It has always been believed that the autumn in Shanghai is like a mass actor who is not looked at directly, mixed in the time of the years, and if he is not careful, he disappears from sight. Especially after the green plants replaced the sycamores on the side of the road.
It is indeed difficult for Shanghai to see the true face of autumn. The first time I worked in Pudong was in the autumn, and I shuttled through the city every day. Take the 74 turn 71 road from west to east, like a fast arrow, People's Square, the big world passes by, straight down the Bund. The car window is full of spring colors, camphor green oil; holly turquoise shines; flowers and green signs, flashing neon lights, festival-like bustle, where is there a hint of autumn depression?
this year. Shanghai's summer is not like summer, but it has always refused to give way, grinning and dragging to occupy the stage of the season, squeezing autumn into a ball of meat sandwich steamed buns.
Yesterday went to Xiangyang, along the way to see three or three pairs of hibiscus flowers, the branches gradually bald, the leaves on the top of the branches, accompanied by small purple flowers, such as a little warmth into a faint fragrance, leisurely floating. The flowers and leaves are gradually thinning but warm and warm, staring at each other with deep affection, as if they have turned into the last style before the wind and frost come.
I didn't notice what they look like in their lush period, just like many times, losing to know how to cherish is similar, but I like silence, and flowers like silence. I can't be silent with it.
The begonias on Yingyang Road have run out of flowers. The dense foliage is still verdant, giving people a feeling of beauty, a hope, and a cool look. The ginkgo biloba forest on the side of the road has appeared a touch of goose yellow, heralding the advent of the vicissitudes of the twilight year after the vitality, and when the autumn color is deep and the yellow is dyed, this piece of gold leaf will moisten the richness of the season.
That side of the rice field is the color of autumn, the background color of the crops' hearts, and the background color that the countryside should have. They change and surge under the autumn sun, hitting the bosoms that are surging with the wind.
In autumn, my favorite thing is tea tasting. One morning, I was able to quietly drink a cup of tea until it was colorless and tasteless. At dusk, or stand still in the courtyard, or go to the small river on the edge of the village to sit quietly for a while. Watch the wind idly passing in front of the door, stroking the branches of the neighbor's Metasequoia. It seems speechless, but I can understand the tinkling of the wind, as if to carefully make a promise of gratitude and cherishing to that needle.
People often say that there is no scenery around us, and that is because we ignore the beauty around us. It is not a scenic spot, but there is also the most precious time in the world. The heart is kind and kind, and it does not care about the seasons, and does not care about the spring light and autumn sun. Even a small vegetable field can taste a gentle and moving situation.