wooden bowl 's tea aroma melted the frosting on the glass window. This is a bowl of tea that my grandfather put on the windowsill. The north wind outside is shouting, the snow flies wildly, and the fire is in the house. Firewood crackled, sowing the heat to every cold corner. Grandma sat in the kitchen and weaving a net with wooden shuttles, while young women in the family tied up their high buns with wooden combs. Dogs and chickens guard their wooden trough to eat. The dog licked the wooden trough so that it could reveal its true woody color; while the chicken pecked the long wooden trough with its sharp beak and pecked the long white hair.
At this time, I was lying in the wooden cradle, whining, and my saliva wet my neck. From time to time, I reached out to pat the side of the cradle, which was painted with the patterns of lotus and mandarin ducks. The adults went to the river to catch fish, put the caught fish in a wooden basin, and then came back to stew the soup with it, and sucked it with a wooden spoon to taste the deliciousness.
I climbed out of the wooden cradle and went on to the big kang. The edge of the kang was made of wooden. Then, I looked up at the beam on the top of my head. Then I turned around and looked at the wooden window painted with sky blue. The poor butterfly was blocked from the window and flew out, while the sunlight walked through the window with the breath of heaven and climbed up the wall through the glass.
It’s summer. I just learned to walk, and my staggered gait attracted the attention of the small animals in the yard. Every time I fall and cry, the dog will come up and lick my tears with his tongue, while the chicken will take the opportunity to peck on the soles of my shoes. The fence of the vegetable garden is as beautiful as the reflection of eyelashes. When cucumbers, cucumbers, cucumbers and beans are creeping romantically, adults will insert wooden poles on the ridge table, letting them open their mouths upwards and kiss the sky light. When the fire in the evening was rushing in the sky to the west, wooden tables and square stools were placed in the yard of every household. People sat down and ate with wooden chopsticks around the table, talking about crops and weather. When the fire burned down, the sky became dark and mosquitoes flocked to them, people put the tables and went back to the room to sleep. People saw Xiumu singing in their dreams, and pearls were shining in the wooden bowl with tea.
I saw the tree, the autumn tree. Their leaves have been dyed golden red and goose yellow by wind frost. The withered leaves were flying around, some went to the water, some ran around and returned to the tree, and some fell on top of my head, probably wanting to talk to me in my sleep on the same pillow. I understand that the wooden bowls, combs, tables and chairs, fences, cradles, etc. all come from the trees. The tree originally hid its vicissitudes deep in its heart, but in order to use its patterns, we cut it off in half and count its annual rings hypocritically to praise its selflessness.
I walked on the wooden bridge and watched the flowing water on both sides of the straits. I stood on this shore, looking at the vast other shore, and the white fog made the river feel like flying. The decaying wooden bridge gradually transformed into an algae plant, while the flowing water was still gurgling. I remembered the sound of the piano, the sound of the piano my father played during his lifetime. violin 's body is wooden, and the keys of accordion are also wooden, and they make either sad or enthusiastic sounds. How gentle the wood is, it plays the sound of time and soul with people.
We rely on the growth and rest of the wood, and also on it to travel far. The sleepers in the train lane are paved, and the boats drifting on the water are also created by it. Walking on the river on a wooden boat, the sound of oars quietly swept across the forest belt on the shore. We see the trees growing lushly, and the sunset makes it look like a magnificent temple. It has become the most charming scenery in the world without any dispute.
Human beings have gone through one era after another with wood tools. Trees are passed down from generation to generation like humans, so the age of wood will last forever. We placed the wooden chairs on the turquoise grass and took a nap in the sun. We sat in the study and took a book off the wooden shelves and read immortal poems. We inlaid the most classic paintings in wooden frames to make the painting closer to nature and perfection. We drink soup with a wooden spoon and experience the simplicity and simplicity of life. We use wooden chandeliers to shine the room, so that the drooping light brings peace and harmony.
You can listen quietly to the sound of trees growing.
Excerpted from: " Knowledge Window " 2022 Issue 6
