Chapter 27 magic season

The blue sky is waxed, in this spring.In this spring, the small leaves are also glazed.The world suddenly became clear. I walked up the hill along the grass slope, and the spring grass had grown very thick.Alas, spring is always like this. At the beginning, I always get used to hiding myself behind the cold and drizzle.When the veil was really lifted, it humbly extended the long summer for us. The mountain is no longer thin like last autumn, and the sea of ​​white and fluffy reeds has also receded. The acacia trees are dark green, the lotus leaf paulownia is light green, the new bamboos are emerald green, and the young grasses are just emerging. It is yellow-green.Still the verdant green of those old trees, and the tender green of wisteria plants, the bustling crowds filled the mountain.I walk slowly, I walk on top of the green, I walk between the green, I walk under the green, the green is in me, I am in the green.

The wine tone of the sun is very light, but very mellow, and it is lightly poured into each cup-shaped small wild flower.What kind of king is going to hold a picnic?Why decorate every corner so luxuriously and elegantly?People who walk by can't help but feel shabby. The thick felt under the big tree was where we sat, in the spring of that year.When I walked by today, it was as soft and green as before, and even the small wild flowers woven on it were as beautiful as before, ah, spring, that sweet memory came back to me My heart has come—in fact, it’s not coming back, it’s always been there!I couldn't help but sit down timidly, and the tidal sound of joy echoed in a low voice.

The breeze shuttles among the thin leaves, and butterflies shuttle with him.Ah, it's really unreasonable to be unhappy - in a melody like the spring breeze.All the tender branches and leaves are invited to dance, and there is a rustling sound of dresses rubbing against tiger silk and fine gauze.It's April music season! (How long has it been since we heard the sound of silk and bamboo?) On the broad band stage, there are sweet and distant wooden Xiao, classical lyre, and small silver bells, playing complex and harmonious tunes together. . We have forgotten the world outside the window for too long, we always like to live a life surrounded by concrete.We have long been unable to be like those shepherds holding poles in the meadow by the stream, and their tents that only shelter from the wind and rain.We have also long been unable to imagine those farmers who hoe among the long acres, and their huts that are only knee-high.We don't know the comfort when the soles of our feet touch the grass, and we don't know the excitement when the nasal cavity encounters the fragrance of flowers.Wow, how did we gallop so fast!

Over there, a clear mountain stream flows, and many light purple and bright yellow petals float up and down, what do they look like?I seem to have wanted to draw such a picture—but, why did I want to draw it so much?Is it because my heart is also flowing with such a stream?Is it because some beautiful and illusory past events and dreams are stirring in it?Ah, how I cherished these petals, how I longed to scoop up a handful for this morning's breakfast! Suddenly, a little girl came.If I hadn't seen her, I would have regarded her as an elf at such a time when the mist hadn't cleared and the sun was flickering strangely!She walked slowly, like a small mountain dweller, even her steps were surprisingly slow.She has a natural and simple temperament that belongs to the mountains and fields, which makes me want to tease her to say a few words.

"Why don't you go to school, Kaikai." "The teacher said, I don't go to school today," she said slowly, "The teacher said, today is spring, so I don't need to go to school." Ah, spring!oh!I think she meant spring break, but what a beautiful slip of the tongue!We should go to another school in the spring.To read the volumes of mountains and the lines of water.Go to the shorthand speech, and count the sudden changes in the clouds.Really, our school opened a lot of credits and hired a lot of professors.We still have much to learn, and we still have much to emulate.Really, spring should never want to share the cage of chickens and rabbits, spring should not memorize Anglo-Saxon vernacular, and spring should not collect data cards of Vietnamese conditions.Spring, spring, when spring comes, we should really learn from birds, standing on the tallest branches, spreading our wings, and drying our long-damp feathers.

The little mountain dweller in red looked at me curiously, with a slightly joking expression. I wanted to say something to her, but I didn't know what to say.I finally didn't say it-I think that everything I can teach her, I have probably taught her in spring. Slowly, she bent down and reached into the stream.The petals flowed idly from her fingers, and a strange smile suddenly appeared on her cheeks, a simple, joyful, yet elusive smile.I couldn't help calling her again—I really still doubted that she was the boy in Tsing Yi in the notebook novel. (Perhaps she wore out that green dress and changed into this one by chance!) I gently touched the bow on her head.

"Kay Kai." "Ok?" "what are you doing?" "I," she said blankly after a moment's hesitation, "I didn't do anything!" The multi-coloured petals still flowed through the murmuring stream, swirling around her fat little white hands.Suddenly, she clenched her hand, holding a few petals in her small fist.She stood up happily, pocketed the petals in the little red dress, then walked away humming a tune that was out of tune. My heart seemed to be hit by something, who is she?Is it little Kaikai?Or the elves of spring flowers?Or, is it a reappearance of myself from years ago?In the small town surrounded by mountains in the south of the Yangtze River, didn't there also live a little girl in red?Didn't she also like to sit on the short broken wall in spring, looking at the blue sky far away and meditating?Doesn't she also love to pick flowers?Climbing on the tree, peach blossom petals fluttered all over his head and face.When I got home, my mother always shook out a lot of soft and tender pink from the collar.Doesn't she also love water?Hadn't she always dreamed of catching a golden fish? (But I never knew how to use hooks and baits.) Every time I came back from school, I went to the pool to look at the thin bamboo pole.Bending down, there was nothing - except that round and naive little face.Ah, what about that kid?What about the child who lay and rolled by the creek until his little skirt was covered with grass juice?Where had she hidden herself?

Over there, in the sparse shade of the trees, a few fluffy lambs were gnawing on the grass, and the older ewe was lying peacefully.I stood far away, thinking how nice it would be if I could touch the wool.They are eating, playing, and jumping up and down awkwardly.Ah, in spring, everything is lively, cheerful, tender, and fluffy, and everything is so lovable that I don’t know why. Walk a few steps forward and slowly enter the strong fragrance of flowers.Adding such a fragrance of flowers to the warm air is really intoxicating. I walked over, and on that steep slope, someone planted a gardenia.The tree was very short, but the flowers bloomed extremely brightly, so bright that even the leaves were almost shaded.Like a row of hexagonal stars that can be picked, there are clear and shallow eyes.Such a small tree, I think, what kind of strength did she fight to bloom such a tree?It was very quiet all around, and even the spring breeze was so sweet—I suddenly found that I had been standing for a long time, oh, am I also tired of it!

Zhajiang grass spread out softly on the ground, thick and lush, and the momentum actually suppressed the entire mountain top.The pleasant water-red color made my face heat up unconsciously! Down the mountain, the creek meanders.Looking down from a high place, the small mirror of the sun is shining on the stream at night, ah, how confusing spring is!What is it all about?Who is in charge of managing this initial season?He must be a kind of magical artist. When he swipes his magical brush, the whole earth shrinks beautifully, shrinks into a bunch of flower balls, shrinks into a small music box.He gave light and color to the world, and human beings with love and laughter.Ah, spring, such a magic season!

The creek was higher than in winter, and from a distance, the man who paid the wages was slowly wading across the creek.Ah, what is it like to walk in the spring water?Maybe at that time, I suddenly thought that I was a fish?I want to be a woodcutter, I am very happy, I carry rosin on my shoulders, (perhaps mixed with some mountain flowers and weeds!) and blue glass under my feet, (and it is the softest and brightest kind. ) let the mountain wind embroider the gray cloth clothes on his body, and let the wild flowers decorate the broken sandals under his feet.Well, being a woodcutter is very enviable.

As for me, I have no stream to ford, only large patches of green skirt-like grass growing in front of me.I jumped for joy, jumping over the cyan Simmons.The sun was shining like a tide under the mountain, and the whole city was immersed in spring.Then I thought of my own red door, which must be glowing with the color of onyx in the sunshine of April! He was sitting by the window with a copy of Brick's International Acts on his lap, and came to meet me when he saw me.I can hardly believe that we have lived under one roof for more than a hundred days.In a trance, I just feel that this is still the campus where we study together.And at this time, it was the moment when they met by chance at the corner of the stairs with surprise in their hearts.isn't it?His eyes are the same as before, his voice is the same as before, how can I not mistake him?Especially in such a familiar spring, such a legendary magic season. In the vestibule, the banyan tree is smoking slender buds, and many unknown little yellow flowers are swaying, like a string of crystal clear dreams.There are also quaint ferns, also kindly rolling lace along the corner of the wall.Ah, when did our vestibule become a series of narrow galleries. I walked into the room, turned on the lamp, and the color of ripe apricots was baked around me.The night was slightly cool, and there was some melancholy fragrance in the air.I dug out the gardenia flower from the book, which was picked from the mountains in the morning, and I carefully put it in the thick big dictionary. "What is it? It smells so good, is it a flower?" "It can be said to be a flower," I hesitated, "but in fact it was the spring of 1965—the first spring we all looked forward to." I felt my hand being held by a big, warm hand, and I knew what he was going to say to me. Birds singing in the distance came over in a mixed manner, and the sounds fell into our hut one after another, creating a kind of deepness in the forest——spring should be very deep and thick, I think.