In the Ming Dynasty Gao Lian's "Four Seasons Appreciation Record": "The sound of flying snow is the most elegant in the bamboo." The mountain window is cold on night, when listening to the snow sprinkled in the bamboo forest, the water is Xiaoxiao, even fluttering, the sound is leisurely, and I listen clearly. ”
Wandering in the countryside of the hometown on holidays, encountering the snow in the sky, the bamboo forest behind the house is rustling, and the sound is like broken jade. The heart is full of cool and ancient meaning, a pillow of dawn, cold birds perching on frost branches, and winter light is like a village brew.
On frosty and snowy days, it is advisable to go to the old village, about old friends of Buyi, and eat farmhouse brewing and chewing local vegetables on the mulberry wood table of the old house of Vashon. The dog barks in Chaimen, the wind and snow return to people, the snow is looking for plums, and the frost night listens to more, the warmest thing on the earth. The snow-covered village is an ethereal and soft ink artistic conception, and a clear freehand in the vast world.
Sometimes, the snowflakes are falling in a stream, soft as boneless, absolutely clear, and everything in the world is embroidered with Qionghua and full of desolation. Leaning on the small wooden lattice window, quietly appreciating the light snowflakes, the years are quiet, and the heart is abundant. The wind swept through the corrugated walls, leaving behind a string of clear flutes. The snow in the courtyard has a mild home-style taste;The snow outside the courtyard is leisurely and leisurely, such as the Jin people's book. Persimmon trees and loquat stand up their backbones, stretch out their iron arms, and hold the powder snow, which is beautiful and graceful, like people who are middle-aged, hiding the strong and bright colors, showing the temperament of ink and wash, revealing the true purity.
Snow is a festival between heaven and earth. Snowflakes are fireworks that bloom, spinning and flying unwillingly, lightly, hugging and hugging, making a crisp smile, covering the chaos and ravines of the world. Snowflakes, bustling to the world, are angels who fall into the mortal dust, and the eyes of God blown away by the wind, soothing all things and moistening the soul. Listening to the sound of the last few persimmons falling to the ground on the persimmon tree on a snowy day, it is silent and remote, like a middle-aged man's heart, walking and stopping, wanting to talk about it.
The countryside after the snow is prosperous and plain, crowded and ethereal, and there is a stretch and elegance in the vastness. A person walks on the snowy path with his hands behind his back, folding a bamboo branch, and the artistic conception is clear, such as entering the bleak painting of Fan Kuan's "Snow Scene and Cold Forest". Azure is like Song porcelain, full and soft. Heaven and earth are like an amber, as illusory as a light dream. The snow fell on the city, a hustle and bustle, and it was ruthlessly cut, piled up, and eradicated until the incense disappeared.
The snow falls in the countryside, the countryside is as quiet as a virgin, such as returning to the ancient flood famine, vaguely hearing the ancient Yu Shun and Gao Tao as poems and singing, Shu Qi, Bo Yi's sad Cai Wei song, the sound of the oars of the prince Youxue's night visit to Dai Qinnai, the Miao Yu Panxiang Temple takes the plum blossom snow to cook tea, and the Zhang Dai Lake Heart Pavilion is idle poetry and wine. Listen to the deepest Zen, the most secluded quiet. Listen to the clarity of heaven and earth, and the silence and joy of the inner world. At this time, go out of the firewood gate, step on the snow to find plums, look for relatives and friends, and the world is free.
The snow closed the door, and the sky and the earth were silent. Pale cyan smoke rises, and the sound of mallets rises one after another. The branches are like piano keys, plucked by the wind, and emit a rough and gentle musical sound. Winter snow makes the village lazy. Farm work is put on hold for the time being. The village women pickled bacon, took the soles of their shoes, and weaved their clothes, which were as beautiful as ancient ladies. The sound of village children playing in the snow startles the birds and birds that are foraging for food. The old man pushed the door to clear the snow and sat with his eyes closed. Stepping on the snow, like the murmur of autumn insects, pan pancakes, the world is full of subtle taste.
Snowy nights in the countryside, high and vast. The courtyard is covered with snow and ankles, the moonlight is as clear as a stream, and it is as quiet as a canvas, and the tiled houses and dead trees are inlaid on the canvas. Sitting idle on a snowy night, talking around the fireplace, warming the soul with a soft artistic conception.
Cooking snow and making tea, appreciating the dissolved snow outside the window, smelling the wisps of plum fragrance in front of the window, is elegant and elegant. Boiled potato porridge, stewed mushroom pickle soup, simmered haggis and garlic stem soup, the family sits idly, and the lights are amiable. Boil a pastoral complex, stew a warm old and poor.
Outside the window, the snowflakes are fluttering, the wind is blowing, listening to the lightness of Banderry, or the sad song, sadness and nostalgia, gratitude and compassion, and the cotton clothes are wrapped like ironing. The notes are full of passion and explode in the winter cold, reaching the depths of the soul. The light is faint, and the room is dense, and there is a mysterious atmosphere. Or, holding the Ming and Qing dynasties, the Tang Dynasty Xiaokai, painting landscape albums, poems and dancing snowflakes, words such as the wind and weak willows, "Where to find the joy of reading?".Count the plum blossoms in the heart of heaven and earth. ”
Snow, with a dark fragrance, with a clear beauty, went to an invitation to the end of the world. Snow is the petals that bloom when the water of life is reincarnated, poetic and beautiful, making people feel a kind of gentleness and elegance, a kind of holiness and nobility.
For a long time, there was no sound, and the door was a few feet deep. "The snow is quiet and quiet, poetic and calm. Go to the countryside to trample on the plain snow, trample on the fireworks life, and find an indifference and quaintness. Take a handful of winter snow, the heart is like a silver bowl**, and it is more beautiful and long-lasting. Artemisia bamboo shoots, listening to the snow and looking for plums, and red clay small furnaces, are all floating and happy, and they are all vigorous nostalgia.
From: 2023-12-20 Songjiang Daily