Summer Mountain Village

I don’t remember how many years it has been since I took a good look at summer like this at home. The sky is transparent blue, the clouds are blooming white, and the mountains are lush green. I only come back in autumn and winter every year, so I am a little unfamiliar with this summer, unfamiliar with the bright green and clear sky, unfamiliar with the peace and quiet that is not stained by the hustle and bustle, watching this summer mountain village , the joy arising from this beauty dances in my heart.

Early in the morning, when the sky is slightly bright, the incessant chirping of birds can be heard outside the window. They are chirping, clear and crisp, sometimes singing alone, sometimes singing in chorus. This kind of sound is better than the playing of any musical instrument. , listen to it in your ears and get drunk in your heart.

Sunny summer days in mountain villages are always surrounded by a layer of mist in the early morning. The mist hangs on the top of the mountain and gathers in the valleys, strands and clusters, leaning against the blue sky. Holding the white clouds, caressing the endless green mountains, the skyline as far as the mountain village can be seen is changing gracefully, reluctant to put away the graceful veil it has spread.

The swallows flying low in the sky are not indicating the weather will be cloudy or sunny, they are more like doing morning exercises. In the early morning, there will be about a dozen to twenty swallows in the sky in front of the house, flying around in the sky, flying diagonally, and then flying back in an arc, flying in the sky in strips. Beautiful arc. They were flying in the sky in this area, in an orderly manner, not flying around like sparrows. My mother said that this should be the big swallow leading the little swallow to test flight, and after practicing its flying skills, it will fly south in autumn.

I guess the home of these swallows is under the eaves of my mother’s house. Under the eaves of my mother’s house, there are rows of swallows’ nests. However, I don't recognize them and can't confirm. But how have they ever recognized me? I looked at them intently in their world. Have they ever thought about looking back at me? I want to say, lovely, I love you, I like your early morning practice, which allows me to see such graceful and unrestrained flying. I also want to say, lovely, although I have no wings, my heart is the same as yours, I like the misty morning in this mountain village, and this home under the eaves where you live. Here, my heart feels the happiness that you can't feel, and flies with the joy that you can't fly! Of course, I will feel sad about your upcoming flight to the south and worry about your long journey full of risks. Then, I will throw countless blessings into the sky and wish you a safe and prosperous flight every year. Go and fly back.

This is a gorgeous mountain flower, which has been blooming in my childhood memory. Seeing them, I was pleasantly surprised and intoxicated by this light, blooming blue. At the same time, I felt a sigh in my heart: In front of nature, we are far less than a flower seed or a plant. I still remember when I was about ten years old, because I loved this field of mountain flowers, I climbed up this hillside out of breath countless times and sat beautifully among the flowers, with my red face reflecting the small flowers, as brilliant as the mountain flowers. Today, this mountain flower is still the same as it was in the past, still under the tree, still on this slope, still bathed in wind and rain, facing the summer sun, blooming quietly and enthusiastically in summer. They have continued this splendor for decades, using their delicate light blue to reflect the vast blue sky in the distance. And what about us? How much romance is still reflected on the face, how much innocence is still blooming in the heart, has life ever blossomed, is there ever a season in which life is like a summer flower? Across a long distance of time and space, I just want to gently say to this mountain flower, Hi, it’s great that you are still here!

This is a gurgling stream flowing out from deep in the mountains, running through the entire small village, and slowly flowing into the Muling River. It no longer looks like it did when it was a child. It likes the stream from many years ago. On both sides of the stream are dense willows, lush grass and scattered flowers. Deep in the roots of the willows, there is water up to the knees. There are growing Lots of small fish. The stream was dotted with round pebbles. At that time, the stream was a paradise for us children, where we fished, played in the water, chased and played. During the holidays, in addition to the rushing sound of the creek, there will also be the cheerful laughter of children. Due to the erosion of heavy rains and man-made changes, the current stream has lost its former winding clarity and looks like a slightly narrow river, but it is still the scenery of a small mountain village. In the summer, women still like to wash clothes and quilts here. They roll up their trousers and sit barefoot by the stream. The gentle water caresses the insteps. The stone slabs are natural washboards. Three or two women sit by the stream and talk. Washing clothes at home is a warm and peaceful atmosphere. This place no longer attracts today's children, but it is still a paradise for little animals to play.

I don’t know why I like this kind of blue sky so much. I can’t describe this kind of love. It’s like meeting an open-minded knight and righteous man. There are no words to say, but just looking at it like this makes me feel happy all over. Full of righteous upward power. Staring at this soul-cleansing sky, I suddenly remembered an unrelated sentence: I know the wind in my heart has been blowing towards you, but I have to go against the wind! My words make me slightly sad. In this life, how many people can always walk in the direction of their hearts? We all want to be children chasing the wind, letting our hearts fly freely, like sunflower flowers, always facing the sun, but , how many people can really achieve such beauty! For many years, I have loved the endless blue sky, which seems to fill my heart with clarity.

This is a very small mountain village in the north. It is surrounded by mountains and has a river flowing beside it. There are less than a hundred villagers. Many years ago, I didn’t want to see it. The poverty and isolation here made the villagers live. It's hard to learn, and it's a mountain road that can't be walked. Children in rural areas are burdened with heavy suffering at a young age. I remember that when I was listening to the radio when I was a child, I heard a passage written by an unknown writer. The general idea was that when taking a train, I passed through small mountain villages scattered on the way. When I saw the scattered low and dilapidated houses, he wanted to compare them to They are tombs, lifeless and without any light of life. I agree with this statement. At that time, most of the endless toil in the countryside could only provide food and clothing for the family. The meaning of life only existed in being alive. The situation in the city and the countryside was very different.

I will never forget the desolation I felt when I stood in a foreign city and looked at the lights of thousands of houses many years ago when the lanterns first came on. The city was so big and there was no home for me. How I wish there was even a dim light that belonged to me. Under the light, there were my parents with loving and caring eyes. But I know that my parents may still be working in the fields at that time, suffering from mosquito bites, or they may be walking home, dragging themselves with fatigue.

Fortunately, they are all gone. In recent years, the country’s series of rich peasant policies have brought about earth-shaking changes in the countryside. This small mountain village has shaken off those sufferings, and the villagers have become rich. My parents have worked hard all their lives and now live a comfortable life. Some people have left the village and gone to towns or cities. My father has never disdained their move. In his eyes, this The small mountain village is the most beautiful place in the world. It is both his home and the distant place in his dreams.

My parents are here, and my warmest home is here.

This small village has beautiful mountains and clear waters, but also has various vicissitudes of life. On this bright summer day, I just want to show its beauty, and wish this fertile soil a bumper harvest and good health every year!