In daily study, work or life, we often see prose, right? Prose in a narrow sense refers to a literary genre parallel to poetry, fiction and drama. I believe that many people feel that prose is difficult to write, right? Here is my help to organize the beautiful prose of reflecting the red mountains, welcome to read and collect.
The first time I heard of Yingshanhong, was a movie when I was a child, called "Shining Red Star", the red star, red flag, red flowers, especially the heart-stopping interlude: "If you want to hope for the Red Army to come, the ridge bloomed all over the yo Yingshanhong ...... ". Now the storyline in the movie has long been blurred, only this beautiful melody and that moving sentiment remains, has been accompanied by my young mind sprouting growth, and that bright and colorful Yingshan red, carrying the childhood passion, dreams, but also carries the hope for a better future.
The first time I really saw the red mountains, is in the middle school in a place called Loquat Creek farm, a classmate said, we also have red mountains on this mountain. That spring, the sleepy mountains just showed a little green, the earth has just recovered, the mountain red on the spring wind with the cold, open alone. And students walked to the mountains, like into the sea of flowers, the red like a ribbon floating into the distance, do not see its beginning, do not see its end; and like a group of lively and happy children, are playing, they are next to me, I'm next to you, each other pushed and squeezed, only to see their red bibs, do not see its figure. In the sunrise, showing the beauty of containment, bursts of fragrance refreshing.
映山红 is the title from the Tang Dynasty, it is a kind of rhododendron, is China's famous flower. It likes to grow on the steep walls of the mountains, it is in full bloom, dense layers, Jinxiu red, known as "flowers in the Xishi", the beauty of the flash in the mountains, decorated in the garden, I do not know how many people's hearts, often sung by writers and writers.
The flowers are pink, each with five or six petals, stamens like a butterfly's whiskers, a branch next to a branch, a crowded one, Chu Chu moving. Although there are no bees for it to dance, there is no eyebrow for it to sing, as always open red hot, far away from the sky, and the sky together, the sky are red. Full of mountain red in the clear green leaves set off more and more delicate, rounded and polished dewdrops crystal clear, quietly nestled in the petals or green leaves, the sun was refracted out of the seven colorful light, so that the world of flowers more than a hazy psychedelic.
Legend has it that in ancient times, the king of Shu Du Yu, very much in love with his people, Zen throne after the seclusion of monasticism, died as a cuckoo bird, every spring, the cuckoo bird flew to wake up the old people, "block cuckoo, fast cuckoo", the mouth cried out blood, blood stained the azalea flowers in the mountains, and also have today's red mountain.
In the spring of this year, a dozen old junior high school classmates, about to revisit the place where the farm - loquat Creek, looking for a point of youthful memory. Decades past, we again came to the place where the red growth, it is still so beautiful, so red. The local villagers said that the red is not simply the beauty of its flowers, petals are edible, sweet and sour flavor, eaten raw to help quench thirst, but also some medicinal value. In the 1990s, the local people once wanted to transplant it to their own fields, although they have thought of many ways, is unsuccessful, either withered, or do not bloom, people had to give up. We ran a farm there and found that loquat trees were growing everywhere in the upper reaches of Loquat Creek, and the lower reaches of the river were covered in red, which is a natural wonder, the mystery of which is still unknown.
The mountain red is not as expensive as peony, not as elegant as lotus, and not as delicate as daffodil. It was born in the light of the mountains, not afraid of the wind and rain, not afraid of ice and snow cover, tenacious survival, year after year of bloom. It will not be unappreciated, lonely and desolate, only for the arrival of spring and brilliant. Quietly in the world of flowers, smell the faint fragrance, viewing the quietly blooming red in the wind swaying, no earthly distractions, is so quiet, secluded, clean. This is my hometown!
Nature is fair, she arranged the scenery of the seasons, both the spring breeze to the rape flowers, but also the dew to the red mountains.
From Chizhou back to Shidai car, I look out of the window, there is always a large piece of rapeseed flowers can not hide in my eyes, without fear of flaunting their splendor and splendor. And the mountain scattered open in the jungle in the red, seem a little cold, open some lonely, let people look a little sad. But they are still open, because the spring is also theirs.
In fact, when I was a child, our children like the red and not canola, because at that time, I think canola is not used to ornamental, but used to grow rapeseed oil frying. Although also bloomed very exuberant and delicate, but did not get our favor. Maybe only the adults look full of joy. And the red? Blooming delicate, blooming beautiful, compared with rape flowers, she is more like flowers. You can also eat, pull out the stamens, put the petals in the mouth to chew, taste sour and sweet. We used to fold them in large quantities and stick them on door frames or keep them in glass jars. Although they would wilt within a day or two, they could make the walls of the house glow for a while. I remember when I was a child, every year to the season of the red blooming, is the old home of the tea season, there will be a batch of firyang from the tea picking women across the Yangtze River, came to our families to live down. Most of them are about twenty years old, just like the age of flowers. Every day they come back from tea picking, I saw a lot of people's head or sideburns with one or two red flowers, against the youthful face, more delicate and charming. One of their biggest wishes was to get a wooden dowry from our hometown, which they could bring back to the north of the Yangtze River at the end of the tea season. And some of their companions and some of my hometown boy feelings, and later married to our hometown, became our hometown of a "mountain red".
At that time, the mountains were full of red, and the mountains were full of red, and the mountains were full of red, and the mountains were full of red, and the mountains were full of red, and the mountains were full of red.
You want to fold the red mountains can be folded in large quantities, no one will blame you; and canola is who can not be picked, she is not only just flowers, she is the future of cooking oil it. Whoever picks canola flowers is wasting and spoiling food, which even the children in my hometown understand. The biggest dream I have had since I was a kid and still have today is to be able to lie down and sleep among the rows of rapeseed flowers and dream of becoming a bee or a butterfly, fluttering freely among the flowers.
Every year in the spring back to his hometown, always along the way with the rapeseed flowers meet acquaintance. This seems to be a long-standing tacit understanding between nature and me. Whether you are walking or riding in a car, the rich aroma of rapeseed flowers is always a burst of attack, and even into the car window, so you can not avoid. Flowers bloom with the season, spring is always sentimental ah. If your heart is a little more detailed, you will find that canola flowers always bloom in the lowlands, open in the fields, while the red is always open in the highlands, open in the mountain slopes, open in the thorns and barren forests. Rapeseed has someone's care and attention, while the red is always self-sustaining; rapeseed blooms and high-profile, while the red is always open so modest and careful, careful to let a person's heartache. If the rapeseed flower is compared to the noble lady of the pearl, then the red is hidden in the boudoir and occasionally open the curtains of the soil cloth to visit the spring of the little family, like the neighboring love shy little sister, tilted his head to look at you, pursed lips, a smile, and then hidden. Across a distance, either far or near, the rape flowers and the red mountains are also looking at each other?
Year after year, spring comes and goes, I just wish these ordinary flowers on earth open and thank you again and again. This, they are happier than people, because their lives are always reincarnated.
The unexpected inverted spring cold, can not hide the April spring thick, the mountains of azalea bloomed, but also rushed to participate in the spring event. Look, on the mountains, cliffs, river gorges, or clusters of clusters, such as fire jumping, or covered the sky, like a blaze. The mountains were dyed red, the village was lit up, reflecting the red --- really an image of the alias.
If you look closer, you will find the red, yellow, white several colors, red and water red, peach red, red, purple red points, truly colorful, dazzling. There are flexible branches, furry leaves, lined with millions of watery trembling "trumpet", Tingting curls, swaying, like dancing in the wind, like playing a "song of the sky", people have a reverie, the heart fluttering.
Pick a flower, remove the stamen, into the mouth to chew, play a childhood trick. A light fragrance from the closed eyes drifted past, sweet and sour fruit flavor, awakened the lost where those distant dreams.
A group of men and women cattle herding children running wild all over the mountain, down the mountain each holding a pocket full of flowers, face also smiled into the red. The countryside children love wildflowers, looking at that red color, can not help but we suddenly thought, so in that lack of fruit in the era, this became our food, and even set up an iron pot to cook and eat. Of course, the taste of boiled is not good, but we are happy to fish up, but the joy of eternal memory.
Turning into a teenager, a piece of white cloth pulled up on the threshing floor, so that our hungry hearts from now on have an idol. The story of Pan Dongzi, we do not know how many times the interpretation of the gun dance stick, and the adults called for dinner is always unable to find a person. I got a red five-star from my cousin's uncle who retired from the army at that time, and every time I acted as Pan Dongzi, I was naturally the only one who could play the role of Pan Dongzi, so I often clutched the hat badge and woke up with a smile in my sleep. Especially the theme song of "Shining Red Star", a song of deep emotion "Yingshanhong", accompanied me all the way to today. Whenever I see the red flowers blooming, I can't help but hum "the ridge is full of yo ying shanhong".
I remember Yang Wanli's poem: "Why do you need to see the spring breeze, all the way to the flowers of the mountain is not a burden to you. The day the Jinjiang River was Jin-like, Qingxi reflecting the mountain red." Indeed, reflecting the mountain red but the poor countryside flowers, never seen in the palace, naturally not compared to those famous garden in the peony, charming and enchanting roses, peonies and so on, can not be counted as a strange woman, but her simple, fresh and enthusiastic, full of vitality of the small family, but also has a lonely and stubborn temperament, is a true reflection of the freedom to win the favor and respect as well. The "clear stream reflecting the mountain red", it is a stunning landscape painting.
The green mountains are full of white rivers, the sound of rain like smoke; the countryside in April, fewer people, before the silkworms and inserted into the field. A piece of paddy field under the long white clouds, like a mirror, "cuckoo - cuckoo - cuckoo -" cuckoo bird voice urging, the figure slipped through the sky. The voice of the cuckoo bird urges, the figure glides across the sky, the voice is still in the ear. This elf is Wangdi Duyu? Was it reminding people not to miss the farming season, or was it calling out to his beloved consort? No matter which version, the legend is so moving, and blood spilled on the river sky, stained red azalea, and from then on there is a mountain red, but the consistent conclusion.
Thoughts in the history of the sky galloped, passion was ignited by the hot picture, the mountains of the mountain red ah, not only for our dedication to the wonderful, but also nourished our nearly dry heart.
The azalea's flower language - on behalf of the joy of love, it is said that people who like this flower is pure and innocent. The aphorism of azalea is that when one sees a mountain full of azaleas in full bloom, it is the time for the God of Love to descend. ------ caption
Knowing that we have to go back to our hometown to hang a grave, my cousin said: bring a little bit of Yingshanhong back, my son hasn't seen Yingshanhong yet! So, I have one more task.
Walking in the hometown of the mountain road, feet although there are a few bumps, but the clear mountain wind exudes grass and soil fragrance, refreshing lungs. The mood is extraordinarily clear, thoughts are like a naughty boy active. Especially that set in the bushes in the scattered red, a bunch of clusters, as brilliant as the sunrise. Let me can't help but hum the movie "Shining Red Star" in the song "Ying Shan Hong". "Ying Shan Hong yo Ying Shan Hong". Not waiting for me to finish singing, accompanied by my cousin interrupted my song: strong sister, tell you, Chairman Mao's bronze statue transported back to Shaoshan, Shaoshan Chong in the red all bloomed. It was October. It's amazing. I stopped singing and asked: Is it true? Cousin said: it's true. I also went to pick it. Speaking full of excitement and joy. Abruptly. I have a mysterious sense of Yingshanhong, let me into it to have it ......
Looking at the roadside Yingshanhong my hands are a little itchy. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it," he said. Cousin smiled and yelled: don't rush. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that.
All along the way, I recalled the scene of my childhood in my hometown. The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey, and it was a long time ago that I was in the middle of a long journey. I had no choice but to bring me back to my hometown of Xiangxiang Shatian when I was just 40 days old, and I grew up sucking on the rice soup of my hometown. I spent my childhood in my hometown, and the deepest memories of my childhood are the baked sweet potatoes and the red mountain.
Grandmother is a very delicate old man, often tell us some strange stories, now I think, grandmother should have read some private school, her Juanxiu extremely rich classical lady temperament, to the later years, grandmother is still clear-eyed, walking fast as a fly, speak in a clear and kind voice. I haven't seen my grandfather, just look at my grandmother's smart and capable, I can understand why my father is so smart and handsome.
The myth of the mountain red is one of the stories my grandmother told us. It was a night when the red was in full bloom, and my cousins and I were sitting around in the sun padding playing by the light of the moon, and my grandmother told us the legend of the red.
Legend has it that a long time ago, a girl was looking for her brother, who had gone up the mountain to cut wood, and she and his brother were dependent on each other, and his brother went to the mountain to cut wood in the cold winds in order to let his sister have a warm winter, and he did not come back for a long time. The sister shouted as she walked along the mountain path, her deep cries echoing in the deep mountain valleys. Tears were shed. But she still hadn't found her brother, so she was burning with longing, and at last the flames of longing dyed the tears into crimson blood, which dripped gurgling onto the flowers. The flower dyed the mountain blood red. People call it reflecting the red mountain.
There is another legend. Legend has it that the emperor of Shu, named Du Yu. He was a very responsible and diligent king, and he loved his people very much. He was very anxious to see people forgetting their worries. In order not to miss the agricultural time, every spring sowing season, he went around, urging people to hurry up a sowing, grasp the spring light.
However, so year after year, but make people develop a habit: Du Yu do not come to not sow.
Finally, Du Yu became sick and said goodbye to his people. But he was still unforgettable to the people. His soul into a small bird, every spring, will fly around, let out the sound of the cries: fast cuckoo, fast cuckoo. He cried until blood came out of his mouth. The red drops of blood spilled over the mountains, turning into a beautiful flower.
The people were so moved that they began to learn from their good king Du Yu and became diligent and responsible. They called that little bird the cuckoo bird, and the flowers that the blood turned into were called azaleas.
Grandmother has been away from us for many years, she was finally buried with her grandfather in the place where she was born and raised, and I still remember the day of her burial, I held her effigy and accompanied the casket the whole way around Ancestral Mountain before laying her body next to my grandfather's along the mountain path. The terrain was very open and there were a lot of reflections.
I went with my cousins along the mountain path and came to the mountain, where there were still a lot of red flowers in bloom. They are quietly waiting there. Or a or a bunch or a nest, in the weeds, under the fir trees, or low blooming or high and proud rage. Like flames of fire, like red and purple. Grandmother's grave is in these red bushes. My cousins and I went to my grandmother's grave to burn incense. I knelt in front of my grandmother's grave, gently touching my grandmother's tombstone with my hand, my father looked very grave, very pious kneeling on my parents' graves and kowtowing y. Grandmother's voice and smile in front of my eyes, the legend of the azalea once again flew in front of my eyes.
After paying homage to my grandmother, I began to pick up the azalea, and when I walked into the cluster of azalea, I suddenly realized that I could not pick it. Because, none of them are perfect. On the same branch some flowers smile like a young girl, some are defeated as the twilight of the fall, and some are budding. The jagged flowers are resplendent in every crevice of their lives. Yet, when you look around, they are so beautiful. It is these jagged flowers that make the mountain red the messenger of the mountain. The splendor of the past and the prospect of the future intertwined into a beautiful bouquet, I stood in the bushes dazed ......
To the cousins regardless of the three, help me pick a big handful, is very beautiful.
Back at home, the thousands of miles traveled in the red has been wilted. I was almost cruel to pick the beauty home, but this beauty is so sad. My heart not only slightly pain. And so. I nourished it with a fresh spring ......