That is a path leading to the top of the mountain.
The mountain is not high, like a clenched fist. Fists are connected to arms, arms are connected to another mountain, and mountains are connected to mountains.
The path is like a blood vessel on a fist, looming.
It is also like a taupe snake, winding in the green waves.
I miss it, not because it has any legendary stories, nor because it has any charming scenery. This is just an ordinary path, just like thousands of paths in Qian Qian in the world. I don't walk often, but I pass by occasionally, but it is because of the ordinary that I miss it. Because I don't go often, I can only think about it.
Walking on the path, the sunshine is like orange wine, which is poured into a transparent jade cup. The air is as cool as washed in water, with a little smell of grass and earth. Birds are drunk in the treetops, twittering and calling each other. Unknown bugs also join in the fun, playing wonderful music with earthworms in the soil (it is said that earthworms also squeak) and pouring happiness into the empty mountains.
At this time, I feel like I plunged into the clear spring water in a hot summer day, which is indescribably refreshing and comfortable.
At this time, I will forget myself and my existence, thinking that I am also a grass, a tree or a bug, and I am happy with my friends on this hillside.
The path is overgrown with weeds, shrubs and lush. As soon as the wind blows, they keep dancing, as if there are some wild animals hidden inside, and they will come out of the dense grass at any time. At this time, I thought of Liaozhai and the ghosts in it. Maybe there will be zombies or ghosts hiding in invisible shrubs and weeds, and suddenly become a beautiful woman or an old woman standing in front. How horrible it is, it makes people feel scared.
Towering trees propped up branches and leaves like giant umbrellas, forming a green corridor over the path, and the blue sky was cut into countless irregular pieces. In the forest, the most touching is the pine tree, the tall and straight trunk, the vicissitudes of the tree, like a living monument, writing the cruelty of survival and the strength of life. Other trees are leafy and leafy, while pine trees are full of vitality only at the top, and many branches and leaves in the lower half are dead, and the trees are sore and scarred. Who knows how many branches and leaves it sacrificed behind the tall, thick and evergreen? How much beauty has been abandoned!
Ordinary pine trees look like extraordinary people.
I don't know who laid sparse pebbles on the road. The pebbles are covered with grass and have a thin layer of fallen leaves. When you step on it, you can hear a slight rustle, just like the pulse of a mountain.
If the mountain has a heartbeat, who gave it life? Is it a tree? Are they flowers and plants? Who gave it a soul, a bug bird? Is it a path?
After walking for a long time, I have been thinking about a few things.
Who opened up this road?
Mr. Lu Xun said: "There was no road in the world. If there are more people walking, it will become a road." How many people and how many years does it take to trample vegetation into a road on this hillside? A hundred years? Two hundred years? Before Lu Xun was born 200 years ago, the Republic of China was still a distant dream. One hundred years later, Xu Zhimo sent out such a feeling: "What is ahead?" There is nothing but a big dark mouth, waiting on our doomed road, and it's time to swallow us all. "
Who will go this way? Did you move to Beijing to take the exam? Are you a farmer who goes out to work? Or the boxer brothers or Kang Youwei's disciples? ?
In fact, as long as there is someone, there will be a road. As long as there is a road, people will continue to go on, and future generations will go further than their predecessors.
From the cracks in the trees halfway up the mountain, you can see the pond at the foot of the mountain The water in the pond is as green as jasper, and a beam of sunshine hangs above the pond like an arrow. I don't know if it's the sunlight coming through the cracks in the trees or the light beam reflected from the water in the pond.
My eyes suddenly stopped, like walking in the hot sun, being hit on my forehead by a drop of water. Surprise! Cheer! On one side of the path, there is a flower. The only flower seen on both sides of the path, a yellow flower, is as yellow as an autumn sunset. Smell it with a faint fragrance, similar to sandalwood. It is so bright and fragrant alone that it ignites an immortal fragrance on the path. I believe that no one knows when to open and when to thank. Then I remembered Bing Xin's poem: "The flower in the corner, when you admire yourself, the world becomes smaller." The same narcissism, she opened in the corner, and you chose the path, so you have people coming and going all the way, you have the green trees and songbirds in this mountain, you have the vast sun, moon and stars, although you don't care whether passers-by will appreciate you.
Is this a metaphor for the realm of life?
Standing on the top of the mountain, you can see far away. The mountains in the distance are connected with the sky, gray and white, like a touch of light smoke; Closer, the mountain and the tree are connected together, and they are all blue, so you can't tell which is the mountain and which is the tree, like a screen; At present, 32 houses, a large area of farmland and hills are connected together, and Shan Ye and farmland are green like a painting.
It turns out that standing on the top of the mountain to see the scenery, the scenery is hierarchical.
The top of the mountain is not the end of the road, because the road leads to the trees on the other side of the mountain.
I stood at the top of the mountain for a long time, looking at the road up the mountain, as if I saw that very old era:
It is also a sunny grass morning. A farmer leads his cow on a mountain road, followed by his little yellow dog. His cows are greedy for grass on both sides of the road, stop and go, and don't want to step. The little yellow dog behind him sniffed east and west, drilling around in the grass. After a while, he drove away a white rabbit. The white rabbit rolled down the hillside, and it would stand on the hillside and stare for a long time. Farmers are worried about the fertile land waiting to be cultivated beyond the mountain. He cursed this and that. Cows and dogs are always disobedient. He kept cursing and shouting, but he could do nothing, but his face showed a satisfied smile.
What a lovely picture this is. I was fascinated by it.
It turns out that the truest happiness in life is so healthy and busy, walking on the path in the sun.
Generally, everything in the world has a name, and roads are no exception. Mountain is called mountain road, water is called waterway, those who seek money are called "financial road", those who are officials are called "official career", those who work hard are called "strong", those who are for the country are called "strong" and those who are for the nation are called "sheng"! No matter what roads are connected, the road on the mountain leads to the road outside the mountain, the road outside the mountain leads to the road all over the world, and the road of one person also leads to the road of the country and the nation.
As soon as a person is born, there will be a road of his own under his feet. Some are narrow, some are wide, some are straight, and some are curved. Some roads lead people to light, while others lead people to darkness. Countless roads, countless people walked by, met on the road, left on the road, some people cried on the road, and some people laughed on the road. The road has no end, but life has an end. When you come to the end of your life, can you find your way back? Are you grateful for the road you have traveled? Still regret it? If life could be repeated, would you choose the same path? Maybe you will have people who can't help feeling during the journey, maybe you will have the helplessness of "money mountain is hard to walk", maybe you will have the joy of "old castle peak is there, and you will get drunk together", but no matter which road you take, please cherish this road from birth to death and the scenery on this road. Because there is no turning back in life, if you miss it, you will lose it forever.
So, when I walk this road occasionally, I will be moved by it.
Moved by its ordinary, moved by its profound.
It is like a neglected treasure, like a forgotten experience, which I found occasionally, so I hid it as a treasure, as deep as a trampled memory.
And countless invisible footprints on the path will also be overlapped by years and become a book without words, like unknown flowers on the side of the path, fragrant and colorful alone.
In fact, the road can also talk, as long as you listen attentively, even if it is an obscure remote path.
The path, lying quietly in the arms of the mountain, leads to the world outside the mountain and tells the story of a long time.