A tree of pear blossoms falls in the evening wind

The wooden pen teacher has a courtyard.

In the courtyard, there is a pear tree.

That pear tree, high and densely branched, grew pristine.

Every mid-spring, the courtyard of the wooden pen teacher is as beautiful as a frame painting: pear blossoms bloom slightly, thousands of flowers, press the branches low, white as snow, like the petals of the moon landing on the branches. One magpie after another, circling around, jumping up and down, moving left and right. Magpie vocabulary is monosyllabic, chirp-chirp-chirp, not as good as the harmonica played by the teacher. On a starry night, the teacher loved to play the harmonica under the pear blossoms, and the sound of the piano spread far and wide in the quiet village.

It was the end of the 1980s, and material life was barren, and barren life always felt boring. Unexpectedly, the colors and notes appeared on the boring days, which of course attracted us children, and naturally became regulars in the courtyard.

In fact, the teacher's house, like the house of the people in the village, is an adobe house, except that the house is surrounded by thorn strips. The thorns are about 2 meters high, and each plant is airtight and green. The place enclosed by thorn strips became a courtyard and was taken care of by the teacher.

In addition to this tall pear tree, there are four toon trees in the yard. At that time, the teacher's grandmother loved to hook the crimson toon buds with a bamboo pole tied with a sickle, and then smiled and told us: This spring bud (we Bailizhou people love to call the toon bud love to call it spring bud), fried eggs are delicious, cold mix, it is also delicious, dried in winter to eat, the taste is good. When she said this, the old grandmother, who always wore a white-washed coarse cloth cardigan and had silver hair pinned behind her head with a bamboo hairpin, was clean and refreshing, full of love. It turns out that people are old and can look good like this.

There are pear blossoms, there are spring buds, this is not unusual, what is strange is that there is a square table in the courtyard, with "October", "Harvest", "Juvenile Literature", "Little Stream", "Children's Literature", which is our most rare!

Often, the teacher's daughter reads at the square table, and the teacher also reads at the square table, and that square table connects the village and the outside world.

The yard was so quiet that you could hear the pear trees blossoming, the spring buds growing, the pencils writing on the paper, and the words dancing between the pages.

"Come, come and read the book!" This is the sentence that the teacher said to us the most.

Sometimes, the teacher reads aloud to her daughter under a tree with pear blossoms, and we listen from the side:

I have a big garden in which there are bees, butterflies, dragonflies, grasshoppers, everything. Butterflies include white butterflies and yellow butterflies. This butterfly is extremely small and not very good-looking. It's a big red butterfly, covered in gold dust.

Dragonflies are golden and grasshoppers are green. The bee was buzzing and flying, covered in fluff, falling on a flower, and the fat round one did not move like a small hairball...

The flowers bloomed, as if the flowers had woken up. The bird flew, as if the bird had gone to heaven. The bug barked, as if the bug was talking...

Our young childlike heart, with the teacher's reading, crossed the flowers, over the trees, over the clouds, over the sky, and arrived at the beauty beyond time.

You know, how boring our texts were at that time.

It turns out that language can also be expressed in this way, so beautiful.

Everyone's eyes have a sparkling light.

Isn't this the teacher's yard? The little friend sighed.

At this time, a small insect crawled on the thick old trunk of the pear tree.

"This little worm is called a inchworm. Come, I will teach you to write this scene: the inchworm on the vine, folding and stretching, folding and stretching, measuring the summer one by one. ”

The teacher said as he opened his thumb and middle finger to make a one-by-one gesture to show us, that sentence, that scene, I still remember.

What a literary enlightenment lesson that was!

That is, in the mid-spring when the pear blossoms are in full bloom, the poetic seeds are quietly sown.

To this day, I think about it, the pear blossoms that are squeezed on the branches, and the moment when the little friends under the pear blossoms are hit by the beautiful language, they are still in front of me.

Don't scold people and fight, but look at flowers, write and write, and read books to be interesting. Before leaving, the teacher warned us about the monkey babies.

Now that I think about it, is it a blessing from heaven to meet a reader in a barren village?

Later, it was learned that the teacher was one of the few high school graduates at that time, and returned to his hometown to become a primary school teacher for physical reasons. Although the rural life is barren, the teacher still raises flowers and vegetables, reads and writes in addition to teaching... In the most difficult years, there are still flowers, books, purples, and reds.

More than 30 years have passed, the wooden pen teacher is already the year of the flower armor, the earthen brick house was replaced by a small western-style building, but the courtyard where the thorns are fenced is still there, the pear trees in the courtyard are still there, and the toon is still there.

The little girl who studied under the pear blossoms sold a tree of zhou pears and a handful of toon buds to the end of the world on the Internet.

Those little friends who came to the courtyard at that time, although their professions were different, were mostly literary lovers, and like the wooden pen teacher, they lived the days of cabbage and turnips, living the taste of poetry, the melody of words, and the charm of flowers.

The wooden pen teacher, like his grandmother, still loves an orderly life, and cleans up the yard clean and refreshing.

There are still square tables, books, and harmonica in the courtyard.

When the pear blossoms are in full bloom, enjoy the scenery of a tree of pear blossoms falling in the evening breeze in the afterglow of the twilight.

Under the pear blossoms, in the evening wind, the wooden pen teacher is as good as the old grandmother, good-looking.

Source: Chutian Metropolis Daily (Author: Zheng Huarong)