and like most lakes, they often give a yellowish sheen to those bathing in them; but because the water in Walden looks like It is as clear as crystal, so the bodies of bathers here often appear alabaster-like pale. In addition, the human body inevitably swells and deforms when soaked in the water, which looks extremely unnatural, but the effect is It is so subtle and unique that only master painters like Michelo Angelo can copy it.
(Excerpted from "Prose Classics of World Famous Writers")
Daisy (France) Hugo I passed Wenxian Road a few days ago, and a wooden fence connecting two six-story buildings caught my attention. It was projected on the road. Above, through the loosely joined wooden boards, the sunlight drew lines on the shadows, attractive parallel golden stripes, like those seen on the beautiful black satin of the Renaissance. I walked closer and looked into the gaps in the boards. What this fence surrounds today is the site of the Burlesque Theater that was burned down two years ago in June 1839. It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was scorching hot, and the road was deserted. A gray door, probably a single door , with bulges on both sides and a depression in the middle, with rococo decoration, it might have been the boudoir of a pretty young woman a hundred years ago. It was installed on the fence. Just lift the bolt a little and it opened. I walked in. It was miserable. , extremely desolate. The ground was covered with mud, and there were large rocks everywhere, abandoned and waiting, as pale as tombstones, and moldy as ruins. There was no one in the place. There were obvious traces of fire and smoke on the walls of nearby houses. However, this piece of land has suffered two consecutive springs of damage since the fire. In one corner of its trapezoid shape, under a boulder that is turning green, extends a basement where insects and centipedes are buried. In the darkness behind the boulder, sprouts of I picked up some grass. I sat on the stone and looked down at this plant. Oh my God! The most beautiful little daisy in the world grew right there, and a cute little flying insect flew back and forth beautifully around the daisy. This grass flower grows quietly, following the beautiful laws of nature, in the soil, in the center of Paris, between two streets, two steps from the palace, four steps from the cavalry arena, among pedestrians, shops, cabs , between the coach and the king's magnificent carriage, this flower, this flower of the field near the street aroused my endless reverie. Ten years ago, who could have foreseen that one day it would grow there. A daisy! If on this site, as on the ground next to it, there was never anything else but houses, that is, owners, tenants and caretakers, and the candles that were carefully put out at night before going to bed residents, then field flowers will never grow here. This flower condenses so many things, how many failed and successful performances, how many bankrupt families, how many unexpected accidents, how many adventures, how many sudden disasters! For Those of us who are attracted to live here every night, if this flower had appeared in our eyes two years ago, these people would have been shocked to regard it as a ghost! What a labyrinth, how many mysterious arrangements fate plays on people, in the final analysis, finally To become this bright little yellow sun! There must first be a theater and a fire, a city's joy and a city's terror, one the most beautiful of human inventions, the other the most terrible. It took natural disasters, thirty years of laughter and thirty hours of rolling flames to grow this daisy and win the joy of this flying insect! For those who are good at observing, the smallest things are often the most important things.
I feel quite uneasy these days. Tonight, I was sitting in the yard enjoying the cool air, and suddenly I thought of the lotus pond I walked past every day. It must look different in the light of the full moon. The moon was gradually rising, and the laughter of the children on the road outside the wall could no longer be heard; my wife was patting Runer in the house and humming a lullaby in a daze. I quietly put on my coat, closed the door and went out. Along the lotus pond is a winding small cinder road. This is a secluded road; few people walk it during the day, and it is even more lonely at night. There are many trees growing on all sides of the lotus pond, which are lush and lush. On one side of the road are some willows and some trees whose names I don’t know. On a moonless night, the road was eerie and a bit scary. Tonight is very good, although the moonlight is still faint. I was alone on the road, walking with my hands behind my back. This world seemed to belong to me; I also seemed to have transcended my ordinary self and entered another world. I love being lively and calm; I love being in groups and being alone. Like tonight, a person can think about anything and think about nothing alone under this vast moonlight, and he feels like a free person. Whatever you must do or say during the day can be ignored now. This is the beauty of being alone. Let me just enjoy the boundless lotus fragrance and moonlight. On the surface of the twists and turns of the lotus pond could be seen fields of leaves. The leaves are high out of the water, like the skirts of a graceful dancer. Among the layers of leaves, white flowers are dotted here and there, some are blooming gracefully, and some are holding their petals shyly; just like individual bright pearls, like stars in the blue sky, and like flowers just emerging from the bath. beauty. The breeze passed by, bringing wisps of fragrance, like the faint singing from a tall building in the distance. At that time, the leaves and flowers also trembled slightly, like lightning, which immediately spread across the lotus pond. The leaves were densely packed side by side, and there seemed to be a ripple of solid blue. Under the leaves are veins of running water, which are covered and some colors cannot be seen; but the leaves are even more beautiful. The moonlight is like flowing water, quietly flowing on this leaf and flower. Thin green mist floats in the lotus pond. The leaves and flowers seem to have been washed in milk; they are also like a dream wrapped in a veil. Although it was a full moon, there was a thin layer of clouds in the sky, so it couldn't shine brightly; but I thought this was just the right thing - a sound sleep is essential, but a nap also has its own flavor. The moonlight shines through the trees, and the dense bushes high up cast jagged and mottled black shadows, as steep as ghosts; the sparse shadows of the curved willows seem to be painted on lotus leaves. The moonlight in the pond is not uniform; but the light and shadow have a harmonious melody, like the famous music played on the Buddhist bell.
The lotus pond is surrounded by trees, far and near, high and low, among which willows are the most numerous. These trees surrounded a lotus pond; only a few gaps were left on the side of the path, as if they were specially left for the moonlight. The color of the trees is gloomy, and at first glance they look like a cloud of smoke; but the beauty of the willows can also be distinguished in the smoke. Faintly looming above the treetops are distant mountains, just a general outline. There are one or two street lights leaking through the cracks in the trees, looking listless like sleepy eyes. The liveliest sounds at this time were the cicadas chirruping on the trees and the frogs croaking in the water; but the excitement was theirs and I enjoyed nothing. Suddenly I remembered the lotus picking thing. Picking lotus is an old custom in the south of the Yangtze River. It seems to have existed very early, and it was most popular during the Six Dynasties. We can roughly know it from poetry. Those who picked lotuses were young women. They went in boats and sang erotic songs. Needless to say, there are many people picking lotus, and there are also people watching lotus picking. It was a lively season and also a romantic season. Emperor Yuan of the Liang Dynasty said it well in "Poem of Picking the Lotus": So the fairy girl and the girl are willing to go boating; the bird's head slowly returns, and the feather cup is passed; Her waist is slender and her clothes are tied tightly, and her steps are delayed. At the beginning of summer and after spring, when the leaves are tender and the flowers are blooming, she smiles for fear that her clothes will be stained, and she pulls back her clothes for fear of capsizing the boat. It can be seen that there was a lot of fun at that time. This is really interesting stuff, but unfortunately we are no longer blessed with it. Then I remembered the sentence in "Xizhou Song": In the autumn of picking lotus in Nantang, the lotus flowers are more than people's heads; I lower my head to pick up the lotus seeds, which are as clear as water. If there are lotus pickers tonight, the lotus flowers here will be considered "outstanding"; just a few shadows of running water will not do. This makes me miss Jiangnan after all. ——Thinking like this, I suddenly raised my head and found that I was already in front of my own door. I pushed the door gently and went in. There was no sound. My wife had been asleep for a long time.