Planting flowers

Planting flowers, in the young mind, is to pinch off the flowers and bury them in the soil, water them, and wait day after day. Until the surrounding flowers are thanked, those in the soil or no movement. Later read the Dream of the Red Chamber, know that is buried flowers, carry a flower hoe, dig a pit, sweeping out the red buried flowers soul. So much so that later in the network, do not forget to use the time of the falling flowers as a network nickname.

　　The South Garden is planted with mud, and the peach season in March calls for the soul to come. I have nothing to do but to look at it several times, and my heart smells like a petal that blooms near the willow.

　　The flower words in the rain to the wind chanting, temples as white as dyed cherish flowers spring. The river and the sea have been inhabited for dozens of years, but it is difficult to send a flower grower.

　　There are flowers newly planted, waiting for spring to come. The spring flowers are blooming and waiting for friends to come. The time has changed, those who are waiting for flowers to enjoy the moon time has quietly gone; the earth's fragrance is not waiting, it will allow the wind to spread fragrance for a long time. In addition, the southern swallows return in spring to cut the new willow, and the gadfly warbler is full of flowers. Even if the title is under the peach tree, it is difficult to reward the shyness of the red fragrance of the eyebrows.

　　The first thing that I want to do is to be a guest of the people, and I don't want to ask about the old poems and new songs. Now that I am away, I would like to listen to a soft song and plant flowers in my hometown's south garden. The mud wall is half blocked, holding the vines outside the eaves window, the wind and leaves whispering shallow singing, whispering in the years, chanting in time. The world's glory and shame are passing with the flow, not only for the burial of flowers and sighs.

　　The half-white and unwritten gossip for most of the day, can not say that the heart planted flowers buried feelings. A mention of planting flowers, the heart will float up a clear and quiet flow, light, sweet, sweet, like a dogwood in the heart floating get, brush you itchy can not help themselves.

　　Now that I think about it, the heart also beautifully went to the hometown garden of that flower meadow, it is too beautiful, often one will squat in those blooming flowers side out of mind. I remember very clearly how many petals a peony or a peony flower has. Still remember, no one will be buried in the soil when the petals fall, morning and evening to wait for the ground is not to see the growth of new flowers to ignorance. It is said that the flowers bloom and the fruits bear fruit! I'm sure I've seen those leftover peach kernels grow out of new seedlings, these secrets dare not ask people, only buried in the heart. I have nothing to do, my mother said your father saw you love flowers so much, worry that you will not be able to become a great weapon, will not be able to pectinate the wind and rain. The rain and the wind need to have the courage to defy the odds. I was worried that the flowers were wilting, so should I stop here and stop looking at flowers.

　　I don't want to be fascinated by the flowers, I don't want to shed tears for the fading. The first thing you need to do is to get a good idea of what you want to do. The moonlight shines on the windowsill at midnight, and the beauty of a sea of flowers in the haze fascinates me, and I can't believe I sighed in my sleep. It seems that I heard my mother saying that the child has grown up and there is a sigh in his dream.

　　I finally remembered that it was a season of spring flowers, and there was more fragrant fragrance in the emerald color outside the window. My grandmother asked my second uncle to pick us up and take us to the greenery, there was no transportation, afraid that I could not walk on the road, my mother found a basket for me to sit in, and said that I was about the same weight as a pumpkin, and the other end hung a pumpkin to make a pair. But I am still heavier than the pumpkin, tired of the second uncle sweat. Very interesting trip, sitting in a wobbly bamboo basket, along the telephone line along the undulating terrain winding forward, from time to time there are dazzling spring flowers flashing past, dazed I dreamed of planting flowers again. It was a kind of young dream, a vague disappointment like a butterfly fluttering in the brain. In the empty, misty world, there was a sea of flowers floating in front of my eyes. In the haze, I planted the flowers blooming, think of spring, red, white, yellow layers, green all over the field. The unrestrained thoughts of childhood, let the dream linger among the flowers, it seems I have understood the meaning of having the heart to plant flowers not to send, and do not care that the lovers of flowers must necessarily regard the honor and disgrace as a matter of chance.

　　The sun is rising, and the stone slabs on the patio of my grandmother's house are clean and green. The potted flowers lined up on the stone steps on both sides of the compartment were fragrant, and through the side door of the hall was the home of my mother's uncle (second grandfather). Grandfather was an old man in the Republic of China, and after the founding of the new China, he gave up politics and became a teacher. In the sunshine, grandparents take advantage of the sunny weather and bright sunshine to loosen the soil and fertilize the flowers and plants. There were many small cloth bags filled with seeds on the wooden pavilion under the porch, but I didn't know that they contained seeds. Grandmother saw me lost in thought, so she said come over and I'll teach you how to grow flowers. So I learned that flowers are made from seeds that are buried in the soil, waiting to germinate, and then grow leaves until they are watered and fertilized to slowly grow into lush flowers and plants. With the experience of planting flowers and grass, when I followed my mother and aunts to the greenery, I had a different feeling when I went to see the flowers and grasses in the wild. It turns out that the process of life is not so simple, even in the short life of flowers and plants, there are also planters to give their emotions and efforts to keep them alive and vigorous.

　　The time is old before the old man, sometimes in the moonlight to write a pen to write a thought, do not know what to write, what to send; years of the flower shadow, there is a gentle fragrance, there are tears and feelings. The corner of the sea of the heart, there is laughter, there is confusion, there are petals full of fragrant sea. The river of the years, the other side of the sea of flowers has a real smile and joy. I don't believe my heart is so soft, after so many years, certain losses, memories and regrets will still flutter like butterflies in the sea of flowers.

　　There are flowers in other places, and the flowers of today or tomorrow are still blooming quietly, but there is no planted flower festival in life. When you go to a small town in the south, it is a typical flower market, full of flowers so you can't identify how many varieties there are. There were more flower sellers than flower watchers, and I was the only flower watcher who didn't buy flowers. I stayed at a hotel called Ruanhuaxi, where I could see a flower garden outside my balcony, with bright yellow spring flowers, red roses, and the sweet fragrance of purple clouds and spring roses. Those white colors and pink fragrance is like the entrance of a dream, let me walk into the fresh and warm past, into the sea of flowers and fields, into the flowers and willow wind in March.

　　Planting flowers, originally a hobby, planted a flower, let you into the beauty, into the dream. The good things in life generally have more trials and tribulations. Planting flowers and plants, there is no hobby what you like, or what you like, it is just a life and beauty of the process of continuation. This year thanks to the planting tomorrow, stunning flowers, accumulating beautiful colors, looking for the meaning of the youthful years. It is also possible that you have made an effort and have not been able to receive the return of the fragrance of flowers. However, the process of planting flowers can make you nostalgic for the past, nostalgic for those times when flowers were flying.

　　It is better to plant flowers all over the field than to plant a nest of thorns. Planting flowers can produce beauty and good, so planting flowers and planting thorns form a stark contrast in life. The flowers planted in the years are like the happiness planted in the heartland. When you think about those years, it seems to be that drunk and lost in time.

　　The time of the fallen flowers, we do not have a chance to plant flowers, only to let the heart into the sea of flowers. In the years like a stream, let people remember those days when the breeze was light. The ground is full of flowers and the sky is full of flowers. The sunshine bright world shines with colorful rhymes, the flowers are as beautiful as a beautiful woman. When the spring flowers bloom again, a soft attachment arises in my heart.

　　At dusk, I walked under the street lights, there seemed to be shadows of lilacs and roses falling down, and my thoughts went back in those distant cities and villages. The notes that are entwined in the softness of the fragrance of the flowers are suddenly far and near, seemingly touchable, seemingly smellable, and seemingly reminiscent of the warmth of the shooting stars passing by.