Keywords: Author: Tang Min
Lore has it that daffodils were changed from a couple. The husband's name was Marigold and the wife's name was Hundred Leaves. Therefore there are two kinds of daffodil flowers, the single-petaled one is called marigold and the heavy-petaled one is called lily pad.
The "lily pad" has four petals, two large white petals sandwiched between two short yellow petals. Look at the past both simple and complex, like a woman in southern Fujian good at silence, half-lowered head, eyes looking down. Sorrow is also silent, joy is also silent.
"Marigold" consists of six white petals to form a plate, on top of which is placed a yellow petal made of wine marigold. This flower looks at a glance, and indeed has the man's dry and simple enthusiasm. In particular, the marigold-shaped core of the flower, make people think of the death of a man who does not forget to drink wine.
If they had not been married before they changed into flowers, the lily pads would have been pure white, and the marigolds would not have had white trays. There is no other flower in the world that embodies the mutual penetration of husband and wife like the daffodil, is there? Often imagine Jinzhan drunk to intimate his wife Momoha, the liquor stained Momoha body, so that her flowers have a short yellow petals. When Baiba was angry, Jinzhan held a glass of wine, wanting to drink but not daring to, and came over in a low voice to please Baiba. At times like this, daffodils give off an extremely sweet fragrance, the fragrance of conjugal harmony on earth, pervading the family welcoming the New Year.
Just married, it does not matter if there are children. As long as there is one person traveling, the other will find ways to follow. The first thing you need to do is to get a good deal of money from your family, and then you will be able to get a good deal of money from your family. When you go to a place where you have friends, you have fun for a few days and make happy memories. A life without burdens, walking around the land, was called "the song of the guerrillas". Every place, go to see the scenery, drilling alleys and streets, attacking the eye can see the flavor of the snacks.
But suddenly, very much want to get the only "only child".
I started raising daffodils at the beginning of winter.
From that moment on, I saw daffodils as a symbol of my child.
Like a lottery, I chose one of the most expensive flower bulbs in a pile.
If the flower is "marigold", there will be a son; if the flower is "lily pad", there will be a daughter. With a knife to cut open the flower bulb, carefully carved leaf stems, a **** there are six buds. Looking at the buds wrapped in the leaf membrane like chubby babies, I was so nervous. Is it a son or a daughter? I hope it will produce "marigold" flowers. From the bottom of my heart, I hope it will be a boy. I don't despise girls. Rather, I love her indescribably. I love her so much that I can't bear to let her come into this world.
The reason for this is that there is no guarantee that she will be happy for the rest of her life, and that she will not be able to get the most beautiful love in her short life. Especially worried about her body and appearance is not beautiful and despised, if she is strangely ugly, but on the contrary, intelligent and kind, it is doomed to how painful her life will be.
And boys are different. Men are made of clay. Suffering makes them strong.
"God" made man out of clay, but made woman out of man's ribs. The ribs have fresh blood and flesh on them, and just the slightest touch can be painful to the heart. Therefore, a woman cannot tolerate even the smallest injury.
In this sense, women are extremely sharp and delicate insects. Their antennae, their eyes, their soft and boneless bodies, and their voluptuous wings are created simply to feel love, to receive love, and to attract love. They are the first to anticipate disaster, and the first to die prematurely under the blow of disaster.
One day I was having a drink with a friend at a coffee shop. The friend, who has nearly 10 years more experience than the man, said, "A man feels happy in the process of loving the woman he likes. He feels happy because the other person accepts everything he does for her. A woman is the complete opposite, she is happy just by receiving love. If a woman loves and pursues the man she likes, it is painful, and there is no happiness for the man she loves. It is a very marvelous feeling."
In the vast twilight, looking down from the window beside the seat, the street was as full of pedestrians as water, and many men and women of all sorts of births were hurrying about.
"Generally speaking, a man's love lasts longer than a woman's. Whenever a woman, on whom he has pinned an affection, turns to him for help after many years, he will always do his best to help her. A man does not care much what the woman has done to herself before."
That moment reinforced the determination to have a son. Boys are not only naturally better able to adapt to society and endure hardship than girls, but they are also a source of happiness for women. I hope that my son will at least treat the women in his life with kindness and give them a sense of permanent happiness in their lives.
"The greatest disadvantage of being a man is that there is no way of cherishing the adoration of a woman he does not like. This revulsion from the heart is not at all hypocritical, they can not help but show their contempt for that woman. The frivolous teenager goes even further, hurting a girl like that in public. This is the evil side of men."
Thinking of her daughter, if she is lucky enough to be spared public humiliation and meets a man who knows exactly how to respect her feelings, but treats that respect as love for her, isn't that sadness deeper? In the case of a man, the failure of the pursuit did not destroy the beauty of the pursuit; in the case of a woman it became a lifelong shame.
How to think, or do not want a girl.
The daffodils used for divination are slow to open.
The daffodil grows strong, never sunshine but also green, tiger and vitality.
Later, the flower buds broke through the wrapped leaf membrane, like the peacock's tail opened.
Each flower bone is full, but has been refused to open.
Is it "marigold" or "lily pad"?
Freud's theory is scary enough. Babies are born with the desire to love at the time of feeding. And the behavior of the whole life is governed by eroticism.
By chance, I listened to a Buddhist student's class and talked about Buddhism's "karma" theory. The 12 karmas are the laws of cause and effect that govern life from conception to death, and the power that governs all tangible and intangible life and spiritual change is lust. Not only is the feeling of the living person towards himself towards things governed by lust, but even the soul, which has not yet acquired the form of life, is also governed by the same.
Those who give birth to daughters do so because a female soul falls in love with a man who is the father, throws herself into his arms, and becomes his daughter; and those who give birth to sons do so because a male soul falls in love with a woman who is the mother, throws herself into her arms, and becomes her son.
If I hadn't heard such a statement until my death, I wouldn't have burned such a horrible fire mark in my mind, but now I can't forget it.
I went home and asked my husband, "Do you want a boy or a girl?"
"A girl!" He answered without hesitation.
"Boy!" Exasperated!
"Why?" He wondered.
And had no answer.
And so, the daffodils that he had seen in his dream opened.
It was a girl's flower, full of flowers.
The disappointment is indescribable.
The two flowers that bloomed side by side at the top said, "Mommy doesn't love them, so go to hell!"
They fell down and were immersed in a pot of boiling water.
By the time they were hurriedly picked up and offered to be taken away, they were as hot as boiled cabbage leaves.
After a few days, sure enough, the girls' flowers opened.
In just a few days they desperately tried to let go of all their blossoms. There was also one stem that drew the highest, and in this cluster two of the largest flowers opened side by side. Unlike in the dream, they were not holding their heads up, but all of them were lowered, as if blown by the wind, and the flowers were tilted in one direction. The stem of the longest drawn flower suddenly stood not straight and fell limply to the east. Tied with a string, with a pencil, can not support. If you are not careful, the stem will fall down.
I don't know how sorry, how sad. All day long looking at this pot of blooming flowers. It sends out a burst of sharp fragrance, aroma straight into the heart. They ignored the concerns of those who were struggling to express their beauty for their own sake.
Each flower was so white that it floated in the air and rested like a cloud. The yellowish flowers among them are the sunshine in the clouds. Their short flowering period passes by minute by minute.
Their hearts despised .
The groom is busy with official business every day, from flower to flower, he did not care once, not to mention talked about them. He didn't know about the ghost's heart.
So this pot of girl's flower is more show how unfortunate.
Their flowers bloomed and faded, but still beautiful.
One day there was a blackout and a candle was lit on the table.
When they came up from downstairs, they found the candle had gone out and the room was dark.
He struck a match.
It was the daffodil that poured over the candle and put out the fire. It was the stem of the highest drawn flower that poured over the candle. Like the flowers in the dream, they killed themselves.
The candle burned two daffodils, half of each. The remaining half was still as watery and open as ever, with a dark, shiny ink line where the half-flower had been.
It took a long time to come back from the shock.
This is the girl's flower, the knife-like flower.
You can do many wrong things in the world, but never do anything to hurt a girl.
Only the pot for the daffodils is left.
Neither a boy nor a girl is wanted, not to mention the dreaded divination.
Zhong Lao prose: daffodils
Our local daffodils, are the province (Guangzhou) port (Hong Kong) to come, whenever the waxing moon time, a few to and from the province and Hong Kong merchants, will be transported from there one or two baskets back. This kind of thing, in our place is not much "head", except for some rich family or line store, and a few for his hobby of sexual fetish people, other people do not buy this. Its price, a few years ago, about only a few coins per plant. Later on, it was sold more and more expensive, and this year it already costs two or three dollars to buy one. However, this kind of thing, is the goods of the proletariat, although the value is expensive - a little, there is nothing difficult to buy and sell, even if the amount of consumption may be a little less than in previous years.
Narcissus, we here, there are also called it "garlic". The reason for this is the similarity in the image of its roots, stems and leaves. When I was a child, my family's annual daffodil, are relying on our store across the street that Mr. Ye carving, - we planted daffodils here, most of it first stripped off the coat and slightly sculpted, and then put into the water bowl to nourish. When it is about to blossom, it is then transferred to a porcelain vase with water and white stones. There are some who plant it in a pot of black clay, and never change it again until it has blossomed. But this is a rare exception. In the past three years, this has not been the case. We planted more than two or three daffodils, and the one who did the carving was no longer Mr. Ye, the famous daffodil carver. My big brother, has replaced him to do this kind of work, and do better than others.
My elder brother, I think he is indeed very rich in artistic genius endowment. For he never failed to appreciate and judge things, whether natural or technical. Sometimes, when he happened to dabble with his brush, he wrote a few words or drew a few flowers, and there was always a vivid and superb meaning to them. Naturally, for the reason that he lacked the cultivation of a good education when he was young and was now pressed under the burden of a hard life, he could not develop one or two of all his talents. But the strange instincts that lurked in him could be recognized in his unintentional words and strokes. The skillful carving of a daffodil, and the mood of love for it, which is very small and strange, but I can not help but think of his submerged beautiful mood, and excellent skill, can not help but be relieved!
For last year's residual wax, more than a few bursts of cold, this year's daffodils will not be able to catch up in the New Year's Day a few days open. Family members feel a little lonely. My brother's heart, think more than us depressed it.
The sky is always so gloomy and sprinkled with rain. The daffodils on the desk are full of sadness and live. The snow-white flowers, the golden calendars, and the gusts of overflowing fragrance, but long is silent.
I was bored and panicked, lifted the brush, randomly painted on the paper a seven, the last two lines of the cloud:
Peach stone garlic no news,
added to the spring sorrow in the rain.
1924.2.8, in the town of Fairview