Flowers are as big as soy sauce dishes. It is in full bloom and covered with trees. Because of the fragrance of flowers, many bees are attracted and buzzing in the rose tree.
When everyone else was tired of playing, I thought of picking roses, picking a lot of straw hats and holding them in my hood. There are two fears when picking flowers. One is that bees are afraid of stinging people, and the other is that roses are afraid of stinging people. I finally picked a lot, but I didn't know what to do after I finished. Suddenly whimsical, how beautiful this flower would be for my grandfather.
Grandpa squatted on the ground and pulled weeds, so I put flowers on him. Grandpa only knew that I was playing tricks on his hat, but he didn't know what I was doing. I gave him a circle of flowers and twenty or thirty red flowers in his straw hat. Hear grandpa say:
"It rained heavily this spring, and our roses are blooming very well." Erli Road was also afraid to smell them. "
He made me tremble with laughter. I can hardly support it.
When I finished, my grandfather was still worried. He is still pulling up the grass on the ridge. I stood in the distance. I dare not look at my grandfather. I just want to laugh. So I took the opportunity to go into the house and find something to eat. Before I returned to the garden, my grandfather walked into the house.
Grandma saw the red flower as soon as she came in. Seeing that she said nothing, she smiled. Mom and dad laughed, too. I laughed the most and rolled on the kang.
Grandpa took off his hat and saw the fragrance of roses not because of the heavy rain this spring, but because they were spent on his head.
He put down his hat and laughed for more than ten minutes. After a while, he remembered and smiled again.
Grandpa just forgot one thing, so I just carried it beside him and said:
"Grandpa ... it rained heavily this spring ..."
As soon as I mentioned it, grandpa's smile came. So I also began to roll on the kang.
So day after day, grandpa, backyard, me, these three are also indispensable.
It's windy and rainy, and grandpa doesn't know what to do, but now I'm lonely. Nowhere to go, nowhere to play, it feels like a long day.
three
It happened that the backyard was closed once a year. After the autumn rain, the garden began to wither. It seems that all the flowers went out as quickly as possible, as if someone had destroyed them. They are not as healthy as before. They seem tired and want to have a rest. They seem to want to pack up and go home.
Big elms also have leaves. When grandpa and I occasionally sit under a tree, the leaves actually fall on my face. Leaves flew all over the backyard.
Before long, it snowed again and the backyard was buried.
The back door to the garden was also sealed with mud, which was thick and frosted all winter.
There are five houses in my family, two for my grandma and grandpa and two for my mom and dad. My grandmother lives in Westinghouse and my mother lives in East Room.
It is a row of five main rooms, with a kitchen, glass windows, blue brick walls and tile houses in the middle.
Grandma's house, one is the outer room and the other is the inner room. There is a big bedroom, a long table and a plush chair in the outhouse. There are red cushions on the chair, cinnabar bottles on the sleeping box and clocks on the long table. There are covers on both sides of the clock. There is no hat on the hat tube, and a few peacock feathers are inserted.
I liked this kind of peacock hair when I was young. I said it has golden eyes and always wanted to touch it with my hands. My grandmother won't let me touch it. My grandmother is a neat freak.
There is also a clock on my grandmother's bedroom, which is very strange. It shows a big girl in ancient costume as if she were alive. Whenever I go to grandma's house, if there is no one in the room, she always stares at me with her eyes. I told my grandfather several times, and he said:
"That's a picture. She won't stare. "
I must say, she will stare, because I can see that her eyes seem to be turning.
Grandma's big bedroom is also carved with little people, all dressed in ancient costumes, taking off the big sleeves, tops and feathers of her coat. It's engraved all over the box. There are about twenty or thirty people, and there are people who drink, eat and bow. ...
I've always wanted to take a closer look, but my grandmother wouldn't let me in. I'm still far away, so she said:
"Don't touch it with your hands. Your hands are dirty."
In my grandmother's back room, there is a weird wall clock hanging on the wall, and two iron-eared rice are hung under the wall clock with chains. Iron bag rice is much bigger than real bag rice. It looks heavy and seems to kill a person. It's even stranger to look inside the wall clock. There is a little man with blue eyes. The pendulum rings once every second. When the pendulum rings, the eyes move at the same time.
The little man with yellow hair and blue eyes is far away from me. Although my grandfather told me that she was Russian, I didn't recognize her. I don't think she looks like anyone.
So every time I look at this wall clock, I will look at it for a long time and look a little stunned. I thought: Does this young man always stay in the clock? Never come down to play?
The dialect of Hulanhe outsiders is called "Maozi people". When I was four or five years old, I had never met a Russian, thinking that she was Russian because her hair was curly.
Grandma has many other things besides these, because I didn't have anything else at that time, so I only remember these three or five things.
Mother's house doesn't even have such strange things. It's just ordinary gold-drawing cabinets, hat tubes, vases and the like. There's nothing to see. I don't remember.
The organization of these five houses, in addition to four rooms and a kitchen, has two tiny and extremely dark back rooms. A grandmother and a mother.
There are all kinds of things in it, because this is a storage room.
Jars and jars, boxes and cabinets, baskets and baskets. Besides your own things, there are other people's deposits.
It's dark there, so you have to go in with a light to see it. There are many mice and cobwebs there. The air is bad, and it always smells like medicine.
I think this storage room is very interesting. As long as you open that box, there must be some beautiful things in it, such as silk thread, silk strips of various colors, sachets, belts, trouser legs, horseshoe sleeves and embroidered collars. Antique, especially beautiful color. There are often blue earrings or rings in the box. I saw them. As soon as I see them, I want to play with them, and my mother often throws me one at random.
There are also some tables with drawers. When you open them, there are some interesting things, such as copper rings, wooden knives, bamboo rulers and Guanyin powder. These are things I have never seen anywhere else. This drawer is never locked. So I often open it at will, and once I open it, I search it indiscriminately. I have a wooden knife in my left hand and a Guanyin powder in my right hand. Cut it here and draw it there. Later, I got a small saw. With this small saw, I began to destroy things, sawing on the legs of the chair and sawing on the edge of the kang. I saw my own Xiao Mu knife.
Whenever I eat and sleep, I take these things with me. When I eat, I use this small saw to saw steamed bread. Sleep, dream, shout:
"Where's my little saw?"
The storage room seems to be a place for me to explore. I often open the door when my mother is not at home. There is also a rear window in this storage room, and there is a little light in the second half. I took advantage of this light to open the drawer, which was almost turned over by me, and there was nothing new. After a while, I got bored and came out. Later, I even took out a piece of glue and a rope and emptied all five drawers.
Besides drawers, there are baskets and cages, but I dare not move that. Everything seems to be dark. I don't know how thick the dust is and how many cobwebs there are, so I don't even want to move that thing.
I remember once I went to a very deep and far place in this dark room, and a loud thing hit my foot. I feel it. Hold it in a bright place. It turned out to be a small lantern. I scratched the dust with my finger to reveal a red glass.
I probably saw lanterns when I was one or two years old, but I didn't know them when I was four or five years old. I don't know what this is. I'll ask grandpa in my arms.
Grandpa cleaned me up and lit a foreign candle in it. I was so happy that I ran around the house with the lantern for several days until I broke it.
I met another piece of wood in the dark room. This piece of wood is engraved with flowers. When I touch it with my hand, it's not smooth. I took it out and saw it with a small saw. Grandfather saw it and said:
"This is a board for printing posters."
I don't know what a post is. My grandfather brushed a piece of ink for me to see. I only saw a few little people printed. There are also some messy flowers and words. Grandfather said:
"When our family opened the wok, it was printed with this post. It was hung up one hundred ... fifty, ten ... "
Grandpa printed a lot for me, and also printed some red ones for me with Japanese red.
There is also a hat with tassels from the Qing Dynasty, which I also took out and put on. He also took out the boss's goose feather fan many years ago and blew it. I turned over a bottle of Amomum villosum, which is a medicine for stomach trouble. My mother ate it, so did I.
Soon, I made all these things 800 years ago. Some of them were preserved by my grandmother, and some were the relics of my married aunt. They have been in that dark place for many years, and they haven't moved. Some are going to rot, and some are infested with insects, because those things have long been forgotten, as if there is no such thing in the world. And today suddenly came to their eyes, they were shocked and recovered their memories.
Whenever I take out a new thing, my grandmother sees it and says:
"This is how many years ago! This is your elder sister-in-law playing at home ... "
Grandfather saw it and said:
"This is your second aunt at home to her ..."
This is your aunt's fan, and that is your third aunt's flower shoes ... they all have a history.
But I don't know who is my third aunt and who is my elder sister. I may have seen it when I was one or two years old, but I don't remember it when I was four or five years old.
My grandmother has three daughters. When I grow up, they are all married.
It can be seen that there will be no children in twenty or thirty years. I'm the only one now. There was a little brother, but he was only one and a half years old, so it wasn't him.
What I left at home many years ago has never been touched. They live a life of neither advance nor retreat, but everything in the past has been forgotten, and they are not actively looking forward to the future. They just live in the rations prepared by their ancestors day after day without complaint.
When I was born, I gave my grandfather infinite joy for the first time. When I grow up, grandpa loves me very much. Makes me feel that in this world, having a grandfather is enough. What are you afraid of? Although my father's indifference, my mother's abusive words and my grandmother's acupuncture on my finger are nothing. Besides, there is a back garden!
Although the back garden was blocked by snow and ice, the storage room was found again. Everything here is endless, and there are things I can't imagine, which makes me feel how there are so many things in this world! And everything is fun and novel.
For example, I took a bag of paint, which is China's big green. Look at the glittering paint, but it turns green when I dye my nails. When I dyed my arm, my arm immediately flew like a leaf. It's really beautiful, and it's really puzzling, and I'm glad. Is it because I have children?
Got a piece of Guanyin powder. When this Guanyin powder is scraped on the door, the door becomes white, and when it is scraped on the window, the window becomes white. It's a little strange. Maybe my grandfather wrote it in black ink, but this is Bai Mo.
Got a round glass. My grandfather said it was a microscope. When he was taking pictures in the sun, he actually took a pack of cigarettes wrapped by his grandfather.
How delightful it should be, everything will change. You see, he is a piece of scrap metal. Maybe he is useful. For example, I found a square iron block with a small nest on it. Grandpa put hazelnuts in the nest and gave them to me. Fighting in this small nest is many times faster than biting with your teeth. Besides, my grandfather is old and probably has bad teeth.
I move out of that dark room every day, and there are new ones every day. Move out a batch, get tired of playing, break it, and then move.
Therefore, my grandfather and grandmother often lament.
They said it was many years ago. Even my third aunt was born. How many years ago was that? I got it from grandfather's uncle when we were apart. And who sent it? That house has been destroyed today, and this thing still exists.
It's my vine bracelet again. My grandmother said she was wearing this bracelet. One summer, she took a car and dragged my sister back to her family. On the way, she met a robber and took off the gold earrings instead of the bracelet. If it's gold and silver, how dangerous it is. We must rob it.
I listened to ask her:
"Where is my elder sister-in-law?"
Grandfather smiled. Grandma said:
"Your aunt's children are older than you."
That was forty years ago. I don't know. But the rattan bracelet is on my hand. I raised my hand and shook it for a while. It turns and turns like a windmill. The bracelet is too big and my hands are too thin.
Grandma often scolds me when she sees that I have moved all my old things out.
"You this child, nothing is you can't play. You are such a loser ... "
Although she said so, she can see it again in broad daylight, which seems to give her some satisfaction in her memory. So she said I was not very strict. Of course, I didn't listen to her. Should I take it or take it as usual?
Poetic Father and Mother (from Youth)
Feng Guixia at the beginning of the ancient city
Day after day, year after year, I read this magnificent poem by my father and mother with fascination. I study hard, tired and happy. ...
I started with my mother's black hair. Count them one by one and read them page by page. Just like when I was a child, I raised my little head and counted the stars in the sky. I can't count it today!
I started with my father's full and magnificent forehead lines. Count them one by one and read them page by page. The years that have passed quietly have carved criss-crossed "mountains and rivers" on your forehead. I gradually understand that mountains and rivers are full of vicissitudes of life!
I read my father and mother crazily. From spring to winter, from autumn to summer; From early morning to dusk, from late night to dawn; I read in the hot sun and I read in the storm. Studying hard, tired and distressed, the tears deposited in my heart accumulate in my eyes, flowing out for a summer and crying into a rainy season. Tears and rain have soaked my thoughts for thousands of times and become the most beautiful poems in my heart.
Mom is very hardworking. Mother is as common as a stone on a country gravel road, as simple as a mountain spring without any ingredients. Father is very busy. Spring sowing in March and April, autumn harvest in September, getting up early and getting thinner every day, which brought me enrichment. I am obsessed with my own pursuit, eager to enter the poetic realm of my parents one day, appreciate the meaning of poetic rhyme again and again, and accept the shock from the deep heart again and again.
Mother's poems are like a murmuring stream in the mountains, gentle, clear and intoxicating.
My father's poems are like pine trees promoted in the forest, which are tall and strong and admirable.
Mom's white hair was written as a curved question mark in the ground!
Father's stalwart body was frozen into an exclamation point in the wind and rain!
Father is not a poet, mother is not a poet, and I am not a poet. But my father's spine is a magnificent poem, and my mother's white hair runs through it. They eventually become brilliant life epic.
Father's poems and mother's poems blend with each other, forming a set of endless poems of truth, goodness and beauty in the world!
Motherly love sleepless nights.
My friend's business suddenly collapsed. He tried hard to make it right, but ended up in more debt. When creditors almost set foot on the threshold of the company, disheartened friends decided to hide in their hometown.
There are friends' hometown in the country. There is his old mother in her seventies at home.
A friend hiding in the country is like an uneasy and desperate mouse. Every morning, he will go to the river at the end of the village in a daze, and in the afternoon, he will drink with an equally frustrated old friend in the living room. That is the real "drinking". They hardly say a word, just pour wine into their mouths. It's trivial to say a few words occasionally, which is irrelevant. At night, he shuts himself in his bedroom and continues to drink or sleep. He seldom talks to his mother. He found that his mother always seemed to be sleepy. When he drinks with his friends, his mother always sleeps in the room. Sometimes my mother leans against the wall when sitting on a stool. No wonder my mother has reached such an age.
He was afraid to tell his mother that his business was losing money. He doesn't want his elderly mother to worry about him. He just told his mother that he was tired and wanted to come back and rest for a few days.
My friend is really tired. He even thought that maybe he would give up his previous career completely and hide in the country for life.
My friend lived in his hometown for two months. It is winter now, and the old house is wet and cold. Sometimes when he is sitting in the living room smoking, he will find his mother watching him quietly. His eyes greeted him, and his mother smiled and said, are you okay? When he said nothing, his mother stopped talking. He found a trace of anxiety and uneasiness in his mother's eyes.
That day, my friend drank too much wine again. He got up at night for fear of waking his mother in the next room, so he crept into his clothes and didn't turn on the light. When he opened the bedroom door, he suddenly stood there. He found his elderly mother sitting on a bench in the living room, covered with a blanket, shivering in the pale moonlight.
He turned on the light and asked his mother, What are you doing?
Mother said, nothing ... I can't sleep and can't think of anything.
My friend told me that he stayed up all night that day. He vaguely felt that his mother must be hiding something from himself.
The next day, under the questioning of my friend, my mother reluctantly told him that she wanted to watch him and she was afraid that something would happen to him.
Mom said you were lovelorn when you were eighteen. That time you cut your wrist with a knife, remember?
Of course friends remember. Indeed, he once committed suicide in a farce, for a girl. He always thought that suicide was an impulse of his youth and ignorance.
However, it has been so long. ...
Mother said that life is not satisfactory, is it? When you come back, I know something must be wrong with you. ..... owe someone money? ..... not afraid, how big something. ...
My friend told me that at that moment, he was in tears. Yes, what can he do to avoid his sensitive mother? Who in this world can know him like a mother? In fact, only from his sigh, mother can accurately guess his situation.
And the elderly mother was afraid that he would do something stupid, so she secretly guarded him in the cold living room for two months on a long winter night! For two months, my mother didn't sleep for a minute every night!
My friend left home the next day. Before leaving, he hugged his 70-year-old mother. My friend told me that it was the first time he hugged his mother.
Now, my friend's company is still in recession and the debt has not been paid off. But he told me that he worked hard every day. He has no choice but to succeed.
He told me that, in fact, getting ahead, returning home with clothes, embodying values and realizing ideals have all become secondary. He works hard because he must succeed, and only because he wants his white-haired mother to have a good sleep every night.
Zhao Ping is excerpted from Special Concern