Text: Moonlight White Fox
一
When I was a child, that small courtyard appeared in my mind. When I said goodbye to the small courtyard that had carried all my happiness for ten years, The courtyard is a bit sentimental and a bit reluctant to leave... It is said to be a small courtyard, but it is actually a row of family courtyards. There are twenty rows on the left and right. My house is in the row closest to the road. There are usually three families living in a small courtyard, and my family lives in the two outer rooms. The courtyard is surrounded by poplar and willow trees. The trees stand shoulder to shoulder in a square formation. Amidst the rich green willows in spring and summer and the beautiful scenery of snow-covered branches in winter, the courtyard has a unique quietness. , harmony ripples in the heart with the sunrise and sunset with the smoke from the kitchen.
My mother’s hard work always brings a pleasant fragrance. Every spring, my mother will clean up the debris piled under the window, and then use wooden sticks of the same length to surround a square with two planes. The flower pond, then, the morning glory in the small courtyard, winter jasmine, landmine flower, wintersweet... The hazy spring morning brought with it my first dream; the budding impulse; with a strong childishness and a red smile. , with hopeful hope, I put my schoolbag on my back and started flying towards the ideal in my dream. Those flowers, short and tender, were bathed in the sun, rain and dew, and caressed by the breeze. They were full of hope along with my childhood.
In March, when the wind makes the willow branches outside the courtyard become more and more gentle, and when the poplar trees bloom with fluffy mulberry-like flowers and adorn the branches like stars, the children in the small courtyard will raise their heads. Face, looking forward to it quickly growing to the length of a finger, the fresh poplar leaves are as big as copper coins, whispering in the gentle breeze under the warm sunshine, we are playfully shaking the tree, and the long flowers fall one after another. Off the branches, they fell like raindrops, and flowers bloomed all over the yard. I happily ran to pick it up. My mother would wash it, boil it, and make it cold. My mother said that it would make the flowers go away and appetizing. But I didn’t like the bitter taste, but picking it up every year was an indispensable homework for me.
In the summer courtyard, whenever my small room is filled with sunshine, I wake up from my sleep, my mother has opened the curtains, I rub my eyes, and the tall willow trees outside the courtyard are blowing in the gentle breeze. Swaying gently, like a mother's cradle. There are also a few birds singing in the trees, and the fragrant flowers spread out their colorful clothes in the warm sunshine, showing intoxicating smiles. The thick fragrance attracts industrious bees and dancing butterflies. I stared blankly at the wandering clouds floating in the blue sky:
“Mom, do you think the clouds look like mushrooms?”
“Mom, look at the clouds changing again. "Become a flower"
I lay on the bed and kept asking, and my mother always said, "Baby, the birds are coming to play with you, get up quickly." So, the small courtyard became alive. ...So, today I seem to see that small courtyard again, that morning, that morning full of sunshine. My mother hugged my quilt after I got up, and I followed her to a small wooden house outside the yard. A man was holding a large wooden bow and playing cotton. The slingshot is like a guzheng, playing a single beautiful music in his hand. I stared blankly, and immediately fell in love with the sound, melodious, rhythmic, and accompanied by the smell of cotton. Cotton wool and dust were flying all over the room, quietly falling on him. Like a walking and talking snowman. He looked calm, even focused, quietly immersed in the melody he created.
I was so absorbed in looking at it that I forgot about the itching feeling of cotton wool in my nose. Then I found a little girl about the same age as me, sitting in a messy corner, her little face was dirty, Her hair was long and messy, and she could tell at a glance that she was that man's child. She looked at the snacks in my hand with envy, and made swallowing movements from time to time. I didn't see her mother, but she ran over when I left. Her mother motioned for me to give her some snacks. When I handed them to her, I saw her eyes, dark and bright in the light of the dancing cotton wool. Flash up. After taking a few steps, I turned back and saw fine cotton wool covering her soft hair.
I held my mother's hand tightly, feeling indescribable in my heart, because that morning, because of the melancholy little girl's eyes, I saw a different childhood. In this way, I got to know the little girl named "Hua" and her poor time flying in the cotton wool. Later, I saw my mother giving flowers the clothes I didn’t wear. Many times, I saw flowers wearing my clothes, running happily. My mother didn’t say anything when she saw them, but always stuffed her pockets full. So that summer, the friendship in the small courtyard was simple and romantic, held by happy palms like crystal, glowing with a charming luster. Many years later, I can still feel the coolness in my palms and the thin coolness of cotton-playing music that quietly covers my life.
二
The summer in the small courtyard is pleasant. In July and August, when the heat is unbearable, the tall trees outside the wall are like big umbrellas, blocking the hot sun. After returning home from school My mother always handed me a cup of cold mung bean soup and sat in the courtyard doing homework.
In the temptation of the aroma of rice, I can't wait to climb to the high table and watch my mother put the long noodles in cold water, pick them out and put them in a bowl, put on my mother's homemade meat sauce and some cucumber shreds. , a little bit jealous, before the noodles were taken out, I was already salivating. At this time, people walked into the small courtyard from time to time, holding cattail fans, and my mother greeted them to eat together, and they were not polite... While eating, chatting with other people. Funny thing, the tension of the day drifts away in the evening breeze.
My favorite is the small courtyard after the rain. The air is particularly fresh in the morning after it rains. In the flower pond, the flowers are blooming. After the baptism of the storm last night, they cheer up and enjoy the sunshine. . The elegance of the yellow of the chrysanthemums, the enthusiasm of the red of the radish, each leaf is green and translucent, with dewdrops on the tips of the leaves, crystal clear, reflecting the glory of the sun; the "poppies" along the edge of the flower pond are wearing "sun hats" as softly as tulle ", twisting her slender waist and dancing in the breeze. The upward morning glory is climbing up along the thin rope on the wall, showing perseverance in its tenacity. Mother's hands decorate the small courtyard, adding color to the simple life.
In the small courtyard during the holidays, when I felt lonely, my mother borrowed many books and read classics by the flower pond, under the shade of the trees, with the fragrance of flowers. This was the first time I came into contact with "A Dream of Red Mansions". This is the first time I know the foreign masterpiece "Resurrection". When I read "The Three Musketeers", it was the first time I felt that there was such a troublesome book in the world. When I was reading "The Little Match Girl", I wondered why there was such a pitiful little girl... Whenever I told my friends about "Daiyu Hidden Flowers" and "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms", even though I didn't understand much about it, It has a profound meaning, but in their envious eyes, I regarded myself as an elf dancing with the book.
My childhood in the small courtyard was filled with the fragrance of books. I was often happy or sad about the situation of the protagonist in the book. Sometimes I would cover my book and stare at it in deep thought, letting my imaginary thoughts condense into the sincerity of flowers and rainbows in the clear sky in the distance. Like flickering; let the little wishes surf in the dream and reach the distant other shore... Reading makes me yearn for the world outside the small courtyard and let my thoughts fly freely. In the small courtyard, the sunshine is a kind of nourishment and a blessing to me. A longing, longing for my dreams to travel through the sky and protect the sun.
三
When the cicadas stop crying about the heat and the willow trees begin to turn yellow and the leaves fall from the branches, it is autumn in the small courtyard. My mother said that this is the harvest season in the countryside. So my friend and I made an appointment to go outside the hospital and stand on the hill, surrounded by wheat fields and corn drying by the roadside. The woman's red gauze scarf is like a fire, burning in the autumn wind. A little further away, rows of mud waves in the harvested fields rolled into the sky. Under the blue sky, the wild geese lined up in the character "一" or "人" and shouted happily, passing by the tall poplar trees outside the courtyard, flying south...
The autumn sunshine in the small courtyard Dyeing it into gold makes the sky high and deep. The trees outside the courtyard only leave their sparse branches to the setting sun. The autumn wind makes the flowers tired, haggard and withered. Only the neighbor's wall-climbing tiger glows under the autumn sun. The green leaves turn red day by day, turning into a bright red flag, welcoming every cool morning in the autumn wind. And the flower seeds collected on my table, in small bottles and small boxes, indicate the splendor of the coming year.
The small courtyard in winter is more solemn. When you stay in a warm room, the small courtyard is separated from the window. When the northern wind and snow whistled and swirled, rushing to the window, retreating, and rushing back again, the snow rustled on the window, and the small courtyard was also sharpening its will in the cold. What excites me the most is seeing the masterpiece of wind and snow - window grilles. The various silver forests are covered with plump leaves. Imagine that there are deer running in this forest in the small courtyard? What kind of birds should be on the silver branches? There should be a clear stream under the forest, right?
"Mom, let the seven dwarfs live here."
My mother looked at me with a smile and pointed at the window. Was she also rejoicing in her childhood in her memory? Is there also a small courtyard that holds beautiful memories? I don't know, but as the years go by, my small courtyard has gone through my childhood and four seasons with me, so ordinary. Now that I have walked past countless high-rise buildings and resplendent buildings, I still yearn for the life of small courtyards. Those small courtyards scattered in villages and cities are silently giving people a life day after day, year after year, with their own ordinaryness. Provide a habitat for human beings to survive and embellish nature.
I miss the small courtyard of my childhood...
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