Childhood, like a poem, like a dream

There is always an early morning with rising glow, and there is always a dusk with afterglow. There is always a lush spring, and there is always a quiet and beautiful frosty autumn. There are always verdant summers, and there are always harsh winters.


November. September 22nd. Lidong today.

With the flick of his fingers, autumn is passing, and winter is growing.

Time changes, just ask the world, who can stop the change of seasons? Whether I like it or not, the winter hidden deep at the end of the year just came. Carrying a feeling and vicissitudes of life, carrying the hope and longing of the world, light makeup debut.

On the horizon, the afterglow of the setting sun was a little pale, and the slight cold wind was blowing across the riverbank in the fleeting years, blowing strands from the north, chilling my heart. And the time passing by the fingertips, like specks of dust, quietly fall on the half-covered window of the heart, making people linger and wipe it off.

Standing at the corner of the season, there is a sea of ​​waves in my heart, and I miss the slow time in the past.

The exquisite years are as gentle as jade. Traveling all the way through the four seasons, through the beautiful spring, seen the lush summer flowers, tasted the bright autumn moon, and admired the snow in winter. However, I still prefer Xing’an summer. When the wind of memory blew the window sill of the soul, I suddenly remembered the time when I lived in my grandmother’s house when I was a child, in the afternoon of singing and singing, in the dusk of the smoke, in the night when the fireflies danced, and under the camphor tree at the entrance of the village. In the days when grandmothers shook the puff fan to enjoy the cold, a group of children were happily frolicking, and the old people were talking about storytelling. The story was very long.

At that time, the sky was blue, the clouds were shining, the moon was quiet, and the crickets were at ease; at that time, the mountains were clear, the water was sparkling, the wind was smiling, and the bamboo rafts were leisurely; Look everywhere.” At that time, “the children came back early from school, busy taking advantage of the east wind to release the paper kite.” At that time, “the shaggy young child learns to play with chrysalis, sitting side by side with berry and caress.” There are beautiful times like poetry; at that time, a warm smoke, curled up with a dreamlike colorful childhood; colorful and colorful childhood, is a prelude to homesickness, a chapter of longing . Gently pulling open the curtain of time and space, I seemed to see the faces painted by the years, with deep affection, from the fragrant fields, from the country roads, dressed in a simple, simple and honest style. Money comes.

My childhood grandmother’s house is a quiet small village three or four miles away from the Jieshou Bridge and next to the Xiangjiang River. It is idyllic and pleasant all year round. The house in the old house is made of riverside pebbles and yellow mud. I heard my grandma said that when my mother was in her boudoir, she went to the river with her grandpa to choose the stones, and then picked it up with a dustpan, a load, and a load. The blue tiles on the roof were made by grandpa’s own kiln. The house is not big, but it is full of fragrant memories. In front of the gate, there is a grapefruit tree. Every Mid-Autumn Festival, my grandpa would pick a few and let me taste it first. Every time I ate a full stomach, the refreshing and sweet juices moistened the years and sweetened mine. Throughout childhood.

Not far from the house, there is a ditch. The water is drawn from the Wulixia Reservoir. The water is not deep, with green silk grasses growing. It is crystal clear. At a glance, you can see that the little fish is leisurely in the water. In spring, the canal is cheerful, and the gurgling water is a spring of life that nourishes the fields; in midsummer, the canal is unrestrained, and the gurgling water is a water paradise for innocent children; in the morning and evening, it is also a peasant woman and village girl. When washing and washing vegetables is the most joyous moment, the clear water of the canal reflects trees, flowers, blue sky and white clouds, reflecting their hardworking figures, which are uniquely soft; in autumn, the canal is joyous, with gurgling water. Flowing the joy of the harvest of the earth; in winter, the canal is quiet, trickling trickle, telling of the peace of Ruixue Zhao’s prosperous year. Next to the canal is the cultivated vegetable garden, which is as poetic and quiet as “The Garden of Baicao” written by Mr. Lu Xun.

The green and fragrant vegetable borders are plain fireworks that carry the grandmother’s family. Leek and spinach in spring are green and lovely; loofah and bitter gourd in summer are tender and naughty; eggplant and peppers in autumn are colorful and colorful; radish and vegetable moss in winter are verdant. I think, in this world, every child’s heart is always full of curiosity, carefree, and pure as a jade. When I was a kid, I was very naughty and playful, and often lingered in my grandma’s vegetable field. All the insects in the ground are my little friends. Some of them tremble with tentacles, some twist their waists, and some stumblingly. Excited.

When the old cows on the ridge are screaming Yangko, when the shepherd boy’s piccolo blows down the sunset, when the lazy dog ​​barks driving the birds back home, when the magnificent dusk is full of smoke, I hear the grandmother Across the fence outside the garden, I cordially called my breast name. That sound, tender and loving voice echoed in the village, and it was the most beautiful note in the world. I still remember when the afterglow of the falling clouds reflected red on half of the sky, a blue Xiangjiang river, and grandma’s cheeks. Grandma took my little hand and walked along the country road together. That scene was like a beautiful picture in the world. painting. At that moment, I warmed up time and warmed up my entire childhood.