The prose style blowing through the village

Fierce words are quarrels between the wind and the wind, and the smell of cattle and sheep feces is mixed among them, which seems to be an earth-shattering story. The wind blew in from that fork and met the wind in this bay. At the moment when Tao and Tao Dou didn't want to give way, they were like a youthful young man, grabbing a fist from the grass and rushing to the village.

I don't know whose door opened, but the wind pushed it away and slammed the door leaf unceremoniously. In the voice of "squeaking", it was a hurried spring. It is the wind that awakens the seeds' sleep. In the early morning before the snowflake withered, it hung a hot heart on the window, poured a smile into the blue sky and the clouds drifted away.

It's the wind. When I walked through the hills, I found that the life of the grass began to sprout, sprouting a light yellow in spring. At this time, the wind is not visiting relatives and friends, but squeezing into the mountain village and enthusiastically letting people unload their winter clothes. The wind began to lose weight in the bloated winter in the mountain village, which made the earth surge in a beautiful posture and radiated the unrestrained after repression.

It seems that overnight, the wind changed. Obviously, yesterday was a dignified face, cold and hard, which made people cringe and unhurriedly avoid it. However, one night, when I woke up, the wind became a little sister next door, warm and bright, jumping happily all the way to meet passers-by, and everywhere I went was happy.

The "wind" is free and easy, and the clouds travel everywhere. Wherever you pass, the "wind" scene is infinite. The "wind" in the mountain village is colorful and interesting, depending on the situation.

The spring breeze in February is like scissors. Under the spring breeze, the willow leaves are new, light yellow and green, and the green fog is lush; Breeze Xu Lai, willows, seems to be integrated with tourists. "I left yesterday, willow, a.. I think about it today, it's raining. " Since the Book of Songs, "Willow Yiyi" has become a landscape symbol with rich traditional culture in China.

The scenery of "wind" blowing willows can also be analogized to derive more beautiful scenery. Breeze Xu Lai, catkins flying snow, is another manifestation of the "willow" landscape. Catkin fluttering, dazzling, causing endless spring worries!

The spring breeze in the mountain village is not Bai Juyi's "wind", but a kind of fragrance. It comes with the wind, and the bearer seems to have an elegant fragrance, which is refreshing.

The wind in the village can't name his parents, but he knows every family, everyone and every road into the village. I am more familiar with every hill, gully and stream. I run a few laps with the melting stream every day and watch catkins fly.

Childhood spring is also such a gentle wind, through the high and low eaves, through the sleeping earth, singing all the way into the village. You see, green shoots are sprouting on the bare branches, the leaves are getting greener every day, and the grass on the ground is getting longer every day. I always can't wait to take off my stupid cotton-padded clothes, regardless of my mother's obstruction, running in the fields with my friends in the breeze, looking for a kind of grass called "leaving a mouth" It is a kind of grass with curly leaves and yellow flowers. Pull out the white rhizome, peel off the skin and chew some sweet juice in your mouth. Looking back and forth in the wind. Tired of running, I sat on the hillside and the wind was blowing gently. In my hand, I chewed one by one. What condenses on the tip of the tongue is as tempting as candy, and even the wind is full of sweetness.

Speaking of fleeting time, I will never run in the spring breeze again. In a certain corner of the city, the gyro-like days make my perception of seasonal changes more and more dull and fuzzy. No longer pay attention to the germination and growth of a grass, no longer rejoice at the opening of a flower, and the complicated and trivial life easily keeps me out of the season.

However, all the beauty that belongs to spring is deeply hidden in my heart. When the spring breeze rises overnight, it will bloom in unison, warm and beautiful with a vigorous posture.

The wind, blowing from spring, thins the clothes of passers-by, turns the grass green and the flowers red, making a colorful season and awakening the freedom and dreams dormant in the heart.

two

Wind is the melody of life on land? -with the smell of earth, walking on the high slopes and low valleys of the village, passing through the warm flowers of summer vegetation.

In summer, the wind is the reproduction of life and creatures, and people living in this land are dyed with this land and become a distinct birthmark and fate of the mountain village.

You were born in the country, and you know a village well. In the summer wind, it has its own smell. The smell of sheep, the smell of cattle, the warm snorting of chickens, dogs, cats and rabbits, and the foul smell of various feces can all be counted as the smell of villages. In addition, there are the fragrance of apricot blossoms and peach blossoms, the fragrance of wheat and corn, and even the warm smell of sunshine, the bitterness of hay, and the earthy smell of soil ... A village is as deep as the sea, and its smell is not single, but a variety of smells.

If it is the rainy season threatened by the wind, everything in the village naturally smells of earth. Smell the fragrance of the best soil-tidal soil, and smell the slightly astringent taste carefully.

The wind is running around, as busy as a bee. At this time, the wind will search in the soil. Searching for soil gives plants colorful life and rich breath: grass is green, flowers are fragrant, fruits are sweet, rain is wet and smoke is choking ... It enriches the village and nourishes the life of the village.

A gust of wind blew in from outside the mountain, crossed the hill and spread all the time in the village. Scrape out the labor in the village and scrape in the women outside the village; Blow the leaves and hay out of the village, and blow in things that look strange outside the village. It is the wind that connects this village with other villages, not only the crowing of chickens and dogs, but also dirt roads and women, which is more conspicuous than the fallen leaves blown by the river wind under the river embankment.

The wind always makes the mountain roads crowded with vegetation in summer, and the crowds are colorful. Once you set foot on the mountain road, your eyes are filled with many unbearable hearts, and you can't bear to be afraid of stepping on the trembling core in the wind. I can't bear to destroy the intimate relationship between bees and flowers; I can't bear to be scared by a rabbit left on the mountain road.

The wind is the fan of the mountain village in summer. Hot summer is full of passion, and the smell of sunshine is everywhere. In the heat and hissing, the breeze is the rain after a long drought. The breeze is like a jade leaf, so it is rare to visit the village incognito. Although the sun is determined to scorch the dry land, even if the seedlings die and the land cracks. Baked the village's wallet flat and the village's face yellow.

In the summer wind, people in mountain villages are looking for their own voices, their own things, even the plants I know, such as the clusters of pumpkin flowers and Luffa flowers behind the house. When spring comes, people look around at those peach and pear trees. Seen from a distance, the sky is gorgeous and no one looks at them. But in summer, it's different. Red peach blossoms and white pear blossoms have already sunk into the soil. Pumpkin and loofah flowers are like a strong man sitting on the wall, blowing its loud horn.

"The wind is still blowing, and it will blow all over your life. Many vivid and full things are constantly evaporating, leaving those trivial fragments and details that may become our precious memories. " Yan Wanlong said.

three

The cold wind carried the autumn rain and blew away the whole summer. The wind is blowing from a distance, and the leaves are falling. When the wind blows, it makes a whooshing sound.

Autumn wind, like wine, ripens all the fruits. Autumn is stronger than the field, and all the fruits are harvested by the wind in the field. Clouds in the sky wander leisurely, and the air seems to be washed, cool and fragrant. Bowling flowers are full of golden sunshine and wind, shake hands with each flower, greet each butterfly, and frogs bring wheat fragrance.

Fences, barking dogs, and courtyards are dazzling in the autumn wind. Golden rice can be seen everywhere in the village. If you can always listen to the wind at this time, the village will be lively when the wind blows. Nearby, the sound of someone turning corn, the smell of the land is clear and audible, full of music and rhythm, flat and even, like the neat old tune of antithesis, the wheat waves singing the song of the wind, rows of falling under the sickle, chirping birds, buzzing flying insects, buzzing sound in the wheat field, and river water. After several muffled thunder, the rain began to trickle down. In the gap between fences, thin vines blow out pink, blue and white horns. At night, well-known and unknown insects sang duets, duets and chorus.

There is an old voice that echoes with the underground wind. Deep in time, people in the mountain village listen and listen in the autumn night.

The autumn wind blew over the roof, making the trees under the sky tall and falling leaves all over the ground. In the autumn wind, the geese flew over the village head, and the village mouth looked up and watched, and there was great attachment in my heart. The fields are messy. In the autumn wind, a few cows and three or two sheep are sloppy and leisurely, and they are willing to eat hay in the crisp autumn.

The crops are full of cars, and the autumn wind is leading the way. The farmers pulling the cars are walking with tired steps, and the sweat on their foreheads falls into the soil. With a bang, the autumn sunshine is like a chrysanthemum, and its fragrance overflows my heart.

Standing in the wild, the wind caressed the haystacks and scattered backcountry in the village, such as the sentry guarding this peaceful and quiet village, in the moonlight and clear wind.

In the withered grass shaken by the autumn wind, there are insects chirping carefully, like rickety lamps and cigarettes. Enough paper in the gale, as well as farmers with sickles, are hunting and swaying as scheduled, and the earth stretches, determined to win.

After the wind passed, the autumn rain stopped, and a group of sparrows rushed to the field after infatuation, and the sound of "wow" dispersed. It is cool in autumn, but the wild chrysanthemum is full of ambition, which euphemistically turns into an elegant fragrance and is inserted in the hair of the village girl. The autumn wind at this time is like a folk song, humming year after year.

Autumn wind blows, the blade of sickle begins to dull in the village, the land is immersed in farming, and cows ruminate in the shed: in the hot years, under the sonorous whip shadow, there are deep and endless shouts.

four

The winter wind is a naughty boy who loves to whistle. It blows east and west for a while, and it will become active wherever it goes.

Winter wind, especially like to play jokes on people. Children are particularly afraid of the cold. In winter, he drilled into the stove at home, but the winter wind dared not hit his window, urging him to play games and have snowball fights outside. The children came to the yard and played snowballs with their little sisters and big sisters, but the winter wind rubbed their faces playfully and wiped their little noses red.

Birds stand on trees and hold winter concerts. The winter wind is like an arrogant pianist, accompanying birds.

The winter night covered the mountain village with a mysterious canopy. The winter wind is like a storyteller, telling ancient legends to little brown bears, little goats, little white rabbits and birds.

Woo-hoo-

Every night, the winter wind speaks like this. In the winter wind, there are endless stories in my stomach. Until the next spring, the ice and snow melted and the frozen soil loosened.

The winter wind bid farewell to the little brother, sister and bird;

Goodbye-

Goodbye-

The wind in winter is hard wind, but this kind of hard wind turns soft-after blowing on people's faces, it will easily get into people's necks and quickly get into people's collars like thieves; Another wind, at the same time, will crawl into people's armpits from the wide cuffs like a cold squirrel, making people feel cold in the chest and back, and they can't help but speed up their steps and go to the sun for a while.

The north wind blows and the hut is broken. This is the village many years ago. It was torn and growled by the wind, tearing at my childhood. I waddled through the ravines in the mountain village, afraid to look back. Behind us are stormy years, bitterness and poverty. I only remember grandpa singing "the north wind blows, and the snow in the wind." As a result, layers of snow fell and covered his temples. Grandma said, "The wind is always in the opposite direction. Shake hands with your youth and say goodbye." Villagers from village to village, one after another, are shouting: Winter wind is tight, winter wind is tight, and snow dances cover Chai Men in a hurry.

Go my way, the wind blows to the north, snowy days, bury the past, I won't, won't fall into winter loneliness. When the wind blows to the north, there will be annual rings covered with leaves. A few stray ants meet in winter, and their tentacles are extending to the north. Maybe the direction of the nest is full of fruits.

The wind blows in the mountain village in winter, but the snow illuminates the lost people. At this time, cracks will climb deep into the earth, releasing the youth of ancient souls submerged in flying snow.