Chapter 65 Qingming rain

I have nothing to say, I saw the rain and fog from the mountain rushing in waves, wetting one side of the earthen wall of the cowshed, wrinkling the water surface in the field that was going away with the wind, pushing forward , One after another, they disappeared into the reeds on the opposite bank.Then two or three wild ducks flew silently in the grass.The harmony of the stream became more and more loud and shattered, so that it was impossible to distinguish their original sounds, and they didn't know where they came from. There was only a rumbling sound between the sky and the earth, and the ground trembled faintly due to the agitation.I saw a wet dog at the door, barking in terror against the rain.

Under each eaves, there is a row of dripping pools of water, full of the eyes of the rain shelters who have nowhere to rest, and full of the bitter waiting of the Qingming Festival. The leaves all over the mountain are pattering crumbs. The rain in spring is enthusiastic, confident, mighty and smooth, and it is an eruption that has been prepared for a long time from the depths of the years.In comparison, the rain in summer seems to be absent-minded and perfunctory again and again, the rain in autumn is a trance that looks back again and again, and the rain in winter is indifference.I am afraid that it is difficult for someone to look forward to the rain like an educated youth, so familiar with the sound and smell of every rain, and the temperature it leaves on the skin.Because only on rainy days can we drag our sore bodies back to the house, take a breath, and enjoy the precious opportunity to rest.

My daughter never liked the rain.For her, the rain in spring means the burden of rain gear, slipping and falling on the road, the fear of thunder and lightning, and the cancellation of sports games or outings.She will never understand that I can't help being excited by the sound of the rain, and she will never understand why there is always a downpour in my dreams about the countryside.She will never miss an era when she misses the sound of rain. Perhaps, I should be thankful for this. Now, it's raining again.The sound of rain always gives me a feeling; on the other side of the rain, on the other side of the rain, there is still a line of my muddy footprints in the rain, which emerge in every rainy day, in the swaying waves of the rain The mountain road fell into the depths of whiteness.