The first time I went to Wuyuan was in midsummer, and I was in a good mood. I drove away at the weekend, and it was already dinner time when I arrived in Wuyuan. Fortunately, the days are long in summer, and it is still bright after 6 o'clock. However, Wuyuan at this time, without the noise of the day, the tourists have dispersed, the stalls are empty, the smoke in the village is curling, and Wuyuan has returned to its original appearance.
Wandering around the village all the way, the old lady fanned the wind with a cattail leaf fan at the door. In the dark back room, fire and smoke drifted with the aroma of food in the dim light. The food on the old wooden table smelled of smoke, and occasionally there was a cough or two. What's left is the sound of the collision between spatula and iron pan, friction, friction … like the years in old movies.
? Dashiban Road has a long history. It is bumpy. There is a clear narrow road in the middle of the big slate. It is said that this is the post road in the past. The narrow road is the rut mark left by the unicycle of the years, which still exists today, silently telling the world the story of the past.
Walking, the sky gradually darkened, the voices in the village gradually faded, the frogs in the roadside rice fields gradually rang, and a small snake with a thick thumb wriggled and slipped into the rice fields across the road. I'm nervous, scared and excited. He dared not go any further and returned to the village.
As soon as I entered the village, under the small stone bridge, the light bulb hanging on the big tree shone, and there was a bamboo chair in the gurgling stream. A teenager sat on a bamboo chair, soaking his feet in the stream, enjoying the cool while reading, and beside the bamboo chair, he also used a net to catch watermelon and soaked it in the cold stream. This scene made me stunned. How did the scene in the dream appear? The naughty little brother threw a stone into the water, which startled the teenager and made him shout and woke me up from my trance.
Trapped in a cage without freedom for a long time, I finally returned to the forest today. In Wuyuan, people have an indescribable comfort. Just like going back to their own home, they just want to find a comfortable chair to lean against, or simply find a bed to lie on, daydream, or think nothing. ...
In Wuyuan in summer, insects and birds sing, clouds flow over the top of the mountain, and the wind sends leaves to chase smoke, just like a village with blue bricks and white tiles, like a soft vine winding around the roots of everyone in China.