Zhang Mi's book cover of "Four Flowers: Notes on Nature in Jiangnan".
In the foothills, he met unexpectedly with "Four Hours of Flowers"
Text/Leaf Poems
In fact, carefully calculated, I have only met three times with Master Zhang Mi, but when we first met, we felt very kind, and it seemed that we were old friends reunited. This time, I had the privilege of preemptively reading The New Book that Master Zhang Mi had just published, "Four Flowers: Notes on the Nature of Jiangnan". Recently, I have been struggling with academic and life chores, and I am always unable to sleep at one or two o'clock in the morning. Sometimes, before I go to bed, I will pick up the book "Four Hours of Flowers" next to my pillow and read a few pages. This book has a temperature, probably like a hot water cup held in your hand in winter, it seems that someone in this cold night will tell the four-hour wind object, talk and listen to people, so that the body and mind can be comforted, and they have to sleep for a while. Read the heart touched, talk about this article to give gifts.
In this "Four Hours of Flowers", the most written and the most emotionally poured into is the various flowers and trees that the author saw in the flow of the four seasons in 2018. So, let's start with them.
Human beings were originally small clay people created by Nüwa, and the flowers and trees were transformed by the skin of the creator god Pangu, which was connected to the blood of the ancient gods: when Hongmeng was first opened, Pangu was alone, day after day, heading the sky and stepping on the earth, experiencing tens of thousands of years of star shifts. One day, his divine power was exhausted, and the giant-like body fell down with a roar. From his collapsed body, the majestic mountains rose from the ground, the rivers and rivers were vast and soupy, and the flow was endless, and from then on there were the sun, moon, stars, four poles and five mountains, rivers, lakes and seas, wind and rain, thunder, flowers, trees, and trees. In this way, flowers and trees are actually older and sacred than humans.
Man has life and death, flowers have glory and withering, and his life is short but beautiful. There is a lyric in "Dear Traveler" that I like very much: "Life is infinitely small, but it is also infinitely magnificent." "The more developed human civilization is, and the richer people's lives are, the more they will suffer from greed, anger, delusion, and suspicion. Flowers and trees have been silently watching the rise and fall of the world and the change of dynasties for thousands of years, watching the world wander in the red dust, half heart joy and half sorrow, full of wind and rain and full of scars. But flowers are always so pure, so poetic, they are born to bloom. They seem to know that their coming days are not long, and with each additional day of blooming, they are one step closer to the end of the flowering period. So they grow and blossom hard, leaving the most fragrant aromas and the most brilliant flowers at the best moments. Flowers have a hot but short life like a shooting star, and bloom without any regret before life reaches the end, which is why it is so touching at the moment when the flower blooms.
This "Four Hours of Flowers" records the four monsoons that the author encountered in the 365 days of 2018: every small flower, every fruit, every bird song heard, and every rain and snow that he experienced. But isn't this book a memoir of life? It also records everything in the fireworks of the world, and is also the epitome of the lives of all sentient beings. Life is probably like a chessboard composed of a grid, in this world we live in the chessboard called life step by step, the grid behind us is colorful, recording the years and years that have been walked, and the blank grid in front of us will also be stained with colorful colors because of the line. A little bit of beauty, a moment of heartbeat, a moment of encounter, has become permanent. Everything is the past, and it also paves the way forward.
People's memories are always associated with specific factors such as weather, temperature, smell, etc. Sometimes, on a déjà vu rainy day, a vague and rich fragrance of osmanthus flowers can touch the softest place in people's hearts and evoke infinite reverie about the past.
Of all the seasons, I like autumn the most, and I also like the osmanthus flowers that bloom in late autumn and have a strong aroma. But the osmanthus flowering period is not very long. The road from my dormitory to the grammar building is called Laurel Road, and the osmanthus flowers on this road have fallen golden after a few autumn rains, and there are almost no branches left. In order to retain the aroma, I found many different brands of osmanthus flavored perfumes and aromatherapy in the room, but in the end I got rid of Wushan and not the clouds. In the past, on this road to the hospital, there were always two or three friends from the undergraduate period around, but now it is mostly myself. I always felt that the noisy and hilarious days with them were gone. When you come like a spring dream for a long time, you will go to the clouds and find nowhere. In fact, if you think about it, graduation was actually only six months ago, why does it feel like it has passed away? But for me, it's enough to know that the people who care are all right somewhere. Just like knowing that at this time of the coming year, this road will still be the fragrance of guizi, because at some point in the future, we will eventually see each other again.
When I read the "December" section of the book, it was Exactly December 26, and Changsha ushered in the first snow of 2021. The tree in front of the study room was crushed by the snow and broke its branches, and it snapped and fell four grapefruits. I didn't dare to eat them, but I still braved the snow to pick them up and put them in the house, sniffing the seemingly innocent aroma, and feeling that I was much calmer when I wrote back. Before this, I hadn't even noticed that this tree that I would pass by every day was a grapefruit tree, which was really shameful compared to Zhang Mi's careful observation of the flowers and trees around her. Words that can touch people's hearts will never be cold records; people who love flowers and trees must also love life and cherish life.
After reading this book, I went to the flower shop on Lushan South Road and picked out a bouquet of small flowers for myself. I've always preferred the blue and white color scheme, so I picked a few crushed ice blue roses and daisies, and a white lily that bloomed just right. The small flowers bought from the flower shop and cut and sold, the process from bud to bloom to wither is only a week, fragile and beautiful. After cutting the flowers and placing them in front of my desk, I solemnly wrote in my notebook: "On December 30, 2021, in the foothills, I met a flower unexpectedly. "I think I'll come to this flower shop every Sunday in the future, and let this fixed day be the beginning and the end of my encounter with a certain bouquet of flowers." In such a winter, I can also have a thought and a slight expectation in my heart.
Last Saturday, on a full fifteenth night, I was walking alone on the road in front of the South Campus Logistics Building. The moon was lonely and cold, and it might not know that this day and night, someone had looked at it hanging in the sky. But on this day I know that the moon does not hesitate to shine its gentle moonlight on every hurried passerby, whether they stop for it or not. The same is true of flowers, even if Qingshi does not leave a name, but it has also been spared, born freely, died where it is, it is a happy life.
This essay was written to Sister Zhang Mi, to herself, and to every traveler in the vastness of time and space.
All four seasons are the season of flowers, and all four seasons are good times. May flowers bloom every day in your and mine hearts.
Zhang Mi, a university teacher and a member of the Chinese Writers Association, has published many books such as "Time and Yin Town", "Pale Youth", "Tiny Beauty", "Poetry Qingfen" and so on. The text is scattered in newspapers and periodicals, and he is a columnist and resident author of many ancient style and campus magazines.