In winter, it is necessary to see the snow, but in Jiangnan, snow is a very rare thing, and it is impossible to ask for it. But the rain is very generous, the impression is that from the beginning of April in the birds and flowers to the cold winter years today, the rainy season is one after another, and at the beginning of the new year, a winter rain comes unexpectedly.
In the evening of winter, I woke up early in the morning, heard the rain falling from night to dawn, slowly pushed the window, and the smoke and rain were thick. I went through the poems about rain left by the ancients, maybe there was too little winter rain at that time, there were more poems about spring rain, summer rain, and autumn rain, but there were very few about winter rain, and I guessed that maybe winter rain lacked a kind of poetic romance that triggered poets.
In the world of rain, some people like to walk in the rainy alley with an oil-paper umbrella in the spring and summer, how poetic, how romantic. And when the winter rain meets you unexpectedly, there are wonderful umbrellas, wonderful verses, and because of the cold, you can't lift a little interest, not to mention the less lilac-like woman, less wandering worries.
The existence of all things always has its meaning, and the winter rain is neither as fine and soft as the spring rain, nor as noisy as the summer rain, nor as silent as the autumn rain. Winter rain makes all things understand: don't linger on the delicacy of spring flowers, don't give up the passion of summer, don't indulge in the fullness of autumn, don't refuse vitality in winter. It always treats everything with a bland attitude, a tolerant attitude, and an affectionate look. You close the window, you cover the door, it still sounds in your ears, haunting your heart; you open the door and window, it is still bit by bit...
Outside the window, the gray world, the tufts of burnt yellow on the branches seem to have become the only color, the dead yellow leaves on the ground are more than in the past, soaked by the rain, glowing with cold water, suddenly shocked how time is so hurried, inadvertently, the world changed color.
The room is heated, warm and makes people forget the miserable wind and cold rain outside the window, the leaves of the plants in the corner of the wall stretch, giving people the illusion of autumn, the purple roses on the tea table bloom gracefully, splendid to the extreme, a tea room, warm colors, simple and silent, in my opinion, it is tender.
The water was boiling and bubbling, and the tea was slowly spilling in the cup. At this moment, the world outside the window has nothing to do with me, twisting a wisp of tea, I just want to guard this half of the quiet time.
I sat at the window and watched the winter rain in a daze. It seems to be weaving the love web of winter, covering the world, sprinkling from the sky, floating alone in the window of flickering light and darkness, the years that have passed, the people and things that have gone away, waving to me in the blurred light and shadow. The four seasons have different variations of rain, and there are countless people with different stories in the world. In the eyes of these people with different stories, rain naturally has a big difference. In the frustrated, the rain adds to the sorrow; in the proud, the rain has a special taste.
On this winter morning, the sound of winter rain outside the house can cause a lot of reverie, and all things are silent, which is the most suitable for meditation. At this time, there is rain knocking on the window, drifting down from the distant sky to accompany you, listening to you tell the deepest secrets of your heart. You are listening to the rain, and the rain is listening to you.
As Mr. Wang Guozhen said: "There are many things in this world that you can taste in contrast. When the heart is clear, the rain is also clear; when the heart is raining, the sun is also rain. However, no matter what the story is, it will be unforgettable when it rains. Rain has a magic: it can diffuse into a mood, soak into an atmosphere, engrave into a memory."
The rain "drips and clicks" has not stopped, in such a situation, listening to the heart of a rain, even if I don't want anything, just listening to the rain is pouring out, endless, that feeling is naturally wonderful.
Can't help but remind me of Dai Wangshu's "Rain Lane", that lilac-like girl, must be dressed in a pale cheongsam, holding a wooden rain umbrella, pulling up her hair, eyebrows like a yuan dai, bright eyes, cinnabar slightly rippling, step by step, falling flowers, a little sadness, she seems to be waiting for the return of people in the rain in Jiangnan?
Ordinary also has ordinary elegance, leaning on the window to listen to the rain is very ordinary, rain is the flower in the eyes of this ordinary person in the winter. The rain fell on the heart, and one flower after another blossomed, forever prosperous.
Although winter is severe, the rain falls into flowers. I stopped in this rain with grace, my heart was as quiet as water, and I only wished, forever intoxicated!