Qingming Festival-reminiscence of childhood

Drizzle, through the delicate rain, as if you can see through the pedestrians in the street, as if "during the Qingming Festival, the drizzle is drizzling, and the pedestrians on the road are even more depressed." Yes, there are not many people on the street, sighing, it is another Qingming Festival.

I went back to my hometown. Before I opened the table, I saw that it was still dark and there were a few drops of light rain, and I went out with this weather.

In front of him was a neat row of green, covering the land in front of the old house. Grandpa said it was Mimai, and he laughed that I had never seen it before. After going down to the ground, a clear smell smelled to the nostrils, as if it splashed down on the earth from the leeway from the sky, and by the way, the fragrance hidden in the soil came out. Yes, it is true that the earth is the taste. Fold down a piece of rice wheat, the whole rice wheat is stained with spring rain, as soon as there is any movement, the water drops will roll into the leaves in the crack in the pole. Take a closer look at this rice wheat, there are six strands, they are not yet mature, green and faint. One grain after another, there is always a need to soar up to the sky. Grandpa told me that they first grow shells and then gain weight, and when they mature, they are much bigger than they are now.

In fact, as soon as I entered the path of my hometown, the first thing I noticed was not this piece of wheat green, but two tall pear trees and white flowers in Ning go's head (dialect, courtyard) in the distance. After seeing this piece of green, I can't wait to run to see this piece of white, oh no, it's snow white. It's really like "suddenly it's like a spring breeze blowing overnight, like thousands of trees and ten thousand pears are in full bloom." Standing under this piece of snow, the ground is full of petals brought down by the spring breeze, scattered and scattered. I went back to the old house and was glad to find that the loquat tree had borne fruit 14 years ago. Several loquat trees are pregnant and growing in a small piece of land. It was the loquat that my mother ate when she was pregnant with me 14 years ago. I threw it casually, but it must sprout in the place where I was thrown. They were the same age as me and grew up with me.

It was still early, and I went to the back mountain with my elder brother. This small village was built according to the mountain, but the back mountain was not one by one. I found the nearest place and went up the mountain. This is a frequent road. When I was a child, I turned the whole mountain all over, but I couldn't find any treasure. Today, I feel that the whole mountain is a treasure. It is sticking to the happiness and memories left by adventures with my friends when I was a child. Going up the mountain is still doing the same thing, taking the same road, blowing the same wind, but not the same feeling. The whole mountain is bathed in the cold spring breeze and immersed in interesting memories. Still doing seemingly childish things, picked a lot of red cuckoos, as a child, as if going up the mountain is for this piece of spring breeze and spring rain moistened red like, how time passes or so unchanged.

These plants and these mountains, keep my memories intact, touch the air, touch the wind, see them as if to open the memory, that old door.