The summer away

Childhood is beautiful. It is like the dewdrops on the flowers and grass in the morning, so it reflects the colorful colors of life. Almost everyone talked about childhood with melancholy. The Russian poet Ye Saining sighed sadly in the face of the falling leaves: “Golden leaves filled my heart, and I am no longer a youth.” This even evokes people’s unlimited attachment to the passing years.

As the years passed, people’s memories of childhood became more and more clear. And my memory of that watery summer morning is dreamlike for a long time.

It was a summer morning, and the sun had not yet risen from the east. I fell asleep from the kang at home, and I took a sickle up the mountain to mow the grass. When I was young, our farm children had a lot of work, cutting grass, cutting wood, grazing cattle, and doing everything. I took a sickle, a twine, and walked barefoot to the mountain plateau opposite my door. The mountain plateau in June, the ground, the ditch, and the stream, are full of green crops and various green, yellow, and red grasses, including seven grasses, cotton grass, ground pepper, hairy grass, Sapon etc. A mist rose in the mountains, the mountains in the distance were as phantom as the reflection in the water. The rains of that year were timely and the crops grew extremely prosperous. As soon as the farmers walked into the crop field, they couldn’t help but talk. I first walked through a field of buckwheat. A large piece of buckwheat, green leaves on the red stalks, pink buckwheat flowers, spread out from the sky, it is charming; in the morning, when a gust of wind blows, the floral fragrance will be refreshing. The buckwheat field used to be peas, black beans, corn, and millet, all of which had large leaves, and the green vermicelli covered all the banks and ditches of the country. I was mowing and wandering in this green ocean. When I cut alfalfa through the valley forest above me, Chaoyang had just risen from the valley to the east. The pink, gorgeous light of the morning light turned the dewdrops on the broad leaves of the millet into colorful, glittering pearls. Surrounded by the overwhelming valley forest shining with various colors, I seem to feel that I have entered the fairy tale world, and there is a pure, beautiful, and crystal-clear atmosphere of poetry in my heart.

This morning was the deepest in my memory. The green crops showed a rose-like crystal and moving scene when the sun rose in the summer morning, which fascinated me countless times. Later, I tried to find such a morning, but I never saw it again.

Last summer, I returned to the countryside. I have been in a hurry for several years. This time, I finally made up my mind to live in the country for a few days. It was also a foggy morning. I got up early and embarked on the mountain plateau I used to go to in my childhood. It was in June that the wilderness of the hometown was full of colorful wildflowers, such as bowl flowers, prickly pear flowers, wild chrysanthemums, and dog-ear flowers. In the morning sunlight, they looked colorful and graceful. I walked along the mountain beam for a long time, and I didn’t see the scene from my childhood. Encountered an old man in the village, he said that due to the implementation of returning farmland to forests, a large area of ​​farmland in the village was returned to a large area of ​​alfalfa, sea buckthorn, apricot trees, and fruit trees. Plant some cucumbers, beans, and corn sporadically.

I sat for a long time in a clover field blankly. Purple alfalfa flowers swayed in front of me. In the bright sunshine, I felt like I also turned into a clover flower, surrounded with flowers around me, smiling brightly. There was also a fragrant breath on his body. Oh, childhood is only once in life, and everything that goes away is so beautiful and crystal-clear. I should cherish this morning, this gorgeous day, when it disappears like dewdrops, where should I look for …

Clear stream

It’s been a long time since I sat at a clear stream. For a person who has lived in a busy city for a long time, it is also a great hope to be able to walk to the brook that is clear and can see pebbles and green grass.

Although, I also live near the riverside. Looking out from the window of my house, you can see the vast floodplain formed by the alluvial water of the river, and the fan-shaped stream that is noisy day and night. For a year, I walked the bridge over the river almost every day. However, I have no sense of closeness to this river. When I walked across the river embankment, an unpleasant smell came across. The river was turbid and bluish. There was no water plants and no fish. It was a river without life.

I often miss the creek in my hometown. What a clear and beautiful stream! A clear spring water rushed out of the big mountain valley across from my house. It first flows through a series of staggered stone steps, splashing a layer of snow and white waves on the stone cliff. When people stand in the distance, the layers of white waves are like white and gorgeous blooming apricot flowers. After that, it flowed through the shoals covered with all kinds of grass. The rivers were covered with dense poplars and willows, and small streams flowed among the trees and trees, and played beautiful, pure music like a violin. When I was young, I went to school in the village. Every time, I had to walk a long way along the stream to get home. Especially in summer, if you are tired from walking in the scorching sun, you lie down by the river and drink a sweet stream of water, then wash your face with cool water, and feel tired. The stream in her hometown is a lovely little river. She feeds the poor mountain people with sweet lotion. Whenever a woman in our mountain walked out of the mountain, people looked at her white teeth and her water-like skin like a mountain flower. She could not help but praise: “How good skin, what kind of water grow up?” I was very happy for the stream in my hometown.

The stream in his hometown is so clear. In the summer morning, when Zhao Xi rises from the eastern hills, the small stream laughs like a child, flashing a flower-like multicolored dream, and runs away, its footsteps are so light, its The soul is so crystal clear. The children who grew up by the mountain stream have a clear heart like a stream, and a dream like a stream. I miss the small stream in my hometown. Sometimes, in the deep night, there will be a clear stream flowing into my dream, which is the stream in my hometown.

In the noise of the stone, the color is quiet and deep.