The peach blossom
As soon as I entered the mountain ditch, I saw the peach blossom.
The Peach Blossom is blooming brightly, like fire and also like Xia.
Still in that place, on the familiar hillside, it was still so delicate and affectionate.
In fact, that is not one. If you look at it, it is three. However, I always think it is one, and I look at it every year, which is the only striking brilliance in the mountain.
I seem to remember that there were two trees last year. Maybe the one which was a little far away was newly grown. I am not sure. If it is, it has grown so high inadvertently.
Around the peach tree, there are birch oak trees and persimmon trees, which are not high, and there are wild rose trees and various weeds, which I know.
I also know that in the flat ground below the peach tree hillside, there was originally a temple, which was only three or four houses with concrete walls and tiles. The Meeting was held on lunar July 12 every year, and it was crowded with people. The usual secluded small gully, there is even a small stall selling food. I know that every lunar January 1, my father will burn incense and set off firecrackers at the gate of the temple to thank the gods for their blessing to our family.
I also know that not far from the peach tree hillside, on the road of Panshan, my father and I used to pick wheat with hanger, all wet with sweat. My father’s waist hurts, and he gritted his teeth and insisted.
I also know that there are narrow curved paths on the top of Panshan Road. From there, we drove the cattle to the slope to eat grass. I was on holiday, usually my mother, father when it rains.
However, it is gone now. They wanted to mine. My Dream Village was gone, the temple was gone, people’s laughter was gone, and the cow’s Moo was gone, that was the path, also buried by quicksand, buried by years, only to see the vague past.
In the forest on the mountain, leaves are blooming, goose yellow, light green or light white, vibrant and clear, but they no longer belong to us and already belong to nature. Although I know, there are dark red cloth cloth flowers, purple Bunge Corydalis herb, and Wild Rose Bud, which tastes astringent and sweet.
There must be few people coming. The Wormwood on the road is taller than people. The small trees also stand in groups to the middle of the road, and the roots or vines trip my feet. All kinds of small flowers and delicate white Artemisia are also scattered all over like stars in the sky or men on a chessboard on the road.
I only come here twice a year to my father’s grave!
The sky is clear and the woods are clear. I looked at the Woods with tears. It was the place where my father left us suddenly. He was still working for us at the last second of his life. Father who suffered from hardships and hardships!
Fifteen years have passed, and things are not human. Without my father’s shelter, my beloved wife left me forever three years ago. In this world, there is no mountain to rely on, no warm embrace, only this residual life, lonely and cold.
We knelt in front of my father’s grave. The wind came from nowhere. The burning paper and money scorched my face and my waist ached faintly.
There was a lot of rain two days ago. The water passed through the pants and the knees were cold. We were silent, father was silent, the woods were silent, and the mountains were silent. We could only hear the sound of streams flowing, you can only see the smoke slowly dissipating in the air.
In recent years, many times in our small mountain village and in our home, my father talked quietly and my wife talked quietly. However, there was nothing left.
Returning to the county, there always appeared the peach blossom blooming alone, the quiet green hillside, and the place where Cuibai hid his father’s long sleep covered with grass!
April 4, 2021
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