2019 Daily Reading April and May

4.1 Monday Daily Reading 639: A stream flows out from the emerald mountain peaks, the water is as clear as glass. When the stream reached the north of the village, it was suddenly cut into two sections, with a jade-like dam embedded in the middle. Families in the village gather together downstream of the dam. During the day, some people go upstream into the mountains to cultivate crops, and some make a living by fishing. At night, lights lit up along the gurgling stream. Such a peaceful and dependent scene will always be replaced by another bustling scene every summer. This is because when the dam no longer flows into the stream like a white waterfall in winter, the stream becomes shallower and becomes as blue as the sky, and fish and shrimps can be seen swimming in the water. The children who were usually told not to go near the water, now with the guidance of adults, have already rolled up their sleeves and trousers, vying to be the vanguard, ready to go out!

4.2 Daily Reading 640: We raised the small net in our hands high and swayed it into a military flag fluttering in the wind; we carried the small plastic bucket, ready to load back the full military rations; The slippers clattered on the road, making a sound like horse hooves, and they rushed all the way to the creek that had not been seen for a long winter. The golden summer wind also crossed the stream to join in the fun, bringing with it the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the water drops, blowing the long green hair of several willow trees not far from the dam to sparkling flying. When the wind stopped, the willow branches hung down into the stream and became fishing lines, catching a few fallen flowers. A few fishermen stood quietly on this side of the stream, waiting for the fish that were coaxed by the noisy people on the other side of the stream to take the bait automatically. I heard that the harvest is more abundant than usual. When we passed by, we took a closer look at the fish in their bucket. Sure enough, they were all fat and big! hurry up! hurry up! Go faster! A few clouds floated out of the quiet valley at my urging, competing to see who could reach the other side of the stream first.

4.3 Daily Reading 641: The spring rain fell continuously for several days, quietly wetting the mud on the ground, the grass on the mud, and the trees beside the grass. , stained the mountain behind the trees. The mountains become farther away, the trees become taller, the grass becomes greener, and the mud becomes more fertile. As soon as the rain stopped, the rainbow stretched out its crooked hands from behind the mountain to say hello to the sun; the birds stood on the branches and pecked their feathers and puffed their wings, preparing to go on the road again; the little grasshoppers jumped out of the grass with a string hanging on their legs. Shining raindrops; and a group of small bamboo shoots competing to see who can dig out of the thick soil first and be the first to see the beautiful spring god dancing in the bamboo forest. When the little bamboo shoots worked hard to drill, squeeze, twist and crawl, and finally exposed the pointed top of their hats, at the far end of the road, a goddess of spring indeed appeared.

4.4 Daily Reading 642: She wears the same pointed hat, which makes the little bamboo shoots feel so friendly; a skirt hangs from her waist, and it sways left and right when walking, making the little bamboo shoots feel so familiar. She was dumbfounded and stood motionless in the mud; behind her, followed a little flower girl, the flower fairy who was responsible for delivering spring news. The little bamboo shoots secretly hoped to be with her. , participate in this feast. The God of Spring got closer and closer, walked closer and closer, walked into the bamboo forest, and turned into a grandma. The pointed hat turned out to be a bamboo hat, and the fluttering skirt turned out to be the sack shaking in the hand. Grandma walked into the bamboo forest to pick spring bamboo shoots. I followed her quietly and walked into another stage in spring.

4.8 Daily Reading 643: Tall bamboos with green waist poles stand in groups of six or seven on small mounds, like small team members preparing to compete in groups, gathering Discuss the show together. As soon as Feng'er entered the stage, the bamboo leaves burst into warm applause of "Pah! Pah! Pah!", applauding to welcome the song of bamboo sheng played by Feng'er and the high and low bamboo pipes. The little sparrow heard it and flew into the bamboo forest, turning into the conductor's hands with its dexterous flight to guide the concert. I chased the wonderful music, just like Kua Fu chased the sun, running around in the forest, making a rustling sound on the dead leaves that had fallen in winter. Some of them turned into yellow butterflies, flew up in circles and closed their wings to rest.

4.9 Daily Reading 644: Grandma raised her head and glanced at me from under the brim of her hat. After making sure that I was still within her sight, she continued her work. I just murmured something like spider silk: "Be careful with the green bamboo silk!" The breeze blew the words into my ears, and my hands and feet were immediately wrapped up in spider silk and could not move. Then I raised my headband and looked at the green bamboo forest. The bamboo leaves were also green, and the bamboo poles were also green. The more I looked at it, the more it looked like there were green bamboo strands lying down and curled up! I obediently returned to my grandma and squatted aside to watch her pick bamboo shoots. The pointed and thin bamboo shoots pierce through the soil, like standing swords in the stone. Grandma folded it skillfully with her fingers, making a crisp sound, and she held a bamboo sword in her hand.

4.10 Daily Reading 645: I opened the sack and looked inside. In addition to King Arthur’s sword, there were also various types of long scabbards and short handles. In this bleak forest, I became a martial arts practitioner living alone in the mountains again, wielding the Blue Dragon Double Sword to decide the outcome with the Sunlight Shadowless Sword. The slanting shadow of the sun jumped from the bamboo leaf and jumped onto Grandma's bamboo hat. I hesitated to pursue, but when I saw my grandma peeling off the bamboo shoots, she easily wrapped them around her fingers, and the bamboo shoot sword made of hundreds of steel was wrapped around her fingers softly. The skill of this move is unfathomable, so I'd better squat next to her again and humbly seek help from her teacher.

4.11 Daily Reading 646: Summer is a very green and restless season.

Those young buds and leaves that were reborn in spring suddenly no longer "tender" when summer comes, but become "green" and become a real "green" leaf. These green leaves create a lush green tree; each lush green tree creates a lush green mountain; this lush green mountain reflects into a green lake. In this way, Xia Tian was captured inch by inch by the Green Legion. And the hissing cicadas that were heard all day long were the loud bugle music that played for this victorious battle. I still remember very clearly how it was captured on the first day of summer. That morning was like any other morning. I pressed my face against the green screen window, not realizing that the green outside the window had already been arranged and was waiting to move in the wind. Moreover, there is a cicada lurking under every leaf. At night, the green in the house begins to change inside and outside.

Daily Reading 647: I like to stand in the yard and watch the sky slowly darken from behind the mountain at dusk. It's like dabbing a few strokes of ink on a piece of painting paper that has been swept by water, and watching the thick black spread, haloing, and soaking into a deep dark night. After a while, the lights were lit one by one, and beams of warm light were projected from the transparent windows and open doors. Like passing a sacred fire, every home at the foot of the mountain began to welcome the night. In this way, day after day, the night illuminated by lights came and went, and came and went without attracting special attention. Until one day, people in the village told each other that there would be a power outage tonight, and the night seemed to be very different.

4.15. Monday. Daily Calf Reading 648: When the raindrops float softly and thinly, it is like someone standing on the top of the mountain and scattering handfuls of new-born goose feathers. When they fall on the body, they first feel a slight itch, and then turn into a refreshing coolness. I raised my face and let the rain moisten my cheeks, and let my heart, fermented by the afternoon spring sun, be like a quiet plum, frozen in the rain. I slowed down my pace, and with my heels as the center and my body as the radius, I drew a semicircle with my eyes and looked around at the scenery in the mountain. Maybe it’s because the mountain is high, humid and cold, and the slimy mountain wall is like an arc-shaped pen holder. It is covered with ferns with beautiful leaves and fat stems. They are moistened with rain and ink, writing about their abundant vitality; there are also a few ferns. The golden fern grows out of the deep valley. Among the green leaves, the curly young leaves covered with fine golden hairs stand out, like crutches trying to lift up the sky.

Daily Reading 649: The rain in February and the rain in March caused white fungi to grow on the corners of my house, my suitcases became moldy, water accumulated on the ceiling, and the floor was covered with a layer of visitors’ friendship. mud footprints. There are several temporary ponds on Section 2 of Heping West Road. Cars drive past them with a rustling splashing sound. The wet clothes looked like rows of old people standing with their hands hanging down, taking refuge under the eaves. The tap water is flowing smoothly because God has given us too much water. Wet passers-by, like fish, swam past the fence solemnly and silently. This is the rainy season in Taipei, the day most lacking in laughter in the year, but our children were born on such a day. She had spent fifteen full days on this damp earth. Her small black eyes had never seen the bright sun or the bright moon. Will she feel that the world is not beautiful?

Daily Reading 650: Xia Ye is a magician who comes to the village to perform every summer night wearing a black cloak studded with stars and sequins. As soon as it appears, the scalding fireball on the horizon disappears, and a silver plate shimmers with cold light emerges. Then he randomly caught a floating cloud handkerchief in the air, wiped the silver plate clean, and cast a shining light and shadow. When it shines on the pond, frogs poke their heads out to look in the mirror; when it shines on the treetops, owls purr; when it shines on the ground, people open their clear and crystal eyes wide and look forward to what will happen today. What novel tricks is Wan going to play for us? A street lamp slowly lit up the stage in Miaocheng. Termites and moths entered the scene waving their light wings and danced a "dance of light" around the light source. They circled around and around until they collapsed from exhaustion, exhausted their strength, and fell to the ground.

Daily Reading 651: Under the silvery moonlight, a group of children and I played stepping on shadows. We chase each other’s shadows and are chased by our own shadows. These shadows suddenly get bigger, sometimes get smaller, sometimes get fatter, sometimes get thinner, sometimes on the left, sometimes on the right, sometimes climb up the wall, sometimes fall into the ditch, all of them look like A loyal old black dog followed closely behind us and could not be driven away no matter what. I hid in the flowers, wanting to hide my shadow in the shadow of the flowers and rest for a while. Take a sneak peek - the epiphyllum hasn't bloomed yet! Let's play again. What are you going to play this time? In the dark haystack, there are flickering lights, which are fireflies patrolling with lanterns. I blinked my bright eyes and caught the flickering lights; the lights illuminated the grass; the grass swayed in the cool breeze; the wind blew away the fireflies; the fireflies scattered everywhere, like The bursting moonlight shines in my eyes.

Daily Reading 652: I have a dream, and that is to look forward to tulips growing buds as soon as possible. If there really is such a day, I will let the moved tears flow into the pink flowers like a goblet, and then slowly sip the face and breath of spring filled in this flower goblet. I've been waiting for this day like crazy. When the butterflies arrived, they circled around the vegetable garden behind the house, flying and fluttering on the green leaves, causing the loofah shed to burst into ripples of water, blooming yellow butterfly flowers, and attracting yellow flowers. butterfly.

My pink tulips are still tightly capped, as if they don’t want to celebrate this bright yellow and lively spring at all. I just had to keep waiting. When the butterflies fly away, the yellow flowers fade, and the little loofahs hang from the melon shed, spring has gone. The flower wine cup that I wanted to use to hold my spring wishes was broken. My disappointed tears fell on the leaves that had withered and turned yellow before the pink buds grew.

Daily Reading 653: As soon as the sky cleared, we walked up step by step on the soft mud soaked by the rain last night. The weeds on the roadside brought out green plates, containing crystal rolling dewdrops. They danced a welcome dance in the wind and passionately kissed our footsteps as we passed by. A few dewdrops climbed onto the swinging trouser legs, hoping to go up the mountain with us. As the yellow mud on the soles of your feet gets higher and higher, the smell of citrus in the air becomes stronger and stronger. We moved forward in search of the fragrant fruity fragrance, letting the mountain streams gurgling and the mountain wind blow slowly, the mountains and forests swaying, and the scent of orange sweet perfume filled our bodies.

Daily Reading 654: When we look up, the trees full of oranges are waving to us! The oranges in the garden are shaking their heads at us! The mountains full of oranges are saying hello to us! "Come and pick me! Come and pick me!" They couldn't wait to twist their waists on the branches, shaking their round bellies, and said with red faces. I heard it very clearly, because I was standing under an orange tree, and the dewdrops that were shaken off the tree dripped onto my face, and when I licked it, it was sweet and ripe. After grandma distributed the cloth bags and bamboo baskets to the uncles, everyone walked to the shade of the trees in different corners with tacit understanding, put on white work gloves, picked up small scissors, and started picking yellow oranges!

Daily Reading 655: I also chose an orange tree that is neither high nor short. It bears neither too much nor too little fruit, which is just right for me to eat and pick. So, let’s try one to quench your thirst first. I picked it off casually and peeled off pieces of golden orange clothing. The plump pulp exuded fragrant juice, which dyed my hands sweetly. I broke open the orange in my fist and sucked my fingers soaked in the fruit juice. The orange petals seemed to open my fingers and wanted to shake my hand, but my hand turned into orange petals in my mouth! While eating the one in my hand, I stared at the roundest and brightest one still hanging on the treetop in the distance, like the sun rising over the top of the mountain, glowing with golden light.

Daily Reading 656: Look carefully, these big orange lanterns and small orange lanterns hanging high on the branches each have a different brilliance, as if they are celebrating the Lantern Festival in advance. Some are like lit red candles, some are like swaying dim yellow wax torches, some are like layers of glazed green tissue paper, but there is a faint orange light, and some are carved with various brown patterns and images. Large and small round oranges are showing their most dazzling beauty at this moment, hoping to be picked by me. The little orange that is too green, please wait a little longer until you grow up and become fuller and fuller, okay? Old oranges that are unable to climb branches, please fall to the ground and use your fermented wine-flavored flesh to intoxicate the earth with fertility, so that more lush orange trees can be brewed, okay?

Monday Daily Reading 657: Other oranges, are you ready? All the oranges nodded and shouted in the wind: "Choose me! Choose me!" Even the one in my pocket moved stupidly, reminding me not to forget it. Why does every orange want to attract attention? Because they know that every year at this time, grandma will come to the orange grove and pick out the biggest and sweetest ones. During the Chinese New Year, she will put them on the desk to worship the ancestors. This is the grand celebration that the oranges in the orange grove most want to participate in!

Daily Reading 658: As soon as it gets dark, the earth begins to sparkle. As night falls, every corner of the city lights up. In the building that looks majestic and indifferent during the day, every window becomes sparkling, like transparent and shining crystal mountains. It seems that all the stories happening in these mountains can be seen clearly from a distance. In the daytime, these buildings are unfamiliar. The street lights above the street came on at the same moment. These street lights are much brighter than the stars and the moon in the sky. They overlook the twists and turns of the road under the night, illuminating the people and cars on the road. The car lights on the street are flowing light, yellow lights, white lights, red lights, pulling out strings of light and shadow like pearls and gems on the road...

Daily Reading 659 : If there is snow in the world that will not melt and there are small clouds on the ground, it must be catkins and poplar catkins. They roam in mid-air, erratic, sometimes hugging together, sometimes spreading apart. They only need the lightest wind to embark on a fantastic journey. There are skills to catching them: if you reach out impatiently to catch them, the rising wind will push them away; if you spread your palms and wait quietly, they will fall down on their own tentatively and carefully. There are many willows and poplars on campus. When the temperature rises at noon, these small snowflakes and clouds will become lively and playfully get into people's eyes, noses and mouths. Other students have always hated the white fur all over the sky and put on masks and hats whenever they go out. But I like to walk in it and enjoy the illusion of snow falling in April.

Daily Dudu 660: I have always had a deep affection for the folk tiles in the countryside. In the rainy Jiangnan, deep alleys or long gravel roads, there are always these honest and simple white walls. Daiwa is waiting silently. From the gentle low eaves, to the stacked roof ridges, to the raised eaves corners, and the exquisite high-pitched eaves teeth, they are all so fascinating.

Walking among such tile-roofed houses, people will become quiet. The unique oriental charm is quietly released in them, making people feel moved by the wisdom of their ancestors! When spring comes, I like the adobe houses where swallows settle down the most. "When the swallows fly, green water surrounds them." No matter which adobe house with yellow walls and black tiles, it embodies the hard work of several generations, the swallows are their of witnesses.

Daily Reading 661: Green bricks and black tiles are the habitat of swallows. The arrival of swallows also adds invisible comfort and excitement to the farmhouse. Every morning, it wakes you up in front of the lattice wooden window. The children stretch themselves and get ready for school in the whisper of swallows. The vegetables grown in the small yard are already lush and green, and the puppy named Xiao Hei is naughty. The rooster was chasing after the rooster in front and behind the tiled house. The rooster was so angry that he threw away his armor and fled in all directions. All kinds of crops that he made that needed to be dried had already been dried on the tiled house. The old grandmother was wearing a white cotton gown. The long little feet are particularly conspicuous in the small courtyard. The hard-working housewife is busy in front of the stove early in the day. The smoke rises from the chimney, and the smoke of the human world is warm and appropriate. "Warm and distant village, Yiyi The artistic conception of "Smoke in the Ruins" is nothing better than this. At this time, the tiles on the roof are as simple as the kind face of an old man. In addition to their inherent strength, they are also somewhat tender. They guard each family. Under each tile, it is the peaceful years that the farmers lived.

May 8th. Daily Calf Reading 663: At night, I would hide in bed and listen quietly to the sound of raindrops dripping along the eaves outside. It was clear and mellow, and I could tell the intensity of the rain. If new tiles were replaced in the spring, , when I encounter flowers blooming at night, I wake up from a dream the next day. The fallen flowers are covered with green tiles, and the raindrops fall on the green tiles. I can often hear a clear bell-like knocking sound. The sound of the wind chimes is the most pleasant in the world. The sound of the bells drifts into the dreamland, and the poem "A spring dream often rains and the tiles float" also sneaks into the dream. From then on, I have awe of the tiles. It is more like a book. The opened poetry book is poetic and picturesque but silently tells the past years of the folk!

Daily Reading 664: In autumn, the wind and the tiles become a pair of lovers. They always have endless things to say, and they seem to have made an appointment without letting anyone hear them. ;They usually whisper softly. In the early morning, they were chatting about how many more dates the jujube tree next door had grown; at noon, Wa would tell the wind how the small branches and fallen leaves that fell on her body had bullied it; at night, the wind was usually there. Whispering and talking, it is like a man who is away from home all year round. When he comes back, he brings some fresh stories to coax Wa into submission; and Wa is the little daughter-in-law who stays at home all day long, hoping that When the wind comes back, there are those who lower their eyebrows and their heads, just so that the wind can protect them for a while. There will also be a few tiles that elope with the wind, those who are in a panic, those who accidentally fall to the ground and fall to the ground. The broken tiles sank into the soil, sleeping under the eaves all year round, carrying a little secret that only it knew.

Daily Reading 665: I have always felt that under every green tile, there is a seed of nostalgia sleeping. One day, they will wake up in the wind and listen to the music in the wind. story. I also know that on every urban street, there are children from folk tiles. One day, they will miss the days of listening to the wind and sitting quietly under the tiles. Every winter, there are bricklayers laying tiles during the off-farm season. They usually choose to use a pole to put new tiles one by one on the beams on a clear and clear day, and replace the old tiles. Just to let the tiles come and go clean. The tiles at this time are humane, quiet and well-behaved, lying one by one on the roof, just like the posture of farmers lying down and resting in the fields during the autumn harvest; this scene is like the art of dominoes, and I often I was fascinated by the past.

Monday, 5.13. Daily Reading 666: The renovated tile-roofed houses are like the wings of a bird, tightly interlocked, united in the countryside where the smoke slowly rises, feeling each other's body temperature, like skin-to-skin lovers, close to each other and airtight. , shelter us from wind and rain, and give us peace of mind and warmth. Such a beautiful village often has admirers like Snowflake, who come quietly at night. The snow in the sky must have come in response to a thousand years of waiting on the ground! Snowflakes fall down one after another, beautiful and peaceful. When the snowflakes fall on the green tiles, the moonlight is as cold as water, and the tiles are the same color as the mud; "A few snowflakes become sunny again, and the clear frost on the tiles accompanies the moonlight." The scene is truly reproduced before your eyes. The snow is capped, the green tiles are heavy, and all the folk stories you can think of are circulating among the white tiles. The warmest hometown in your dream is probably hidden in these beautiful tiles!

Daily Reading 667: Spring came very early this year, and the sunlight cast shadows from the trees. After reading a book, I suddenly decided to raise a cherry tree. I went to the flower market with my classmates and each bought a sapling. I ran home excitedly, dug soil from downstairs, put it into a big "flower jar", planted the saplings in it, and trampled the soil firmly. Facing the wind, I silently prayed that it would grow up quickly. Every weekend, I move the tree downstairs to let it bask in the sun and water it. Pick up the watering can and spray a colorful bridge into the air. The gorgeous mist will fall gently and cover my tree. The round water drops rolled on the tender green leaves, reflecting the sun's rays, which made me unable to open my eyes. It was so bright and brilliant.

Daily Calf Reading 668: The tree grows very fast, from a "bachelor" when it was first bought to a graceful and graceful girl. I stared at it, and it stared back at me, with a low eyebrow and a smile. The breeze blew by, blowing away my hair and also blowing its swaying figure. We just looked at each other silently. Later, in early autumn, as long as it was a sunny day, I would sit under the tree and read "A Blossoming Tree". It quietly cast the shadows of leaves on the page, exactly where I was reading. Looking up, I will see its smile, gentle and graceful, looking down at me.

Daily Reading 669: For several days, the sky was very blue, so blue that there was no trace of dust. The air was cold, and taking a breath was like inhaling ice. There is no wind, but people cannot stand. The tree is dying, and the dead leaves are falling off one by one. I asked the master to look at it and he said that the heating measures were not in place and the water was poured too frequently, so it froze to death. I buried the flower pot numbly. I carved the tree into two cherries and a flower, painted it with varnish, and placed it beside the bed. The following spring, my classmate invited me to see her cherry tree. I went and was shocked. Her tree is full of vitality because she hired her uncle, who is knowledgeable in gardening, to cultivate it.

Daily Reading 670: She asked me, "Where's yours?" "Dead." "Dead?" She looked in disbelief. She smiled proudly. I also laughed. Because I feel like my tree has taught me something that she doesn’t understand. My tree died, but I will not forget my tears and laughter, my dedication and hard work in this process. Because the real purpose of planting this tree is not to obtain the results of the flowers, but to enjoy the process of watering and nurturing it with heart and love. Maybe that's how everything should be. Because life itself is a process, and enjoying the process is more important than showing off the results.

Daily Reading 671: Tuberose is blooming again. The subtle fragrance floats and stirs people's emotions. The moonlight poured on the thin petal, causing it to slowly unfold, revealing the yellow pistil, which was as lively as the smile lines at the corners of her eyes. She loves to take care of flowers. He is short in stature, wearing a navy blue and white patterned cheongsam coat, holding a water bottle firmly in his hand, his two little feet are unhurried, and there is a fragrance everywhere. When she watered the flowers, it didn't feel like she was watering them, but like she was painting, focusing on thick ink and light colors. Holding the handle of the pot with your right hand and the bottom of the pot with your left hand, tilt it downward about 30°, and the strands of water will scatter in the sun. But she seemed to be watching a painting, smiling narrowly, with an inadvertent arc at the corner of her mouth. The wind blew through the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, reminding her of the vicissitudes of time. She seemed completely unaware, immersed in her own world.

Daily Reading 672: The sun is getting bigger and bigger, and the shadows of flowers are moving up the wall inch by inch. Her slow tone floated in the air: "No hurry, no hurry." She suddenly woke me up in the middle of the night. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I yawned endlessly, wondering what kind of medicine this old lady was selling in her gourd. She walked to the yard and stopped. The courtyard is very quiet under the moonlight, and the moonlight coats everything with a layer of white frost, making it seem like a dream. I suddenly woke up. The fifth old lady smiled at me. Following her gaze, I saw it—tuberose. Yes, it is sleeping deeply under the moonlight. Wrapped in clear thin petals like Xiuyu, the bright yellow core is half hidden and half visible, just like a woman's frequently flickering eyelashes. It hasn't woken up yet. The fifth old lady said we would wait.

Daily Reading 673: In the middle of the cold moon, the cool wind stirs up an unknown fragrance. It began to open its eyes, and the petals stretched outward one by one, spreading out and standing pretty. Hanyue Qinghui put a layer of light makeup on it, and the goose yellow core made it look young, pretty and elegant. The fifth old lady smiled and stretched out her hand to touch it, but her hand stopped in mid-air. "It's so beautiful." I said, "It only lasts for one night." A gentle laughter floated in the air. "My child, you don't understand life yet." The aroma became stronger and stronger, and the fifth old lady also noticed it, and her eyes suddenly lit up, "Time, my child, is not a luxury we can have. You can enjoy it, But you can never conquer it. But look, this flower has been beautiful all night. Isn’t that enough?”

Daily Reading 674: The wind is blowing, Old Lady Five. A head of silver hair like a big ball of snow. She smiled, watching the crystal petals fall one by one, and still smiled, enjoying the beauty of each petal. The fragrance was almost gone, but I began to suspect that the fragrance was coming from Fifth Grandma. Half a year later, my mother suddenly told me that my fifth grandma had died. It was noon when she died, and she was tending her flowers, with a watering can in her hand. At the funeral, the third uncle said that the fifth grandma worked too hard and spent half her life working on those flowers. I looked into the coffin and saw Fifth Grandma smiling peacefully. Third uncle lied, it was obviously those flowers that raised her.

Daily Reading 675: It’s the flowering season again, and I stand alone under the moon, quietly watching the blooming of nocturnal flowers. Two hours passed and I waited. Suddenly I remembered Liu Liangcheng's words - "Walk on horseback, walk on donkey, run or crawl, you can all reach the same place." I was startled, and suddenly I truly understood what Grandma Wu said: The best way to cherish time is to enjoy it. Enjoy life. "Take no rush", walk slowly and appreciate it carefully. The flowers suddenly bloomed, the fragrance stirred, the moonlight floated, and it was quiet for a while.

Daily Reading 676: The first time I met green moss, it was not in the courtyard, but in a poem: it was the sentence "You should pity the green moss with the teeth of your clogs" in Ye Shaoweng's "A Visit to the Garden Is Not Worth It". "Not worthy" means "not met", but in this "not met" I clearly read "encounter". The poet met "chai Fei", met "red apricot", and even more beautiful, met "green moss".

"Cang" refers to its greenness, and "moss" refers to its spreading momentum. Cang Moss, waiting for your arrival with the lowest bowed eyebrows.

Daily Reading 677: From then on, every spring, I will look for it - green moss. Under trees, in alleys, in courtyards - it must be a secluded, non-busy place for it to spread. Peaceful, green like a fluffy blanket. Either spread or hang. On the ground, in the stone walls, in the gaps between the bluestones. The most amazing time was when I saw it on an ancient tree next to Lushan Temple. I have seen vines wrapped around trees, but this was the first time I saw trees covered with moss. The ancient tree in front of me is dark brown. On the ancient tree that has gone through many vicissitudes of life, moss spreads bit by bit, covering the ancient tree with a tailor-made beautiful coat, and it is like a gentle arm stretched out by the earth. Hug the tree gently. There is no entanglement, the trees and moss each grow in their own way. The moss has the height of yearning for the blue sky. The trees, because of their greenness, have also reduced their endless vicissitudes and glowed with a youthful luster.

Daily Reading 678: There is also a big tree in my yard, and there is moss at the bottom of the tree. In spring, after the rain, in the early morning, I squatted gently under the tree, took a deep breath of its green color, and then went out. But after a few sunny days, she suddenly discovered that the green moss had almost disappeared without a trace! I was surprised. What kind of little life is this? Which plant is not facing the direction of the sun? But it actually refused to be too enthusiastic! I gently picked a piece, took it home, and placed it in my flowerpot, under an orchid. I give it peace, the right temperature and just the right light. It returned to my small piece of pure land, dressed my flower pots like spring, and kept the green color until midsummer. Therefore, reading "A Visit to the Garden Is Not Worth It" again in the middle of summer will still give you a taste of spring.

Daily Reading 679: At that time, this remote mountain village was still lively, and there were many young people in the village. Once, they stood together on the top of a high mountain in their hometown, looking at the blue sky in the distance. Under the sky was a dazzling blue sea, with silver sail shadows slowly moving on the sea... Once, they walked along the jungle and reed catkins. Flying on the mountain road, running proudly in the wind and rain, "yo ho ho -", running and shouting, waving the clothes that were taken off at the same time. Every little boy is so courageous... Once upon a time, when the curved rainbow rose over the mountain and there were large white clouds rolling on the sea, they would climb to the pine trees covered with pine cones. Go up and look at the endless mountains in the distance...

Friday, May 31st. Daily Dudu 680: However, I don’t know since when, there are fewer and fewer teenagers in the village. The children no longer want to live in such a remote village. They are like starlings migrating in autumn, following their parents who have gone to work in the city, to cities and distant places that no one knows. Now, only Xiaoqiu and a few other children remain in the small mountain village. Xiaoqiu is a lonely child. His father left him when he was very young, and he lives with his sick mother. They lived on the edge of a small village. Not far from his home, there was a small train station. Every time when Xiaoqiu came back carrying firewood, she would stand there and look at it silently for a while. The train came with its whistle blowing, and then went away again with its whistle blowing. Sometimes, he would sit alone on the hillside illuminated by the sunset, watching the train sound its whistle and drive into the distance. A young heart seems to fly very far with the train.