Following a, I came to this small mountain village.
The disappeared into the woods, and I was attracted by the old abandoned houses.
Woodpeckers make a clattering sound, but they are hard to find.
The fountain is gushing and only the sound of it can be heard.
On the path of sheep dung and eggs, watching the ruins and old houses alternately displayed in front of you is like visiting an ancient battlefield. How many stories have been buried here? Looking at these old houses, some have collapsed and are full of vicissitudes; some red brick and green tiles are still intact, and the age is not too long; some half of the walls are bluestone bases, unique ingenuity; some lintels still have faint handwriting, courtyard style, and there are carvings on the roof ridge, which may have a hundred years of history.
A ditch divides the village into two parts.
Along the flowing water, down the ditch, about two hundred meters, there is a spring, perennial gushing spring water, the local people called Longfeng Qingquan.
Further inward, there is a forest, sparse and clear, quiet and not silent. The weeds on the ground were thick and solid, like a green blanket. Blue wildflowers are out of sight. The smell of dirt and grass came over me, and I opened my mouth and breathed greedily. In this way, in an instant, I was conquered by the natural oxygen bar here.
I decided I wanted to stay here.
The sheep intestine path on the right hand side of the village to the liangyuan is suddenly open, and the mountain outside and the southeast are unobstructed, and the opposite mountain beam is like a phoenix, and the five tail feathers are clearly hung in front of the eyes. And the village is surrounded by mountain nests.
No wonder the village was called Phoenix Village in ancient times, and the mountain behind the village was called Phoenix Mountain. There used to be a phoenix temple on the mountain, and not far away there was a nine-room attic, perhaps called the Phoenix Pavilion. Today, it is gone, but many in the village can still pinpoint the site of the ruins.
The old horse let out a tearing cough, really worried that he would cough up his lungs. When his children became a family and worked outside, he lived in the old village, doing some bits and pieces of work and earning a little pocket money.
Old Xing had a lot of things in his belly, and he had originally worked in the logistics of the Foreign Language Institute, but he retired, thinking about the increasingly mottled old mansion, he wanted to make his previous carpentry skills come in handy, and he had the idea of picking up the old house.
The eldest lady at the south end of the village is almost eighty, brought some toon, said that she can't eat it to give it to me, I actually ate and picked a lot elsewhere in the past few days, or took it, hard stuffed to give her a little money, she is not easy.
My favorite village is the morning or evening, quiet and peaceful, the breeze is gentle, and the birds are singing happily. At the moment, like these plants, I am a member of the village.
A wild cat stood in front of me, not moving forward or backward, but a little frightening, seeing that I did not retreat, it turned and slipped up the back hill.
One after the other, one sniffed the hem of my pants and ran forward, the latter hesitated for a moment and chased after me happily.
In May, the morning in the mountains is still a little cold.
The village is quiet at the moment.
Before people woke up, I was like a bird and a finch, walking slowly on a path, singing happily in my heart.
Although he is a bird, there is a phoenix flying in his heart.
Source: Xi'an Evening News