Beautiful snowflakes are flying. I haven't seen you for three years.
Last year in Fujian, it seemed a little later than now, and I also saw snow. But that's snow on the top of the mountain in the distance, not flying snowflakes. On the plain, it only occasionally sprinkles a few drops with the rain and never falls to the ground. Its color is gray, not white; Its weight is like raindrops, and it can't fly. As soon as it landed, it immediately melted into water, jumping or sighing without trace, just like when it snowed in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. This kind of snow, the old Fujian people I met for the first time in 40 years, can certainly feel special significance and talk about it with relish, but in my opinion, it is always boring. It snows in Fujian, but I don't think so.
I like the flying snowflakes in Shanghai. It is "snow-white" white, as beautiful as a flower. It seems to be lighter than air, not falling from the air, but being rolled up from the ground by the air. However, it is like a living creature, like a group of gnats (ruì) at dusk in summer, like bees in the honey-picking period in spring. It is busy flying, up or down, fast or slow, or sticking to people, or squeezing into the cracks, and seems to have its own will and purpose. It is silent. But when it flies, we seem to hear the cries and footsteps of millions of people, the rough sea, the roar of the forest, and sometimes it seems to hear the whispers of children, the quiet evening prayers in the chapel, the cheerful birds singing in the garden ... It brings gloom and cold. But in its flying posture, we saw a charitable mother, a lively child, smiling flowers, warm sun, silent sunset ... it didn't breathe. But when it jumped on our faces, we seemed to smell the fresh air in the wilderness, the elegant orchids in the valley, the rich roses in the garden, and the faint jasmine ... During the day, it made thousands of beautiful gestures; At night, it gives off silver light, shines on our pedestrians, and draws all kinds of flowers and trees on our glass windows, oblique, straight, curved and upside down. And the river, the clouds in the sky …
"Notes on Mountain Residence" sleeps soundly in the cold wind
There was a funny little thing during the Cultural Revolution that kept shaking in my memory.
At that time, the school was run by the rebels, with militarized management, and all teachers and students exercised every morning. In fact, the school was closed at that time, and nothing happened after the exercise. Everyone broke up. Therefore, this exercise is the only chance for the rebels to experience the prestige of being in power.
The teachers were frightened and had to go; Like us, who fought against the rebels, we are now doing nothing, and there are a lot of troublesome students at home who have to go; Only a few students who call themselves "bard" can't insist on doing exercises. Although there is a long-awaited big horn in the high room, they still sleep with their heads covered. This hurt the rebels' face, so the meeting decided to carry these people to the playground with their beds tomorrow morning.
The next day, as expected, it was finished. On the playground in the early winter morning, the screaming crowd labored to carry out some beds with veils. The rebels burst into laughter, and the teachers and students who were doing exercises couldn't help laughing. However, the next thing is troublesome. Are these "minstrels" forced to get up and get dressed in public? If they do this, they will be too ostentatious, just like the master. So the rebel leader ordered: "Let them lie like this!" But what's public about sleeping with your head covered? We look at these beds while doing exercises. There is cold air here and warm beds there. It's really enviable. The rebel leader seems to think that the situation is wrong, so he has to give another order: "End of public display, back!" " "Those warm quilts were happily carried back. Later, according to the complaints of the students who were carried in and out, at least two people did not wake up from beginning to end.
From this past, I think of many reasons.
Showing the public is just the attacker's unilateral idea. If the public does not feel this way, it is probably a kind of enjoyment. There are two kinds of punishments in the world: direct injury and reputation humiliation. For the former, there is nothing to do, while for the latter, land is really a relative concept.
A person needs to rely on many complicated conditions to realize the humiliation of another person's reputation. When these conditions are not completely controlled, it is difficult to really achieve the goal.
This is why many people who are often besieged are not discredited, and those critical experts have worked hard for half their lives, but they have not won any good reputation for themselves.
Let them stand in the cold wind and be impassioned. We have our own warm bed and are very happy to sleep soundly. It's hard to take it with you, bring it in and out.
Read Wu Tong in Yu Qiu in your spare time.
The phoenix tree is in front of the building where we live, between the garden and the grass, at the corner of the winding path, watching us all day and all night.
It is much bigger than other trees, thick enough to fold, like a "gentleman", reaching into the air; Like a reserved girl, long hair, shawls and other lush leaves cover her face and even her whole body. I guess, at the beginning, there must be many saplings growing side by side with it, and later, perhaps because of the needs of environmental planning, they were cut down; Perhaps it is their own good quality and tenacious persistence. It leisurely walks through the storms of the years and becomes tall. Reading trees in my spare time has become a part of my life.
One day, my mother wrote from the north: the cold wave is coming, pay attention to keep warm and keep out the cold. In the evening, I added a quilt. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, there was a whistling wind and rain banging on the window lattice. I woke up from a deep sleep and heard the cold raindrops falling like primitive percussion. So I didn't sleep, thinking about home letters. Think of my mother's genealogy and my grandfather's ups and downs. Grandpa is a famous local educator. He devoted his life to education in Sang Zi and gave up several opportunities for external employment. However, in those unprecedented years, he didn't want to succumb to inhuman torture. On a cold rainy night, he swallowed his anger and committed suicide. I didn't see his old man's house, but I read a black-framed face from my uncle's house. I dare not say how skilled the painter is, but I firmly believe that those eyes are vivid. Every time I stand in front of it, there is always a feeling that spreads to me and silently collides with my heart.
Imagine, with the wind and rain, in order not to be sleepy, I put on my clothes alone, facing the window. The night is like ink, and in an instant I am also integrated into this thick night. Surprised to find a few cold stars blinking their sleepy eyes on the horizon! In the past, this was an illusion. There is no rain at all, only wind, cruel and abusive north wind. At this time, what makes me "sad" most is the phoenix tree not far away. I can only vaguely see its dark blue outline, bearing the desolation of the horizon. A gust of wind blows, which is the call sign of leaves and branches around each other, sometimes like Russian folk songs, and sometimes like poetry as if nothing had happened. Somehow, my grandfather's portrait suddenly caught my eye, and it seemed to have an unspeakable fit with this silent phoenix tree. Wenda, who doesn't want to be a giant arm, has the magnanimity to protect one side.
Woke up the next day, the sun was full of windows, but the sun was shining high.
I miss the yellow leaves of that tree. Pushing open the window lattice, the tree I saw turned out to be a Oracle Bone Inscriptions. There were no leaves that covered the sun yesterday, and the rest were quite dry trees. My heart seems to have been put on a heavy piece of ice by someone, and I can no longer be a bird and fly to that tree. The night wind has withered the life of the tree! The wind doesn't care about you. What falls will eventually fall, and there is no need to stay. You still have a sense of pride against the whole winter before spring comes!
So, I understand the loneliness of the phoenix tree, not lamenting the indifference of the passing of youth, not lamenting the loneliness in the sea of people, but a kind of Zen, a kind of mystery of quietness, adapting to nature and counteracting nature, understanding nature and confusion, letting the wind and rain erode, the four seasons cycle, the sun and the moon are black, flowers bloom and fall, how calm and indifferent generosity! I can't help feeling that my grandfather died young, and I am sad that he gave in to fate and people of that era.
It was the familiar rustling of leaves, beating the eardrum affectionately. Looking down, a girl in red is skipping along a path covered with yellow leaves. It seems that every leaf is accompanying her youthful footsteps. At this moment, I threw myself into a ray of fluffy sunshine on my windowsill and sprinkled it on a roll of old books that I didn't close last night before filing the case.
Yu Classic Prose: Taoist Pagoda, Snow in Yangguan, Receiving Letters, White-haired Suzhou, Jiangnan Town, Three Gorges, A Pavilion in the Wind and Rain, Lonely Tianzhu Mountain, Su Dongpo's Breakthrough, The Back of a Dynasty, Tianya Story and Where is the Xiang Pavilion.