In November of this year, I returned to my hometown.
That afternoon, I walked out of the house alone. The sky is blue, the fields are open, the rice is returned to the barn, the ramie fields are empty, and the peppers are laid on the barn like a red carpet. The fruits of the harvest are gathering into the farmer's yard from all directions, and the eyes of the croppers overflow with the joy of harvest. Their vision has been filled with the bounty of nature, and before everything is about to enter a silent season, the fine weather and the hard work of getting up early and working late will satisfy the desire to return to the warehouse.
The sun shone on the field after the harvest, and the earth was like a mother who had given birth to a baby, happily stretching out under the open clear sky, lying down. **It's paddy fields, **it's dry land, **it's ridges, **it's creeks, all of which can be seen clearly. In some open spaces, some weeds grow, and the cows bury their heads in it to enjoy the delicious taste of the young grass, flicking their tails from time to time, showing a rare leisure;Chickens are jumping in the rice fields pecking at the grain or insects left behind by the farmer. The wilderness can only be so quiet and serene after the harvest.
The lotus leaf withered, curled up on the dead branch, the wind blew, swayed a few times weakly, or broke down from the branch, close to the water, no matter how the wind blows, it is just lazily shaken a few times, and can no longer flutter. The last lotus flower, no longer white, slightly black and yellow, as the lotus canopy shook a few times in the wind, it fell to the water, like a paper boat folded by children, swaying on the water surface, and then blown into the dead branches and leaves with the wind, and disappeared in an instant. Late-blooming cotton in the distance. Dotted with brown cotton branches, this is the last flower of autumn.
The mission of sweet potato leaves in the field is nearing its end. Pockets of sweet potato fields are making the final game with the season, full of fighting spirit, and the green leaves are rolling. The proud sweet potato leaves are stalked around the neck, continuing the repetition of the entire cycle: tilting the head to absorb the essence of the rain and dew of heaven and earth, and continuously conveying it to the roots along the clear veins of warp and weft. Under the help of light, the leaves undergo a complex chemical reaction to nurture the slender rhizomes into huge fruits. Autumn frost ripened sweet potatoes. Once frosted, it will immediately be like a pear or a jujube, sweet and crisp and refreshing.
The weak remnants of the autumn cicada are a specialty of autumn, and it is a specialty of the countryside. Because the village is covered with trees and the houses are low, you can hear their singing everywhere. The chirping of this autumn cicada, like crickets and rats in the countryside, is simply a house worm kept in the house by a farmer.
Sometimes the swallows fly high into the sky, sometimes low in the jungle or in the bamboo garden, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in flocks, like diligent security guards, patrolling back and forth;The bee quietly rested on the edge of the broken petals, and only for a moment, and in the time of respite, the posture of the wings was adjusted, like a delicate girl, and when the weather was cold, she put a gauzy feather robe on her shoulders. The sky is so high, and the clouds are so light. A few geese hovered over the field, and then, slowly, flew away, with attachment, perhaps hope.
There are abandoned interpretations, only empty shelves, and they stand on their own in a barren land. It used to look out at the waves of the river, and now, all it leaves behind is the memory of the river. On the ridge, I saw the person who was still full of black hair in my impression, but found that her head was already covered with autumn frost. I haven't seen her for a few years, and she's getting old. This morning, on the way home, I was still thinking about her appearance - the wind was gently blowing, gently caressing her hair, the autumn wind swaying her graceful figure, fresh and hazy, lonely and warm, which made me feel like an empowerment ......
The silk thatch on the edge of the ridge is old, yellow, spit out silk, white white, gray gray;The great reeds had dried up, and the broken leaves all over the ground had been picked up and trampled by the oxen again and againThe leaves of the bitter tree are yellow, a breeze blows, and there are a few yellow leaves, perhaps unable to withstand the bewitchment of the autumn wind, with the help of the wind, in the air to pose a tango dance, draw a beautiful arc, complete the transmutation and sublimation of its life.
At this moment, my heart also fell with the fluttering leaves, and I couldn't help but slow down to explore the footprints of the leaves. I leaned over and picked up a neem leaf, the veins and latitudes on the leaf were still clear and textured, and there were still traces of youth on my body, recording its glorious past. I looked up, and there were a few remaining sheets on the neem tree, old, yellow, and the autumn wind blew, and they would not fall. Alas!Scattered fallen leaves, it was also a guest on the branch, and it was also a lace guest. In the fierce competition in the spring and summer, its energy has been swelled to the head, and it has experienced the vigor of spring;After the prosperity of the hot summer, the majesty of the shallow autumn, maybe it is still proud of the life that once held up the tree, but no matter how brilliant it once was, how radiant, after all, the past is gone.
It is said that the leaves fall back to the roots, and I think that the leaves must not want to come to the alternate season of autumn and winter and leave this prosperous world. Eventually, however, they gave up wandering unnecessarily, and drifted down. Look back at the path I've walked on my own. Before I could be seriously young, time had already passed around my fingers. When I understand it, I can only grow old helplessly. Who can chase back yesterday and the day before yesterday, as well as the childhood that did many stupid things, the dream of a young mother and first love, are far away from this old autumn.
In late autumn, other flowers bloom and fall, but lentil flowers fall and bloom, with small purple petals, like butterfly wings. Walking on air. On the edge of the vegetable furrow, the old green loofah vine is still lying on the tree tree, with small yellow flowers and small loofahs;On the edge of the vegetable fence, the old peppers and eggplant stalks are neatly dried, and it seems that the last stubble of autumn peppers and eggplants is picked up from the ground. On the vegetable bed, the nine-square grid is like a vegetable nest, and each vegetable nest has a small green life sprouting up, and the autumn wind blows, straight up, and a new round of vigor will be re-derived on the land.
Autumn is silently working with winter, quietly giving birth to the new green of the coming year. (Nine full).