I'd like to recommend some articles of my own to you, hoping they will suit you.

Wet the balcony in the fog

The taste of cherry

There are flowers in spring and bright moon in autumn. Flowers in spring are the most spectacular of the four seasons. Both humble wildflowers and magnificent peonies have their own merits. What I want to talk about here is cherry. Cherry blossoms are white and unobtrusive, and bloom among the green leaves. The flowers have withered, and the green leaves still exist, which provides indispensable energy for the children-fruits of the flowers to shelter from the wind and rain.

Isn't this a bit like our parents? If one of them left without saying goodbye and hurried on another journey of life, it would be difficult to leave green leaves to shelter us from the wind and rain and contribute to it. I remembered an essay called "The Unjust Angel Gone", which said that a single father of a divorced family worked hard for his children. When the children grew up, he just said: The unjust angel left. That's probably the best answer about divorce.

As soon as spring is over, cherries are ripe. At that time, catkins were flying, our children just put on shorts, and they were eating cherries.

The cherries are ripe, and the red cherries are dotted among the leaves, in clusters, which is very pleasing. My city is Tai 'an, and I wonder if other places are the same as ours. You can eat cherries in spring, and red cherries bring a little coolness to sleepy spring. Some cherries are not fully mature, but they look only half red and taste only sweet and astringent, just like our precious youth and our precious youthful love. Immature love is always sweet and astringent, just like this immature cherry. Ripe cherries are delicious. A cherry is full of fragrance, sweetness and freshness. Ripe cherries can also be decorated on cakes with different flavors, especially desserts. The embellishment of cherries makes these delicious cakes more lovely and attractive. Isn't this like our wonderful life? Cherry is a small ornament in a beautiful life. With its existence, life is more touching. This cherry is a mature love, an everlasting friendship, a feeling of sharing weal and woe, and a feeling of sharing weal and woe between husband and wife.

The beauty of cherries lies in embellishment. It occupies a decorative position and plays an unimportant role. However, when this position occupies your mind and this role goes deep into your heart, you will never underestimate them and they will become indispensable.

This is the cleverness of cherry.

Cherry's cleverness is not limited to this. I remember when I was a child, when the cherries were ripe, I often met unexpected guests, mostly magpies, who came with the belief of pecking all the cherries.

I remember an article saying that fruit farmers in a place picked all the persimmons and froze all the magpies that had lost their food for the winter, so the next year, pests flooded and persimmons were lost. Fruit farmers who have learned the lesson know the importance of magpies, and will deliberately leave some for magpies for the winter when they collect persimmons in the future. There are several ripe persimmons hanging on the persimmon tree that has lost all its leaves in winter, which is also a strange scenery.

When my grandmother collects cherries, she also leaves some for magpies and other birds to enjoy. I don't know why she did this, because our magpies here also have a place to eat in winter and won't starve to death. My grandmother has a good and simple answer to my question: "Try it for the birds." Yes, let the birds taste it, let them taste the cherry. This is a kind of kindness without asking for anything in return. As the Buddha said, "Doing good without asking for anything in return is true kindness!" "This seems to be a famous saying of Jigong. That crazy monk can always tell people's inner secrets and always show his best. This is the cleverness of Buddha and cherry.

A maple tree

Whether it's the silent spring flowers or the snow-covered boots, I can always think of that piece of green maple at some time. In the light and heat of summer, in the rain and wind of summer, it stretches its branches and leaves, absorbs the showers, grows heartily and exudes vitality. Sometimes birds sing on it, sometimes a breeze blows over its face, and sometimes raindrops fall on it. ...

Sometimes, we naughty children will climb on his shoulders.

That is a maple tree planted in the campus. In summer, everything is green. No one knows what it is thinking, no one knows what it wants to do, it just stands in the wind and watches us sing under the tree.

The sky on campus is always quiet and blue, and the blue sky is like a huge piece of glass. How happy that maple tree is when a bird flies in the sky or a white cloud floats by!

It held its head high and its branches and leaves sang tireless songs in the wind. It held its head high and looked at the clouds and birds flying overhead-birds are angels on the earth and companions of trees. When this tree is loneliest, birds will fall on it, whisper to it, tell it stories that happened on the horizon, and the secrets of clouds and the sun.

The sound of reading in school is often loud, and the sound of children's reading echoes in school for a long time. I think that tree should be a little dark after listening to our reading sound. If this tree has a soul, it should compose a modern poem with the words it has learned.

What should come will come eventually. For example, it is undoubtedly an event at the entrance to life and death for the maple tree. My family will pull a wire wrapped in fine wire and pass by the maple tree. The wire wrapped in wire is so tightly pulled into its body, but it is still alive. The wire was pulled straight by the locomotive, and when it passed the tree, it was pulled into its body without hesitation. Then, under the drag of the locomotive, it cuts open its skin, its meat and its blood and pulls it into its body.

I've been worried since I was in class. I am afraid it will break and end the glory of my life, but, you know, it is not dead. After class, I took a quick look. I saw the thick wire being pulled deeply into its body, and I seemed to hear it groan in pain.

The strangulation, just under its crown, next to the crown, the wire has been pulled into its body. If it has blood, it should shed thick blood!

I felt sorry for it, but I didn't say it. After many years, I opened the photo album of memory again, and its green image is still vivid. For example, yesterday, I looked at the fuzzy numbers in the photo album, only it was so clear.

After graduating from high school, I finally came to the big city and saw the scenery different from the mountain village. I breathe the air full of copper smell, walking in the busy but seemingly empty streets. All this disharmony will remind me of the maple tree that was pulled into my body by wires.

I miss it, but my maple, you are far away, will you miss me? I miss you like my mother in my hometown, but my maple, have you ever thought of me tenderly on a sunny day?

I suspect that something called responsibility is calling me back to the place where I was born and raised, because my roots are there. There are my maple trees and my folks.

But, can I go back? I can only work hard in the city, in order to survive, for the meager salary. I am as busy as a top, and I can only be like a top, otherwise there is no place to stand.

This is a tree without flowers. It looked at me in the wind, looked at me, and watched how I went upstream to find the meaning of life.

After I got married, I returned to that small mountain village. I saw a long-lost familiar face, but what I longed for most was the maple tree, which was pulled into my body by wires. I stayed on the hillside of the mountain village for the last period. I see a tree with a shade. It lives so smartly and comfortably.

That's a tree in the mountains, that's a tree that has taken root in my heart. It's calling me, calling me, I'll come back, I'll come back, my maple,

Cut off the moonlight

Wet the balcony in the fog

Perhaps, many things in memory will grow old with the passage of time, just like the cold plum cut in the wind. They drive in the cold wind, but they never tremble like our cowardly human beings. They just held their heads high in the wind and smiled at the snow. Whenever I see prunes in the wind, I will think of my childhood that was not brilliant. I remember that the color of childhood was gray, but my parents taught me to hold my head high and face life with a smile, so those not brilliant childhood memories were stained with thick and gorgeous colors.

The most unforgettable thing is the moonlight silhouette by the window.

I don't know what will stay in my memory and shine in the depths of my memory. I don't know, I don't know. All I know is that mom and dad's memory will never grow old.

Old warbler chicks, plump plums in the rain, cool breeze blowing my gray childhood. All the memories are wrapped in the deepest part of the sealed years. I only remember my mother's smiling face, so kind. I remember my mother taking us to the fields to do farm work. At that time, my mother was wearing coarse clothes. Her most luxurious dress is a wool coat, purple and black. When I snuggle up to my mother, I can feel her temperature.

I still remember my brother's anxiety as a toddler. His father taught him to walk. Every step he takes, his father smiles. I don't know what it's like to be a father I think my father laughed like that when I was a toddler.

Every step of my brother seems to step on my father's heart. I don't know how happy my parents were when my brother finally learned to walk.

In the countryside, the rain in Huangmei season can get wet for a summer. In Huangmei season, it is drizzling. I looked into my mother's eyes in the boundless darkness. Mother's eyes are always as bright as the starry sky and as bright as the moonlight.

The rain in Huangmei season, mixed with cool breeze, got into our hut. I was at the door, staring at the boundless darkness outside. I thought there should be a child's silence in my eyes. Those are eyes that don't know the taste of sadness. Those eyes are ignorant of the world and the hardships of the world. Unlike my mother's eyes, there is always a sense of sadness in my eyes. I always thought I came into this world to pay my debts. The debt I owed my mother in my last life will be repaid with the love of my life. The debt owed to my father in my previous life was paid by filial piety in my whole life. But God, how can I repay you? I owe them money again!

That seems to be another debt in the afterlife, which needs to be repaid with love.

There is always a faint sadness in my eyes, and my mother always wins. When I hesitated at the door, she just said to me, Ann, close the door! That's all. However, this sentence has made me have nothing to repay in my life! Mom, if one day, I really grow up-I don't know when I can grow up and swim out of my mother's eyes. If I really grow up, how can I repay my mother? I hope that at that time, my eyes can also contain my mother's smile and have the shadow of her smile.

Father's smile is always cynical. I think my dad is a smart man, and smart people don't care about small things. In the countryside, when the first camera appeared, almost every household took pictures. In the photo, my father's smile is still misty. Years later, I can still feel my father's uncontrollable joy in front of the camera. I see my father's armpit, with me on the left and my brother on the right. They are all smiling.

It rained heavily in Huang Meiyu that day. I saw my mother's stubborn eyes when she closed the window. The next day, the rain stopped, the wind died and the birds sang. A yellow bird, perhaps an oriole, flies over our yard. I know, it should be to see the mother's eyes, which are not understood by the world. They are the most touching and warm eyes when looking at children.

I will never forget it.

On that day, the moon was particularly round. I closed the door and went to bed. I looked at my mother in the light with my eyes open and my heart was warm. I don't know what is the most beautiful warmth. I just know that my mother's love is hard to repay all my life. To this end, I often deeply repent in my heart and deeply repent for my mother's love.

Then I saw the moon behind Huang Meiyu. In my mother's eyes, it flashed like a silhouette. On the glass of the window, it also flashed by, just like a cold light that was cut off.

Intermittent rain in Mao Mao during rainy season in the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River.

The rain in Huangmei season soaked my summer. I snuggled up at the door, waiting for my mother to come home from farm work.

At night, Yi Deng is like a bean, and I feel a sense of security when I look at my mother's careful mending in the dim light. I remember what a cleaner said. At that time, someone asked him what he wanted most after eating and wearing warm clothes. He replied, "Safe." Yes, it's safe. Chickens will feel safe under the wings of hens, and all small creatures will feel safe under the wings of their mothers. Only when we grow up, we get some things, such as youth and beauty, but we also lose some things, such as a sense of security, which can only be obtained in our mother's arms.

In the Huangmei season, the rain falls continuously. Before going to bed, my mother said to me, "Ann, close the door." So I got up and walked to the door. I saw the boundless darkness outside the door. The night seems to be a big steamer, which surrounds everything. I can't hear birds singing, I can't hear chickens whispering, only the rain and rustling.

I held out my hand and the rain fell in my hand. I took back my hand, and then by the faint candlelight, I saw a little quiet and moist in my hand. I was about seven years old that year.

Seven-year-old rain, Huang Meiyu, falls, falls, falls. I looked at the boundless darkness outside the door and felt a little helplessness in my life for the first time.

"Ann, close the door." That's my mother's voice. I heard you. I reached out again, picked up some raindrops, withdrew my hand, stopped looking and closed the door.

Close the door, everything is shut out, boundless darkness, seven-year-old Huang Meiyu, and that little helplessness, everything, everything is shut out. In the room, it is dim candlelight, and the flame is beating weakly. I saw my mother's face, and it looked very peaceful in the candlelight. Yes, that was Huang Meiyu when I was seven years old, and that was Huang Meiyu when I was seven years old, which moistened my young mind.

Everything is so quiet in the rain. Our cabin should be a different kind of scenery in the rain. The paper window was on, and some candles leaked through the door. On a quiet night, it looks so quiet.

I snuggled up to my mother, and she didn't know what hesitation I had just had. It's like walking alone in a long rainy lane with no one to accompany me. I looked at my mother's kind face, and I didn't know what I was worried about when I was young. I gradually fell asleep in the candlelight. In my dream, the candlelight kept jumping and jumping in the quiet rainy night, which was a tribute to life.

The candlelight that night

Tonight, the bright moon rises, illuminating and bringing light to the earth. At that time, there was no moon, only red candlelight lit up my childhood heart.

At that time, I didn't know there was a word in the world called "Candle shadows shake red". I only know that the red candlelight reflected my mother's face and my young heart that day.

How can we count the number of poems praising mothers in the world? I only know that my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world in my young mind. The candlelight of that night kept beating on the night of power failure, and the trembling flame told an ordinary story. I know that behind every ordinary story, there must be an extraordinary life, just like the calm water, there are often turbulent undercurrents below. Still water runs deep, which is the truth.

I looked into my mother's eyes, shining like a star on a summer night. The brightest star should be mom's eyes.

That night, the red candlelight left an indelible mark on my monotonous life. I know that not everything will leave a mark on your heart. "The water is still there, and the wind has passed without a trace." This statement is correct. It is often said that it is not unreasonable to let the past drift with the wind. After all, people's hearts are fragile and overwhelmed. I remember there was a bug called slug in ancient Chinese. It climbed high with everything it encountered along the way, but it climbed too slowly and finally fell to death.

But moths are different. Some people hope to discover the mystery of life through the wings of water moths, but I can't. I just watched that night by candlelight. The candlelight that night, through a thin layer of red paper, filled a small room, where my mother and I lived, and my two brothers, who were asleep and dreaming a good dream. I seem to see their smiles in my dream.

A moth flew in from the window and flew to the red candle. If it is not covered with a paper cover, it will die. I'm sorry about that.

Mother drove the moth out of the window and then went on with her unfinished work.

Tonight's moonlight illuminates the darkness tonight. I know my mother is watching me from the sky. It is every child's eternal regret to want to raise children and not to be close to them. Mother's smile, like the moonlight tonight, lit up my gray heart.

Today, ten years later, I look at that night through ten years of candlelight, just like through several layers of ground glass. The candlelight that night, after ten years, shone warmly in my heart, like several layers of glass. By candlelight, my face turned red again. It was candlelight ten years ago. It is swaying, swaying, and constantly emitting charming brilliance in the depths of the years.

You are a lonely flower stand/foggy balcony.

You are a lonely flower stand, I know, that's your habit for many years. Every early spring, build a beautiful flower stand, then plant cucumbers or beans that children like to eat at the foot of the flower stand, and then let the spring breeze blow, blow this lonely flower stand. Lonely flower stand is no longer lonely because of your arrival.

Now, you are full of silver hair, but you still stick to the habit you have developed for many years and build a lonely flower bed in early spring.

The spring breeze seems to blow up the young old swallows and let them soar freely in the blue sky. Spring breeze blows their feathers, so their feathers gradually plump, and they begin to fight in the sky. However, is this fact cruel to Lao Yan? Xin Yan grew up and began to work hard in the sky. There are only two old Yan left in the empty nest, sighing. However, I don't think they regret it, because children have their own ideals and their own sky. They should fly away and find their own future. You are the same, even if it is an empty home, because the children have grown up and become married, which is the best reward for the mother.

For children, you are also an endless spring breeze. With your support, the children grew up and went to work. They are diligent and conscientious, and have made extraordinary achievements in their ordinary posts.

However, in the end, you became a lonely old man. In early spring, just after the Spring Festival, the children left, and you fell into deep loneliness. Accompany you, only the lonely flower stand.

Grandma, now that I've come to see you, I'm flattered to see your silver hair fluttering in the wind and you welcoming me at the village entrance. I didn't know your difficulty at that time. I only know that your children are filial and can give you a generous living allowance, but I have overlooked an important fact, that is, you are a lonely old man with children and grandchildren under your knees. You want the children to stay with you-"The older children hoe the bean stream east, the middle children weave the chicken coop, and the children like hooligans best, and the stream heads lie and peel the lotus." This is the life you want.

But who can give it to you?

There is only a lonely flower stand, which blooms quietly in the spring breeze, stretches its branches and leaves in the summer rain, and bears rich fruits in Qiu Guang-but there is no one to accompany you to pick them.

Grandma, I'm coming. I'm coming. I'll stay a little longer so that you won't be lonely. But after I left? Who will accompany you?

I looked at the flower stand with branches and leaves spreading in the early spring morning breeze and smiled quietly. However, two lines of tears fell unwillingly from the corner of my eye. Quiet, quiet, I know those two lines of tears are for you.

A narrow alley/foggy balcony

That is, something will suddenly break into your heart when you least expect it, which will make you unprepared.

That's the alley in my memory. That's a rainy lane, that's a narrow rainy lane.

There is no plain clothes girl like lilac, only my hometown elders.

In my dreams, I often go back to that alley, where my childhood dreams are recorded. That's where dreams begin. I vaguely remember that at noon on a sunny day, I woke up from my sleep, yawned, then drifted off and smelled a fragrance of flowers.

I don't know who picked the wild flowers nailed to the door in the wild and who nailed them to my door quietly. He (she) not only gave me a bunch of flowers, but also gave me the sweetness in my sleep, the fragrance after waking up, and an excellent mood.

I think before I wake up, he or she has walked out of the alley where I live. That alley is so short, so short, as short as an early morning yearning.

The sunshine in the morning was so naughty that it teased my eyes happily and made me laugh. I feel something whispering in my ear. This is the sound of the morning sun. I felt something kissing my cheek again, and I knew it was sunshine.

What slipped into my face? It's my tears.

Am I touched by the morning light? No, what moved me was the bouquet of flowers and the people who offered them.

I finally know that there are still some people in this world who care about me and my lonely soul. So he sent me a bunch of flowers and his heart at the same time.

This is not just a bunch of flowers, this is a beating heart.

I remember I often walked in that alley, and I knew there was my family there. They are my childhood memories and my attachment when I grow up. Today, I walked in that alley again, but unlike before, this time I returned to the haunted place in my dream.

I vaguely saw my uncle, my aunt, my uncle, my brother, standing or sitting, all fixed in that short alley.

So I went over, and some of them were eating, and nothing changed because of my arrival. Still eating, just looking up at me, I walked over, quietly, quietly.

Time stood still at that moment.

Folks, I think of you again. I saw you in my dream. Of course I know this is just a dream, because I am far from home. Folks, only in my dreams can I see you so close.

I don't know if you will blame me for this, because I just walked by quietly without saying hello to you. I don't think so, because you are my hometown.

Why didn't I get a greeting? Because it was just a dream.

It is raining.

It's a rainy morning. At that time, I was too young. I only remember that it was a rainy morning. I walked in that short rainy lane. I won't meet any girls. The candy in my hand is not finished, but it is getting less and less. I know, just like all those years when I was in this alley. Although sweet, it is getting shorter and shorter.

There is smoke in the rain, and everyone in the chimney is smoking and leaning with the wind.

Love of snakes

I know that snake-that weak life is not rare for me to love it, and I can't tell where I fell in love with it. I know there is no love and hate for no reason, but where did I fall in love with it?

It is raining heavily today. It seems that it hasn't rained like this for a long time. In my childhood memory, rain is always associated with snakes. Every time it rains, snakes appear on the road, beside the pond and under the tree. Every rain will attract countless surprises, and those surprises are brought by snakes. At that time, I didn't like snakes as much as I do now, just like the feeling of rain. A rain blocked adults at home and couldn't leave home, so I had to. I like the feeling that rain is coming, I like the feeling of staying at home doing nothing and being particularly safe, and I prefer the encounter after rain and the encounter with snakes.

When it rains, we will pester adults to tell stories. There is a story that I have never forgotten. It is said that a child killed a snake. The snake happened to be the third prince of the Dragon King, so the Dragon King came to seek revenge. He became an old man and came to the children's house to ask for directions. The child's family knew in advance, so they hid the child in a jar, covered it with a lid and put stones on it. The old man in the incarnation of the Dragon King came around the jar.

Adults tell this story to educate us not to kill easily, we will be punished, and snakes must not be killed.

But once a snake crawled into my swallow nest, and grandma chopped the snake into 10 thousand pieces. Those days were the most taboo days of the year to kill snakes.

After the rain, when walking on the road, there is often a snake crawling across the road in panic. It was as fast as lightning, incredible, got into the grass by the road and disappeared.

There is a saying that "the dragon is strong and does not oppress the local strongmen", which is somewhat reasonable. Whoever owns the territory is the boss, and so is the snake. I've seen snakes eat. When it caught the frog, the frog didn't move, as if it were scared.

It is not surprising that there are two-headed snakes and conjoined snakes in the world. The existence of snakes is a miracle. No creature lives so hard, so careful and so dark. They live in darkness, but yearn for light. This is the courage that life should have.

I remember in winter, when the water didn't freeze, I saw a snake with a thick thumb and more than a foot long. It swam all the way along the unfrozen water and stopped when it reached my side. There was a snake in winter. I was surprised, so I tied a red rope to it. Then spring came and I saw it again. It was coiled in a tree hole and fell asleep peacefully.

I miss its sleeping position very much, so unguarded, it is the most beautiful sleeping position I have ever seen. I don't know if it is alive and well later, whether it has shed that layer of skin and rope, and if it has, what a wonderful thing it would be! If you see a snake slough, don't be surprised by the red rope on it. I tied it with love. May it keep the snake safe from generation to generation.

I seldom see snakes when I grow up, but I have an unforgettable memory of snakes in my bones. I miss the ugliness of snakes and everything about them.

Only then did I understand that love needs no reason, just as a mother loves us and we love our children. The snake, a wet and unlovable little animal, attracted me deeply. I love it, probably because I have a snake in my bones, and because it appeared too many times in my not-so-beautiful childhood. It used its snake to shed its skin and told me that all terrible things are just a fake paper, which will break when poked.

The sunshine in childhood is not brilliant, but it has grown up. I saw several snakes molting in the grass in the sun and swaying gently with the wind. I stepped forward and twisted a snake slough. Transparent cutin seems to shine with the light of Yin Hui in the sun. It was once put on a snake, which gave it a little sense of security. When the snake wants to shed this skin, it is very decisive and patient.

This is the truth that snakes taught me, the truth of being a man and even doing things.