"Walking Song"
Text/Li Wenying
One
The new site of the unit is located on the edge of the city, and when it was just moved, there stood a lonely high-rise building in front of and behind, and it was cold. Every day to work and walk, you have the opportunity to walk through a semi-desolate field, when you just moved over, it is still winter, the road is desolate, even the birds and finches are not seen, only the long-lost wild northwest wind roars from the unobstructed field in the morning, sharp and sharp, wrapped in a thick cotton suit against the wind, unconsciously while walking and singing, walking only to find that he is humming "The Wolf of the North", feeling the cold between the lips and teeth, the heart can't help but waner, and the feet are relaxed.
Spring comes with the smell of the soil turning green, even the morning sun has become as fresh as youth, birds chirping, the breeze blowing, whispering in people's ears, the breath of earth, the breath of grass, the breath of sunshine, all steaming in the warm air, smoking people's eyebrows are drunk.
Walking through the hot summer days in the strong aroma of the plants being sunburned with essential oils, I suddenly found that the purple cup-sized morning glory flowers were opening on the side of the road, and the grass leaves began to hang on the crystal dewdrops, and if I accidentally stepped on them, the shoes and pants were wet. Early autumn is coming, and the autumn insects in the grass are muttering, singing like a serenade. The reeds in the big depression bloomed reeds, shining white and snow in the golden sun, swaying with the wind and covering the field. Tens of millions of years ago, when this was a zeal country, the years changed, the vicissitudes of the mulberry field, the seeds of the plants remained in the soil, every year, yellow and green withered, endless, the genes hidden in the small seeds inscribed with the memories of the previous life, recording the distant history of this land. When you leave work, walking alone in the wilderness under the autumn sunset, you have a feeling of being desolate.
It was only two years, the edge of the field was fenced, and high-rise buildings grew on the flat ground, and the reeds of the generations of "wildfires burned endlessly, and the spring wind blew and grew again", I did not expect that in this season it had become a song, and soon after, the buildings would be filled with hardened pavement, and the last memory of the land would finally be broken. Everywhere I turned into a large construction site, and to avoid the dust that covered the sky, I took a detour.
Two
On the way to work, there is a trestle, the shallow bottom is paved with cobblestones, and the water's edge is surrounded by stacked marbles, encircling a cluster of calamus and red indigo, although it is artificially carved, but in the reinforced concrete urban jungle, it also adds some wild interest. The bridge is the original color of the wooden board, after the wind and rain, because of the slight roughness and present a more natural ancient and simple old, step on the sole of the foot can feel the vibration of the slight trembling between the wooden boards, through the "bang bang" of the foot sound, the hurried walk will have a little more texture, from the foot to the heart of the person. Because of a bend, there are few pedestrians on the bridge, so it is more quiet, every day deliberately go over a section, a good day, a good mood began in this beautiful walk.
Turning over the trestle, it is the best green section in the city, with green grass and intricately planted with various flowers and trees. When the spring rain moistened the field of vision, the magnolia flowers out of the beautiful buds, every day to bypass the grass deliberately go to the flower tree, to see how much yesterday's one bloomed, stretched how much, carefully appreciate for a while, the mouth can not help but hum a song: "Spring flowers are a small bud ..." When you turn back on the road, the corners of your eyes sweep over a canopy of spring on the shore of the artificial lake, delicate and delicate yellow, after the human vision has gone through a winter of silence, giving people a surprise, so spring is immediately bright.
Begonias make spring noisy, right? Grease fu powder, thick makeup lightly, stirring the air is ready to move. If the butterflies are busy, the birds are chirping, and the huge flower magpies spread their wings and fall from the branches to the ground, showing their snow-white wings and feathers, will bring good luck, right? On the way to work, it is more leisurely, looking for the most posture around the flower tree, taking pictures, leaving a shadow, cherishing the fate of this passing encounter and laughter, even if it blooms next year, it is not the one in front of you!
Along the way, hibiscus, ziwei and cloves are also on the field, and the seasons are flowing, and in the blink of an eye, most of the year has passed. To take this road, you always have to go out a few minutes in advance, because you walk all the way and linger, the good morning light is impatient to wear out, but pedestrians are happy because of the beautiful scenery around them every day.
Three
There are two rows of poplars planted on the newly built sidewalk, the canopy meets in the sky, the umbrella covers the most comfortable boulevard in the summer, and the "Stone Record" says that I don't like the poplar trees without a wind and grass to "buzz", but I like the big leaves of the poplar trees waving in the wind, "sand la la" wind like a song. In the early morning of summer, all the way to the west, the dense foliage shades the clear sky, cool and refreshing, what can you do without singing at this time? "On both sides of the main road on campus, there is a row of young poplars, in the morning you are draped in colored light, in the evening you kiss the sunset..." All the way to the wind, walk and sing, until people forget me and seem to be the only one between heaven and earth.
The autumn sun is the most pleasant, and overnight the path is covered with huge brown, pale, brown-green leaves, stepping on it — as Garfield said — to make the crisp sound of potato chips. If the mist of late autumn is misty and the sun is misty and lazy, the path will be filled with a smell of land damp mixed with plant decay, déjà vu, as if opening a door to an unknown situation, and at the end of the door is the fallen leaves on the childhood country road carrying the first traces of nostalgia in life? Or is it the yellow leaves that fell into the arms of the teenager when he strolled the playground confirmed the first sorrow of youth? Memories travel through distant time and space with the sense of smell, but suddenly lose their landing, leading people all the way through, and at the end of the trance road there are answers given by the years.
The four seasons are like a song, or the answer is in the footprints of step by step...