The yard is square, only 100 square meter, but it is bathed in elegant freshness. The surrounding ancient city walls are covered with lush ivy and graceful vines, like dense green nets, trying to capture the sparse and falling sunshine. An early planted vine has now produced a dazzling string of pearls. The wisteria of vines are planted all over the yard by my mother. The longest stem touched the running tile on the roof of the main house. The main stem of the grape is strong and tough, and the tentacles on the auxiliary stem are also full of vitality, firmly grasping every opportunity on the road of life.
The grass in the yard grows freely within their jurisdiction, gently facing the sun, and they live in harmony with flowers, vines and vines without losing the elegant boundaries. Those buttonwood trees have been growing for decades, and the owners who planted them have been walking by crane for many years. Now, these old buttonwood trees have scattered all their branches, and the rich leaves have turned into green Wang Yang, which has filled the space of the whole courtyard. Sunlight has to swim in the green Wang Yang, occasionally escaping from the gap where the breeze blows. If angels bloom on the green net of Parthenocissus tricuspidata and in the grass.
Will there be wind in such a deep yard?
The wind is there. When the plane tree leaves are gently pulled, the wind will follow the branches like an elf, along the wisteria, and the sunlight escaping from the bundles will float to the ground and brush on the stone table in the courtyard, making the fragrant tea in the calm cup faint. At this moment, the whole body is so refreshing and the breath is so light. ...
Mother never pruned those flowers, but sprinkled grass ash under the plants from time to time and watered them for many days without rain. Mother never puts potted flowers in the room. When she is busy with housework, she always likes to sit quietly on the stone bench, and she prefers to pay attention to the green flowers in the yard and show a gratified smile.
For many days, I seem to have turned into a lilac, enjoying it quietly in this ancient courtyard. ...
Courtyard lyric prose 2 How deep is the courtyard? The willow piles up smoke, but the curtain is not heavy. Ouyang Xiu's "Dead Hua Lian" is like an ink painting, with shallow scenery and deep words, only a few strokes, describing the residence of a dissatisfied wife, and the lines are filled with sad feelings and endless meanings.
The courtyard is deep and the grass is flourishing. There is a small yard at home, which is pleasing to the eye. A rain in early autumn, waving goodbye in hot summer; An early autumn rain, refreshing autumn came quietly. The plants in the yard are more important. The story is continuous.
Plums, from green to ripe, only took half a month. In half a month's time, I saw the spring scenery of Li Shu and Xia Guo with my own eyes. I still remember four years ago, when my daughter was thinning fruit for plum trees by her father, her daughter was not sensible. She hugged her father's leg and cried badly. This year, plum trees are full of fruits. She thinned the fruit herself. I made her stop crying this year? She said that the biology teacher taught plants to lose fruit. Otherwise, there will be years and years, and the fruit will not be sparse, and the fruit will not grow well and will not grow through. In order to eat delicious fruit, I have to give up what I love. It is a great comfort for parents that children can apply what they have learned.
With a trace of nostalgia and attachment, only two or three plum trees are left to look after the trees.
Next, grapes. From green to red and then to purple, the slurry changed from sweet and sour to sweet and mellow, and the wine aroma was brewed in this sweet and mellow. The compulsory course every day is to pick grapes with my son in my arms. "Mom, that must be very sweet. Give it a try. " "Dad, that's the biggest one. Help me choose. " In the morning, under the grape trellis, greet the new day with the crisp and pure sounds of nature from children.
While tasting fruits every day, there are also vegetables to see and eat.
There are also: winter melon, bitter gourd and gourd in the yard. We were all surprised. There are many fruits on vegetables this year, but they grow slowly and vines don't grow as fast as in previous years. My daughter said: I watched TV. I played it on the farmer channel. You see, I pierced a hole in the root of each vegetable with a small stick. I opened the branch and took a closer look. Sure enough, there are four or five jujube branches about 1CM in the root of bitter gourd. I did eat six bitter melons this year, and now there are seven or eight hanging on the branches. I asked my daughter why she tied the bitter gourd root. The daughter replied, let the nutrition of the plant go to fruit, and don't let it grow vines and leaves wildly. These vegetables have a different taste: light sweetness and deep freshness.
No ripe fruit, grow in expectation.
Persimmons and black dates hang on the branches, and occasionally a persimmon falls from the branches, and the whole family will sigh.
Actually, I didn't grow any plants here. Our predecessors planted trees, while our descendants enjoyed the cool. That's the truth.
How deep is the yard? How much affection there is!
Courtyard Lyric Prose 3 Brick walls and red walls are lined with tall buildings. Although it is not as bright as the neon lights in big cities, this familiar city that I once lamented that I have forgotten seems to have lost its local flavor for many years overnight. Maybe it's just my feelings and my sadness.
After leaving for half a year, looking back at the pattern in the village, I always feel that everything has changed, maybe it's just my eyes and feelings. The cause should be attributed to the disappearance of my own yard. Dozens of small yards that accompanied me in spring, summer, autumn and winter were mercilessly drowned in the cold past, leaving only memories ... and replaced them with the courtyard of Xue Rou with sunshine, rain and dew, and moved my favorite apricot trees mercilessly. Open the door, even if it is sunny, it will be dark. Staying for a long time will make you feel isolated from the outside world. Wind, frost, rain and dew, natural changes have nothing to do with me. This feeling of being shrouded in darkness is really terrible and depressing ... I like to look up at the starry sky at night, watch the twinkling of the stars and the moving light of the bright moonlight, enjoy the light blue and simple white of clear Wan Li, and listen to the unique comfort of fields and villages in the quiet atmosphere of the night sky. However, now I can only keep this dark world, and I can no longer pursue my own small world.
In the past, when I was sad, I always liked to stand alone on the roof and look at the surrounding scenery, because my family lived at the east end of the village, which was the last one in our row of streets and lanes, next to the farmland, and the view was fairly broad. Before Gai Lou, there were houses lined with poplars, and tall branches and green leaves stood on the roof, even within reach. Although there are caterpillars that I hate and fear most in summer, won't they become beautiful butterflies one day? But it's all gone, and it won't appear ... When the weather is clear, you can see the sunset hanging at the tip of the western hills and the flaming sunset glow burning on the horizon in the evening. It's beautiful, intoxicating and shocking. However, now I can't see anything. I am trapped in my brick house, and I can't see the sunset and the red sunset. The scenery in the east can barely be photographed, because through the window, the whole green cornfield, tall and straight trees and towering Songshan Mountain in the distance are sometimes hidden in the fog, and under the light blue and white sky dotted with clouds, * * * together form a simple but quiet and beautiful picture, but unfortunately, limited by the size of the window, I can't look up and look around. Am I too greedy?
Now, I don't like staying in the "yard" and the dark house. There is no starry night sky and no courtyard with green trees and red flowers. Only I stare blankly at the open window above the bedroom wall to convey my infinite imagination, give me light and a breeze.
Am I sentimental alone? I hardly know this place where I have lived since I was born, this village with my 22-year memory, and this village with my unique and happy childhood. Although all this may indicate the development of the times, the construction of new countryside, the cultivated land of every household is gradually decreasing, children grow up and become married, maybe home is still home, but people have changed, increased or decreased ... The small village I know and remember has expanded and people have changed. Time has left traces on us, and we live our own lives, without affecting each other or communicating with each other ... so we hardly know each other.
After all, the boredom at home needs to be released, and a person comes out for a walk, taking advantage of the cool breeze in the evening, when there is no sinister red sun shining. Walking on the street I used to know and looking around, it is obvious that I have lived in my hometown for 22 years. The same pattern, the same family and the same "wind" seem the same, but the essence is quite different. Different age, different mood, different me. Looking around, there are fewer trees, and the house is even taller than the green trees. Walking on the road, I can't see the green hills and the sun in the distance, not because of other reasons, but because the height of the house exceeds the golden ratio. The green hills are still there, but it's hard to wait and see ... Walking and being caressed by the wind, although I feel cool, I am suffocated by the flying dust, and my breathing is extremely uncomfortable, which can only make people disgusted and helpless. I want to dodge and leave quickly.
I don't know what tomorrow will be like, I don't know where the future road will go, I can't understand it, I can't help it, I cry, there is no bright and energetic lonely courtyard; Sentimentality, a city that has lost its natural vitality, has been destroyed and transformed.
Courtyard lyric prose 4 is the time when the campus blooms again. During the big recess, I leaned against the window and my eyes wandered around the world. There are no embroidered lilies on the blue sky wall, and there are scenery of "grass seems to be close but there is no" everywhere, which conveys a subtle prosperity to people. Looking at the rows of bright and spacious classrooms not far away, the energetic faces are unconsciously filled with smiles. This situation, this situation; At this time, this life. Lush and quiet years. Suddenly remind of Xi Murong's poem? "I didn't meet you at the best time, but because of you, I had the best time." When the flowers bloom, write a group of small poems for yourself who don't want to grow up in the depths of time, for the swaying flowers here, and for young friends who swim upstream in the same river of youth.
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(1) youth
Do you still remember those days when the spring breeze was slightly drunk? In my hometown, a small town in the north, there was no shadow of birds singing and flapping. I held my chin up and thought about the appearance of a bright future in the south of the Yangtze River. Some mindless sentences flowed from my pen. While describing the beard of the math teacher carefully, you suddenly tugged at my messy braid with a wry smile and showed me the scribbled notes at the back of the front row. Do you remember those days when cicadas were sparse and we put on kappa back to back? You squint at the brand of ice cream in your hand, I look up at the shadow of clouds on the sky wall, fake headphones hang down blue jeans, and we listen to Days in beijing east road with our fingers locked. If friendship is a string of crystals, then we will make a warm and delicate box for it with "respect", and then cut it with "tolerance" to make it a soft and clean Puckilo, and erase it from the secular sand forever.
(2) The story of lilac
Grandma's living room has suddenly given off a fragrance recently. It turned out to be the purple stained glass teacher in the corner. Today, I saw lilacs that reminded me of you. Our youth should be equally beautiful, but you entrusted it to boxes of pale chalk. Everyone doesn't like thousands of landscapes, but you are willing to lock yourself on the three-foot platform. The light and beautiful blackboard writing, the undulating arms guide the young people's forward trajectory, and the encouraging smile is on the desk.
(3) Are you still waiting in the courtyard of time? After more than 50 years of wind and rain, it has not caused the solemnity of dust. It is your unchanging attitude. Wen Ya is kind, and you have a mother's feelings. Are you still watching? Your shoulders are warm and loaded, longing and yearning, and your footsteps are sonorous and pass through setbacks and brilliant flowers. What can we do to repay your affectionate eyes, whether the eagle hits the sky directly or the fragrance of peaches and plums?
Courtyard lyric prose 5 The courtyard is deep, the spring breeze is gentle, and a wall of wisteria is swaying. A bunch of ziyun, caressing the thin leaves, shines with faint purple spots in the sun, calmly and quietly in the breeze, and grows a long dream soul of three generations in the accumulation of red dust and thin flowers in a hospital.
Take a bunch of purple gas, the inkstone is green in Mo Chi, and the morning light is a note, melting the spring into a dream and quietly falling on your pillow.
Gentle wind, stroking a wall of wisteria, passing through the cracks of vines, moistening the fragrance and clearing the garden. Breeze Ziyun, grey Zen kingfisher, crisp voice, clarinet, a yard full of fragrance.
A spring rain, Ran Ran, pattering, rustling. The lingering of warm nights, the lovesickness of pleasant spring rain. Long rain lines catch distant poems and streamers, and warm a pot of strong tea after a long separation. Hold a lamp, light the fishing fire in the south of the Yangtze River, and flatter the clever girl with eyelashes. I kissed my hair and embroidered it with a pillow. There was a bottle of moon blue in front of the jade-like case, and there were petals in front of the spring shirt.
Listen to the rain by the window and whisper. The long figure was cut into pieces by the rain line and spread on the slate, and the rain man smashed it into pieces. In the distance, the single sail passed by, leaving a little dim light and disappearing with the wind. On the lampstand, several reflections flashed, and the branches of the willow were spun into cocoons and rhymed into flowers.
A window is drizzling, and a column is fragrant. Show a poster in the courtyard, splash ink on the inkstone, draw blue marble, worship Buddha and burn incense, and spread April love all over the courtyard.
Gently turn around and look back, a morning light, a cloud, a journey of mountains and rivers. Married to the bride of the years, the red scarf covered her cheeks, and Yi Deng's candlelight gesture finally sank into the fleeting time.
The courtyard is deep and the spring breeze is gentle.
Ten miles into the night, a hundred acres of dark dreams and dying moons are cold, wisteria withers in the depths of the courtyard, and swaying leaves fall off one after another. Is it the deep courtyard, the chilly spring, the four-leaf flowers in the wild, or the bodhi planted in the heart? The courtyard is surrounded by thousand-year-old blue bricks and blackened thin tiles, depicting the years of ash and grass as a line and a painting. Perhaps, the clear sky warms the courtyard and kisses the spring breeze. Everything has become the past, and we can only collect our own hearts.
Dye green branches in spring, peony in summer, red leaves in autumn and plum in winter. Palm red dust, planting a piece of moonlight. The courtyard is deep and colorful, and the spring breeze blooms gently on the trees.