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I always dislike the cold silence in the morning and the heat at noon. I always want to travel through a period of time and space and sit quietly in the radiant dusk.

Perhaps the most beautiful is the shortest, dusk always leaves in a hurry unconsciously, leaving the long darkness to the meditator; However, this intersection of light and darkness-dusk, silently washes people's dry hearts, caresses the dust from the bottom of their hearts and gives it spirituality again.

Aren't you touched when the soft sunset stretches the shadows of trees, when the calm water is shining with silver, and when the vast sky is covered with a rose coat? Dusk always comes at this time, and I can always think of a lot. In this thought-provoking dusk, the dark red sky, the round sunset glow, the silent vilen and the passing light meet in an instant, forming a song with Kubinashi rhyme and a long thought with mixed feelings. ...

The fragrance wafts, and the moon is white and the wind is clear. The sky opened against a blue-gray background, and the sunset disappeared in the distant mountains. There must be something to decorate this silent evening! So in the sunset, a thin horse carries a heartbroken man around the world, blending the faint sadness into this dusk; On the side of the ancient road, a pipa played an unforgettable time, mixed with deep memories in this dusk. At dusk, it is full of affection, but it disappears day by day. It's weather-beaten, but calm. She saw too many busy people and heard too many helpless cries, but she always showed her tolerance and gentleness calmly.

Walking on the path at dusk, put aside the tension and boredom of the whole day, let go of your thoughts and pursue your dreams.

I always want to go to the desert in my dream alone and see the strange colors of the desert sunset and the golden world; I always want to ride the wind on the endless prairie and listen to people picking up guitars and singing in the sunset. I think the soft sunset is not only a desert, a grassland, but also many sleeping dreams.

At night, people are fascinated by music. Because only this moment of peace can carry the freedom of music. Dusk and singing merge, beauty and ugliness meet, and silence and sadness complement each other.

Look at dusk and meditate at the junction of light and darkness. ...

Chapter 2: Observing at Crossroads

I haven't seen grandpa and them for over a month. I stood on the balcony, watching the raindrops falling in the sky outside, one by one, and I felt a little lost. I think of my grandfather's two-story building, the fragrant osmanthus tree in front of the house, a well that has existed for many years in the spacious and tidy yard, the busy figure of my grandmother in the colorful vegetable field behind the house, and the little fat rabbit that belongs to me ... My nose is a little sour when I think about this.

"Rinrin Bell ..." The ringing of the telephone interrupted my thoughts. I walked quickly to the front of the telephone and picked up the receiver. "Miss your grandpa? My good grandson, grandpa bought you a big watermelon today. Do you want to come to dinner today? I am soaking watermelon in the well now! " Grandpa's familiar and excited voice on the phone reminded me of grandpa's house. Every summer vacation, grandpa will buy a watermelon for my brother and me every day. Every time you take a watermelon home, don't cut it in a hurry, but take a big pot, put it in, and then hang a big bucket of well water on it to completely drown the watermelon. After a while, cut it When you eat it, it will be cold, cool and sweet. It's really refreshing. I don't know how many times it tastes better than putting it in the refrigerator. "Well, Grandpa, my parents and I are going out for dinner tonight, so we won't go!" "Oh, really? Good ... hey! " "Du-"As the phone hung up, I seemed to see Grandpa's disappointed expression, then sighed deeply and turned away.

After dinner, it is close to eight o'clock. Dad called grandpa and said he would go to see them. At this time, it was completely dark. I sat in the car and watched the rows of lights running away behind me. After a while, the car stopped. I got off the bus and saw a man standing at the intersection not far away. I can't see the man clearly in the dim light, only his back is slightly bent. I walked quickly forward, and the person in front of me became clear. The man's hair under the street lamp is all white, with two or three deep wrinkles on his forehead and traces of years on his face. Ah, isn't this my grandfather? I don't know how long he has been waiting at this intersection. He stood there quietly, the wrinkles on his forehead gradually dispersed because of our appearance, and his mouth rose slightly. He stood at the intersection and watched us come back.

That night, we were all happy. For our relatives, I don't think we should keep them waiting. We should often go home to see them, so as not to make them feel lonely and sad. People's life, some people are watching, some people are gathering. Many people left in the watch, and some people insisted. All we have to do is not to break their hearts and keep them waiting for too long. ...

Chapter III: Watch of Wooden Chairs

That rainy afternoon, I sat on that wooden chair again. Intermittent moisture mixed with the earthy smell of the field blocked my heart, and I only heard the rain slapping the tiles.

The old wooden chair has been in the rain for some time, so I moved it in and let it watch the rain for a while. The rain became heavy and noisy.

When the wooden chair is completely dry, I will sit on it, feel the wooden chair that sucks dew from the ground, look at the empty backyard, and then look at the empty fields. A mist floated before my eyes. Grandpa said that he enjoyed this kind of weather best, which was boring. Here he comes.

I asked him to touch my head and stir up my bangs. I just looked at him blankly. Ah, grandpa, did you come back to see me? Then why did you leave your family with such a gloomy voice? I got up and sat him in the old wooden chair. He smiled and kept rubbing against the wooden chair to signal me to sit down. A warm current trickled down from the corner of my eye, and I remembered the past again.

He is still sitting in that chair, but I am in his arms. I don't know how many seasons I slept in his arms, nor how many seasons he sat on that wooden chair, but since his death, only the old wooden chair and I have been watching him. Whenever he "comes back", the wooden chair and I will laugh. I don't laugh like an old wooden chair. Its mouth laughs big, like an ugly scar. The whole thing is still shaking, like crying and laughing, but when the fog disappears, he will leave. I continued to sit on the wooden chair and looked at his swaying back, which made me feel so lonely and sad.

Leaving home, only wooden chairs are waiting for him to come back. Probably still dreaming many years ago, staying with grandpa. He may look forward to my grandfather from the past, thus becoming looking forward to me and my grandfather; He may have stopped laughing because he doesn't know how to laugh ... I've been looking forward to it. Next time it rains, grandpa, I'll go back with you to see that old wooden chair, okay? Visit the old wooden chair that has been watching, watching and watching. ...

Chapter four: Two generations' watch.

You don't have to choose a time, not necessarily at night, not necessarily with light rain ... Walking after dinner always reminds me of the past and the beautiful watch when I was a child.

Childhood is a gravel road drifting away, carrying too many watches and memories.

Walking on the cobblestone road with grandma. The afternoon sunshine is warm, shining in the happy fish pond, sparkling, as if full of affection. I playfully picked up a pebble and naively asked my grandmother, "When can I grow up?" Grandma thought about it, smiled and pointed to the stone and said, "When this stone blooms, you will grow up." My heart is full of flowers, and I hold pebbles like pearls and agates in my hand. Watering, fertilizing, sunbathing ... every day's careful care is still the same, and I have left many tears because of its indifference. Now I know that in grandma's eyes, I will always be a child. She wants me to stay with her forever, just like this pebble, and take care of me with her love when I grow up.

I stood on this cobblestone road, struggling forward, and suddenly looking back, I couldn't see the beginning or the end. ...

Childhood is a paper plane parked on the eaves, full of my yearning for the future.

On a rainy afternoon, misty water vapor was floating in the air. Grandma and I were folding paper planes in the yard, and a breeze blew. I quickly let go of my hands and let the paper plane fly in the air. After the western line drew a beautiful arc, it landed on the eaves of the neighbors. I cheered, clapped my hands and shouted, "I want to fly in the sky in the future!" " Grandma touched my head with a smile and said with attachment, "What shall I do if you leave?" Suddenly, my heart thumped. Now that paper plane may still be parked on the eaves, but your granddaughter left her hometown for her ideal and started her own flight in Zhangjiagang, flying my dream and working hard for her childhood watch.

The sails of the years are drifting away. The watches of two generations parted at a certain intersection. A yearning for a higher sky, let her fly; One hope now is to let them live happily. Maybe nothing, just watching the time immersed in love …

Chapter 5: Field observation

Unconsciously, it is already late autumn. In the field, only a few thick and lesbian rice stalks stand there, telling the story of late autumn. Dark brown soil mixed with one or two leftover ears of rice has lost the innocent and poetic feeling that the field should have. What is missing is the watchful figure on the ridge.

Grandma is a typical Jiangnan woman. She likes to wear a small shirt with a blue and white background and a pair of blue shoes. There is a gentle and virtuous feeling between gestures. Every spring, a white orchid will always be pinned to her temples, with a long fragrance.

I spent my childhood in the countryside. I don't know why, the fields always have a strong attraction to me. I go there all day. Grandma always watches by the ridge of the field. When it's time for dinner, she will call me to dinner in Wu Nong's soft language with a hint of drama. The rolling rice waves, the blue figure on the edge of the field and the timbre of the opera constitute the most beautiful picture of childhood.

In early autumn, the blue rice has grown to the height of my childhood, slightly golden. I like to hide in the rice fields and play hide-and-seek with my grandma. Naughty wind blows and falls the rice together, like a wave of rice rolling, like being washed away in the distance. The nose is full of the smell of rice, mixed with a hint of osmanthus. Grandma's voice came from my ear. I secretly opened the rice bushes in front of me, only to see the blue figure on the ridge looking in all directions, holding my favorite cake in my hand and calling me in my mouth. I couldn't restrain my greed, and slowly escaped into the rice bushes and climbed to my grandmother. Suddenly, a shadow fell on the ground in front of me. I looked up with difficulty and saw my grandmother in blue shoes and a blue shirt smiling at me. I also smiled and shouted, "Grandma, give me some cake!" " "Grandma laughed more, canthus brow wrinkles also reduced a few. Her hair at the temples was blown by the wind and glistened in the sun. The figures of an old man and a young man slowly disappeared at the end of the ridge.

Time slipped through my fingers. I am no longer a little girl in the field, and my grandmother is no longer an old lady guarding the field. According to neighbors, grandma often stands on the edge of the ridge in front of the door, watching blankly and expecting my sudden appearance. Autumn rain began to fall quietly, and I stood on the ridge, expecting a blue and white shirt. Tick-tock, a drop of water falls on the ear of wheat in your hand. It is not clear whether it is rain or tears …

Chapter 6: Field observation

The cool breeze blows gently, and the red bean vines make waves and wander in the fields. I quietly looked at the fields with red beans. ...

It happened to be a school holiday at that time, and my parents took me to my grandmother's house. It was autumn, the red beans in the field were ripe and the red bean vines turned yellow. Happily, there are still some green playfully jumping, which adds a little vitality to this soybean vine.

Grandma was bending down to pick red pods at this time, and the autumn wind blew in waves, messing up grandma's silver-gray hair and overflowing my heart. Grandma is getting thinner and thinner by relying on red bean vines. I crouched down and stayed quietly beside my grandmother. I took a casual look at her, only to find that her hands were so rough that they cracked in several places, revealing the traces of years of work. I can't help but be sour and respect her more.

At that time, I was young and didn't know much about the world, but I also understood my grandmother's hardships. I looked at my grandmother's hard back, and my heart suddenly became sour, thinking about doing something for her. I looked around and there were so many red beans to pick! I decided to help grandma pick it out together.

I ran to one side and began to pick red pods, only bowing my head to pick them, unaware that I was getting farther and farther. I didn't straighten up until I was tired of picking. Looking around, I found that there was no one around, only the rustling of beans and vines from the wind. Suddenly, a kind of fear came to my mind, and a few tears could not help but flow down, but I immediately wiped away the dripping tears, adjusted my mood and waited for grandma's arrival.

It's already evening, and the sun is setting. The afterglow of the sun has dyed the clouds on the distant horizon red, reflecting the red sky in the west. I stood there motionless, silently hoping that grandma would find me soon. The autumn wind blows mercilessly in this field, and I can't help shivering with the wind, but I watch helplessly in the field.

Suddenly, my grandmother finally appeared in my sight. I yelled at her with joy. When grandma saw me, she stumbled up to me and looked at her anxious expression. I ran to her, too After meeting, I saw a relieved expression on grandma's face. Grandma didn't blame me too much. She took my hand and walked home. The warm hand melted my cold hand, leaving only a swaying red bean vine in the field.

Now, when I go to my grandmother's house, I always walk on a field full of red beans and vines, feel the Han Xiao of autumn wind and the joy of maturity, and look at this field. I seem to see grandma's hard work again. ...

Chapter 7: Observation Site

Every inch of land in my hometown is golden, which is the home watered by our ancestors with blood and sweat. Birds look at the blue sky, fish walk in the sea … I love the fields in my hometown as much as they do. Where I grew up, I want to sing for her, and I want to contribute my life's wisdom to her, so that she will always exude charming charm and become people's eternal yearning.

Look, this is a field in the country. Not to mention the emerald green and purples of the old willow trees, just a few vicissitudes of old houses under the shade of a beach will give you a feeling of "Xanadu" or a freshness of "ancient times". This seclusion of thousands of miles and the emptiness of the sky will not make you feel the feeling and joy of returning to nature.

Then, please stand on high, regard it as your oil painting and appreciate it carefully.

Looking from afar, under the sky as blue as green glass, several exquisite hills do not give people a three-dimensional sense, just like a jade screen, and the Woods below are as dense as flowing liquid, which will drown your reverie.

The middle scene is a green field, and the scattered villages are like green islands in the sea. This kind of open scene will make you unconsciously spit out the pent-up pent-up gas in a deep breath and feel really relaxed and happy.

In front of us is a green wheat field. Fields and paths are like jade belts, dotted with colorful wild flowers such as silver agate and emerald. Let's set foot on them and visit the people in the painting.

The river flows around like a naughty girl, luring you into the peach grove and hiding in the orchard. After a while, the river smiled shyly.

There are many wild flowers here, the white ones give people the purity and tranquility of the snowfield, and the yellow ones are like scattered gold powder. Looking at colorful wildflowers, you will become a poet, but you can't write poetry. At that time, you will become a playful child. Many flowers are scrambling to show sweet smiles, show the most beautiful charm and spit out the most mellow fragrance. By the canal, on the winding path, by the river. Angel-like, girlish, bright-eyed and star-like. Stars and patches. Dots are like pearls and jade, and chess pieces are like gems, white, yellow, blue and red. White as snow as jade, yellow as honey as gold, blue as smoke as jade, red as fire as chardonnay. There are umbrella-shaped, dish-shaped, spherical, spike-shaped, petal-shaped and chain-shaped. Flowers have their own shape, appearance and color, such as fairy, elegant; Such as good family, dignified and refined; Such as small jasper, delicate and pretty. Tingting, Jiao Jiao, Yan Yan, if Flash, if wearing light makeup, if taking a shower. Breeze Xu Lai, some bobbing their heads, some lowering their eyebrows, some smiling, some charming and romantic ... lying beside them, enjoying their dance, their beauty and their fragrance. The fragrance of flowers is different, whether it is as strong as wine, as light as silk smoke, or as clear as dew and as sweet as honey, it will make you addicted and intoxicated. Here, you laugh and scream. You can also cry, sing, dance and roll as much as you want, and you will be completely relaxed. This is your kingdom, your world, your world.

The more vigorous the eagle is, the more yearning it is for the sky, and the more handsome the horse is, the more yearning it is for the wind. There are no wanderers who don't miss their homeland, and there are no gardeners who don't love flowers. You have come all the way from Three Emperors and Five Emperors and Shun Di, Tang Yao. You have the greatness of the Han Dynasty, the glory of the Tang Dynasty, the ferocity of the Song and Yuan Dynasties, and the calmness of the Ming and Qing Dynasties, but you have never been so peaceful as today. The horn of the new era has sounded. Let's * * * keep our original heart and forge ahead.