There are dried locust flowers for sale at the vegetable market brine goose stall, twisting a handful to smell, light incense. I want to buy them, but I am afraid that I will not be able to cook them, so I abruptly stop them.
More than ten years ago, a small acacia tree grew out of thin air in the small bamboo forest in front of my house, and it blossomed and scattered leaves year after year, and finally waited for the flowering period. Ten years of trees, a hundred years of tree people, not false at all. Last year, the locust flowers were scattered and scattered, and there was no climate. This year, after a few rains, the ears of flowers in the trees are densely packed and hanging low, which is worthy of "the locust flowers are like a pile of snow overnight". Nothing, I like to stand on the balcony and watch, depressed white, with a distant meaning in my heart. Entering and exiting the south gate of the community, you must pass under this locust tree. One day, very hot weather, I took two lettuce in my hand and hurried home, suddenly a strong wind, a long wind, locust flowers fell all over, the poetry of that moment, the rough and busy life was also diluted, and the heart was relieved for no reason.
Take a walk at dusk, walk not far, and turn around the neighborhood. Recently, the fruit of many trees has gradually become full, which is worth seeing again. I stood on my back under the peach tree, under the apricot tree, under the plum tree, quietly watching the fruits of different shapes, and my heart was extremely happy. Most of these trees are planted by people on the ground floor and flourish year by year. The peach is the size of a ping-pong ball, the blue is a faint red, the peach mouth is slightly raised, moving like a move, like my child doing homework suddenly ran over and kissed my cheek, as cute as a small animal. Apricots, green and green, growing next to the branches, the wind comes, the apricot leaves rush to gather, only the remaining apricots are motionless. Most of the fruit of the fruit trees is borne by the bodhisattva with a low brow, only the fruit of the papaya begonia grows upwards, like the adults in the early years described a person as arrogant - walking with his nostrils facing the sky. Papaya begonias are so arrogant, shaped like pears, not pears, but Korla pears, turquoise, one by one, full of energy, belly long to the sky.
Recently, the wind and rain have been fierce, and the Japanese sweet persimmon tree in my house has fallen all over the ground. I shouted at the child, come and see, the wind has blown the little persimmons down a lot. He ran over, calmly: Well, it's nature's survival of the fittest, and the strong fruits are left on the trees. Yes, persimmons bear too many fruits, and the wind and rain of early summer personally help us to clear the fruit.
I can't forget it. One year in the middle of summer, in a small northern city, was rushing the road, suddenly, a pomegranate in the alley bloomed full of trees and white flowers, between heaven and earth, the holy beauty flowed silently, let people see and see... In the early years, the child had a nosebleed in the middle of summer, and the old man passed on a recipe: white pomegranate flower stewed old duck. Even if I ran all over the Chinese medicine store, I couldn't find a single white durian flower... There are many pasts in life, why not "search for everything but lose, but do not expect but in hand"? Once wrote about this, a Xi'an girl left a message saying that there are pomegranate trees in her city that are blooming white flowers... I wish she had picked some to dry and sent it to me.
White flowers are rare and precious, white peony, white peony, white chrysanthemum, white gardenia, white hydrangea, white orchid... White, like a person with a simple heart, straight but does not know how to turn, the eyes can not tolerate sand grains, a little stained with a little ash, they are decadent, it is also tragic, and those who need to understand it are cherished.
In this direction, the magnolia is in the flowering season, and it is also a tree that blooms until late autumn. The large leaves of the broad magnolia leather, shining in the sun, have the texture of gold leaf, and pass under the plain tree, as if there is no body temperature of indifference, not too close to the human tree. These days, the big white flowers began to wither, not the whole branch, but a petal fell, perched in the grass, from a distance, like a white porcelain spoon scooping soup, slowly, the edge of the petals, it also decayed yellow roll...
Take a walk in the dark of night and never smell the scent of camphor flowers again. At the end of the year's flowering period, "the east wind is powerless and a hundred flowers are broken", the fragrance is so short, as if a dream has not reached the head and wakes up, it is a belated pity and gratitude. One day, I went to Tuina, and there was high-decibel pop music indoors. When I lay down, the tuinar suddenly commanded Xiaodu: Xiaodu, light music. Later, the piano music suddenly appeared, like goose feathers floating on the water. There was also gratitude in his heart, and the tuinater even knew that a person with a nervous breakdown was afraid of noise.
Stand on the terrace and watch the clouds. Only in summer can you appreciate the celestial phenomena of the waves and clouds. The south wind blows, and the huge cloud of about one hectare rushes to the north, and there is a sense of movement of mountains and rivers, as vast as a giant whale entering the sea, and there is not a single star in the vast desert sky. I am a small person, standing on the ground, looking at it for a long time, and my vision is magnificent, bright, and my heart is far away. This is probably the induction of heaven and man.
Whenever I was bored, I went to the terrace to admire the plants for a while, slowly, and the mood eased. You see, even plants hold a Buddha's heart and surprise people. A white orchid in the neighbor's house has flower buds, and my turtle's back bamboo has come back from the dead and sprouted new leaves. Next, I'm going to start preparing shelves for the gourd vines of the future. Tomorrow I will dig up three or four gourd seedlings to send to my friends... Unfinished business. People are born to be bound by these trivial crumbs.
There are families around a pillar of street lamps, planted a few bushes of honeysuckle, year after year, vines around the lamppost to sway up, full of gold flowers and honeysuckle, wrapped around the street lamp blooming, snow-like white lights, gradually dimming... Every night, passing by this street lamp, it is really a distorted beauty. In such an ordinary beauty, there is a poetic heart, introverted, warm, like a slight fire, which ignites the whole night, and all the stars in the sky are lit. (Qian Hongli)