Landscape poetry, elegant prose of flower lovers

After a rain, I drove away the heat that lasted for many days in midsummer and quietly went to the park. Many flowers in Wei Zi fluttered in the wind. Fell on the lush grass, and there were crystal raindrops hanging from the grass tips.

I sat on the stone bench and watched Ziwei fly quietly. My eyes drifted away with the dancing spots, and my thoughts began to drift and spread along the texture of memory. Those once "flowers" jumped out and shocked people, just like those flying crape myrtle.

[Bai Lianhua]

As for flowers, I only love white. As for white, I only like snow lotus. Lotus has always played an irreplaceable role in my heart.

When I was a child, I spent a lot of carefree time with the lotus pond near the town. Although those years are gone forever, they will always be engraved in my mind, shining with the light of the past and emitting the elegant fragrance of lotus flowers.

In junior high school, I liked classical Chinese very much. Zhou Dunyi, a scholar in the Northern Song Dynasty, has been able to recite the book "Love Lotus" completely until now, perhaps because of his love for Lotus, perhaps because of the past in those years.

Our Chinese teacher is a very kind person. He was not married when he taught our class. He often likes pacing back and forth in the empty column between groups in the classroom and reading articles with a magnetic voice. I often take my composition as a model essay and recite it in class.

Perhaps because of his vivid teaching methods, my Chinese performance has always been among the best in school. Moreover, I have a super memory, and I can always recite those articles quickly and understand them.

I remember that on the day from the text to "Ailien Shuo", he asked me to stand up and read the article by name. So, I stood up and read it smoothly. He could feel that I had prepared the lesson and asked, can you recite it? I said, yes. He smiled and nodded, and then said to the class, learn from me.

I remember at that time, the leaves of the phoenix tree outside the window were very green. ...

I haven't seen a junior high school teacher since I graduated from junior high school. I only vaguely know some news about him: I got married, gave birth to a daughter, and still teach Chinese in that school. ...

Last summer, I chatted with a junior high school classmate on the Internet. She talked about the teacher. And said, the teacher is in our classmates now, do you want to add him?

I didn't add it, but I followed the group into his space.

Message: Teacher, you are still the same as before. Wish you a happy life. -Summer.

The next day, the teacher replied: I still remember you, the girl who is good at reciting classical Chinese and writing articles. ...

Lotus, like some emotions in dust life, is spotless. Even after years of relentless erosion, it still maintains its truest appearance. "Mud never sticks, ripples are clear but not evil", a famous saying often mentioned by the teacher at the beginning, which I will remember for life. ...

[Narcissus]

Since 12 years old, a narcissus has been raised in early winter every year. Up to now, 15 years have passed without interruption.

I like Turkish daffodil: Please don't forget me. I also like the flower language of Chinese daffodils: I miss you.

/kloc-When she was 0/6 years old, she wrote a novel called Burning Heart. The heroine in the article is called "Yu Linglong", which is actually another name for narcissus, just like "Ling Boxian".

I clearly remember that winter when I was reading under the lamp and my daffodils were in full bloom. I looked at it stupefied and smiled slowly. The elegant fragrance spread instantly, and I was a little intoxicated.

So, I picked up a pen, unfolded a piece of paper and wrote "burning heart". After writing, the eastern sky has just turned white.

"Burning Heart" later became type. When I was reading, I seemed to smell the fragrance of daffodils in the ink, which was faint but far away.

When he was in love, he also saw the article "Burning Heart". He asked me, is that girl named "Yu Linglong" your prototype? I said, no. But I am as crazy about daffodils as Yu Linglong.

Since then, every year in late autumn, he will buy a newly sprouted narcissus as a gift before my birthday.

He once said: when the mulberry leaves are twilight, live by the mountain river and plant a yard of daffodils. I will sit by and watch you in the daffodils and laugh with them.

I take this sentence as the most beautiful love oath in the world.

Between us, there is no way to doubt the mountains and rivers, and there is another village with a bright future, which is most afraid of severe winter. The cold Han Xiao easily erodes my sentimental heart, and people seem to become thin and indifferent.

Every quiet night, sitting late at night, counting colorful thoughts. Narcissus's exquisite figure, gentle smile and elegant wheatgrass gave me a lot of spiritual comfort in the lonely and deep night.

So relieved, as long as the hearts are together, how about across the vast dust and smoke, how about across the ends of the earth, just like the flower language of narcissus: miss you.

Narcissus, like some emotions in dust life, is not bound by time and space, and people are in the end of the world, missing; Across the street, I will still miss you. "Not all the silt invaded Su Hao, only the wind showed its beauty." I still remember this famous sentence in Narcissus by Liu Kezhuang in Song Dynasty. Yes, that kind of emotion also conveys the feeling that we are traveling through time and space with a heart in the dust. ...

[Orchid]

I like the way orchids "look at it for a while, and the leaves are appreciated all year round", and I prefer the four cleanness of orchids: clear air, clear color, clear air and clear rhyme. Among the kinds of orchids, I have always liked Chunlan and Sanlerui Butterfly.

When I first started chatting online, I never added strangers as friends. I think it's a boring way for two strangers to get together and say something irrelevant across the virtual network.

My first netizen's name is Sanle Ruidie.

On that day, I typed an article in QQ space that I liked for 10 years, and posted it word for word in my diary. Soon, a man named "Sanle Ruidie" commented: You like ten years of articles, and so do I. A person who likes an article for so many years is also a person who loves words.

He sent me a friend invitation, so I clicked the "accept invitation" button.

Fortunately, he is a very special and kind big brother. Although there are few chats between us, they are all warm. He often reads what I write and gives some encouragement and suggestions. One day, he wrote an article called "Orchids by the River" and told me that it was addressed to me. There is a saying that I like very much: some people, who are in the world of mortals and whose hearts are outside the dust, are like an orchid blooming by a stream, far from the noise and charm, blooming with an unparalleled beauty.

He raised many kinds of orchids: cymbidium, cymbidium, Phalaenopsis and rare clover butterfly.

I like orchids under his influence. When the orchid is in bloom, he will take some photos and send them to me for appreciation. I looked at them as if I smelled the fragrance of orchids.

Later, I also raised an orchid, carefully covered the soil with moss and put it indoors, revealing elegance.

Lan, like some people in the world, has a unique character of Lan, opposing openness and death, but dedicating her elegance to time and others. ...

[green radish]

Green radish, an evergreen vine.

There is a pot of green radish that accompanied me through the cycle of three seasons. Put it on the windowsill and enjoy the sunshine through the curtains. Its vitality is extremely strong and it is green. I like to dip cotton cloth in water and gently wipe the floating dust on its leaves in some leisure time.

Later, some of my girls lived next door. They often come to see my flowers and plants, with beautiful smiles on their faces. I seem to be touched, as if I met a bosom friend.

Later, I cut some green carrots, trimmed them, put them in a glass filled with clear water and gave them to three girls. The girls were very happy and put them carefully by the window.

Later, the green radish in those glasses gave birth to white roots and new leaves, and the vines became longer and longer. They were dragged down from the windowsill and reflected on the snow-white wall, like a flowing painting of life.

The girls are very concerned about the green radish and love it. Like me, they wipe the dust off the leaves.

The flower language of green radish is: watch for happiness.

I see happiness in their faces. I also know that happiness needs sharing.

Later, when I left the city, I gave those girls a lot of things, including the pot of green radish. They said they would take good care of Laura, just like me. I smiled and said, ok.

A few days ago, I chatted with one of the girls.

She said: Sister, the green radish is still flourishing. We also cut some for others. They all grow well in glass bottles.

She also said: Sister, I have to go too. The green radish will be passed down all the time. As you said, happiness needs to be shared.

Green radish, like happiness and happiness in life, is enjoyed by one person, shared by two people and enjoyed by many people. When happiness and happiness are passed on, they will also bloom in their own hearts. ...

[pity]

In that city, there is a moat separating the beautiful city, and the flowing river meanders to the distance. I often take a walk on both sides of the river. Those wooden corridors, cobblestone paths and stone bridges have unparalleled beauty in my eyes. Later, many tall buildings stood on both sides of the river, and those beautiful scenery gradually became strange to me.

Later, I fell in love with gardening, also on the other side of the river.

On a faint autumn night, it was raining lightly. I met a petite green plant in the garden house. Dark green leaves, only two new leaves in the middle are tender green, and there is a rhizome in the middle, which is bound to bloom. Just standing in a transparent glass bottle, the roots that look like grandpa's beard also form a plain painting in the clear water.

During that time, I was obsessed with petite potted plants, so I bought them, together with the thin-necked glass bottle.

Someone asked me what the name of this lovely plant was. I looked at him, but I didn't know how to answer. In fact, I really don't know the name of that petite plant.

I put it on my desk. I put it with the pen container, so every night when I am coding words, I can look up and see it, as quiet as I am.

Time passed slowly and became bigger until a white flower appeared in the center, shaped like a calla lily. The fragrance is not much, but the petite appearance makes people feel pity.

One night, I was writing an essay, which contained such a passage: after all, she is a woman with higher sensibility than rationality, and her feelings are often influenced by a passage, a lament, a flower and a grass. Even so, being in the world and enjoying the elegant and noble scenery outside the dust is just a pity in the world.

The moment I looked up, my eyes touched the white but elegant flower, so I felt that "pity" was too suitable for it, and "pity" was more suitable for me.

A pity flower, like a quiet state of mind, does not need to be publicized or eye-catching, so quietly, quietly telling its own story to the years. ...

Flowers, there are many, Milan, jasmine, gardenia and so on. These flowers have been with me, or are with me, and have experienced many changes in the world of mortals and the cycle of seasons. Let me realize the true meaning of life, and let my mind gradually become clear and distant. ...