The color of the mountain changes many times a day, at dawn, noon, afternoon and evening, each is different.
In the morning, the air is very clean, the mountains are very close, and the ravines on the mountains can be seen clearly.
At noon, when the sun was at its top, they were smoky and indistinct.
In the evening, the west slopes are beautifully colored, wrapped in the most gorgeous blanket¡ªyou've never really seen one, a big rose-red blanket!
The blanket took away all the light of the day and gently opened the prelude to the night.
I tried it. I stayed on the marble on the east slope of the town until late at night, watching the changes in the sky, the earth, and the distant mountains, which made me hungry and dizzy.
I also used to sleepwalk in the middle of the night, together with the dog wagging its tail, from the house to the street, as if I was in front of the mountains, as if I was just a little soul, lost in the translucent night. But the dog knows everything, so it takes me where I want to go and accompany me quietly.
The world of night and day has always had two faces.
In the night, the wavy silhouette of the mountain is attached to the blue sky like a porcelain basin, so far away and out of reach.
If the moon is good, just like in the ancient poems taught by my grandfather, the moon is white and the wind is clear, or the moon is like frost, the wind is like water, or the moon is thin, and the black magpies fly south
Just like that, in the dead of night, you want to finish reading "Charlotte's Web" in one go, or wake up suffocated by urine
In short, when all things are asleep, you are awake, listening to the breath of the night, listening to Lin Tao in the distance, walking around the house, tiptoeing.
As a result, you saw the moonlight, the moonlight shining in from the small window, so familiar, like a dream in childhood.
You can't sleep, you would rather be in the dark, because the moonlight is so beautiful, bread, candy, glutinous rice wine, soft violin, nothing can compare to its beauty.
You gently open the door, walk out of the street, and walk into the moonlight.
why?
If there is a relative around, he will tell you that when you were a toddler, you were always sick and cried at night.
Yes, I was very sick when I was a child, and I always cried at night.
Grandma said: "Do evil, do evil, be cruel! How can a child live without milk?"
She kept cursing a person, a person whose life was closely related to mine.
Grandpa said: "Don't nag those useless things."
So, she recited the Buddhist scriptures she usually recited.
Grandma kept saying: "The sky is Lingling, the earth is Lingling"
Grandpa carried me out and walked into the moonlight. I felt the slightest cool breeze blowing over my small forehead, it was very light, probably it also knew that I was just a little baby who left the mother's arms not long ago.
Grandpa paced lightly in the moonlight field, humming all kinds of music to me.
In addition to the music, I also heard some distant wind and forest waves rolling over the hillside in the distance.
I stopped crying, I opened my dark eyes, looked around, looked at the moon, looked at the mountains in the distance, so quiet, listening
It happens every time. So, no matter how old you are, on a moonlit night, you will get up, go to the moonlight, look at the moon, and go to the mountains.
On such a night, everything fell asleep, and one or two dogs in the distance were awake. They barked once or twice, as if to say: Hey, kid, can you see me?
People say that dogs can see ghosts at night.
There is a book that says that if you miss your loved ones who died young and want to meet their souls, you must go to them by stepping on the moonlight in the dead of night.
I want to find grandpa.
I walked from the door of the small brick house to the street. It is an infinitely open place, with mountains in front of you.
I sat down on the rock and looked at the mountain.
Grandpa, grandpa, do you know I'm here?
The air is so clean that people fall asleep and never wake up.
No one can bother you, grandpa, come out, from the ground, from the bend of the river, from the folds of the mountains, from the forest like dark clouds, grandpa, I will wait for you
The mountain is like a shadow, it seems to be moving and floating.
I didn't move, and saw them holding hands, jumping up the Guozhuang, and spinning
During the daytime on weekends, if the weather is fine, I will go to my observation deck and watch the sky.
Over there in the county seat, those houses,bsp; Each chime of a bell will travel far, far away, and be sent out, echoing on the road, on the roof, and in the woods.
The morning bell appears almost at the same time as the sunrise.
At that time, grandpa was on his way from home to the office. There was a slight smile on his face, and he was lost in thought again, looking at the classroom in the distance, or behind the classroom, the pine forest on the hillside farther and higher.
He always maintains that straight posture and a calm spirit.
The bell at dusk, I will never forget it when I am old.
When I staggered back in the bell and on the small road, I saw the wooden house we lived in from a distance, with warm yellow lights overflowing from each window, and the shadow of my grandfather floating on the thin window paper.
He is preparing lessons, or reading books, newspapers, and magazines.
In the middle of the room, an electric lamp with an enamel disc lampshade hangs from the beams of the roof. Grandpa, tables and chairs all leave shadows on the ground, just like those sketches, which create a three-dimensional effect when they are connected with shadows.
Grandpa lost all his hair on the top of his head, but had hair on his ears. People said that he looked too much like Lenin.
Dad is in the kitchen preparing dinner.
The kitchen used a horse lamp, which was frayed and gave off a foul smell of kerosene smoke. The fried tofu in the pot made a puffing sound, and my father added half a ladle of water.
The water ladle was planed out of the best green gang wood by an old carpenter in Wangjiazhai and given to grandpa. I know that this old carpenter is not an ordinary craftsman, and his things are not easy to give away.