Swallow in mouth mud essay

My relationship with Hua'er was when I was five or six years old. It was not long after I entered kindergarten, and everything around me was new and unfamiliar to me. The teacher's handsomeness and sweetness, the blackboard on the wall, the teapots sitting in rows on the windowsill, the benches of various heights and shapes brought by the children from their own homes, and the square handkerchiefs all made me laugh. My black eyes rolled back and forth. Especially the handkerchief with the magpie and light pink plum blossoms printed on it. It is really a treasure, so I always hold it on my fingertips and put it in my pocket. It is a pure and simple happiness that comes from the heart. But it was this little handkerchief that made me understand the unfairness for the first time in my life, and also allowed me to enter Hua'er's life.

A boy, a naughty little boy, for some reason ripped away the handkerchief I was playing with and threw it into the air. The small handkerchief twirled around my head and then fell to the ground. The boy then stepped on it hard with his foot. How can this be done! I was stunned for only half an hour, like a newborn calf, I raised my little palm and rushed forward, but my strength was too weak, the boy only staggered, and my beloved handkerchief was still lying at his feet. My move gave the boy more reasons to take action. He raised his chubby fist and hit my head hard, pulling my hair. The boy's "heroic spirit" immediately attracted a few followers, who stood aside and shook their fists to cheer him on. It was the first time I saw such a tough scene. I wanted to cry. I didn't know whether it was pain, fear or grievance. The teacher is not here and there is no one to protect me. I just tried my best to choke my tears, picked up my schoolbag and rushed out of the classroom made of thatched cottage. Not daring to go home, he secretly hid in the yard behind his house.

The yard is large and full of trees. There are jujube trees, apricot trees, toon trees, and more sycamore trees. The leaves as big as cattail fans are spread out, and tiny bits of sunlight fall through the gaps between the leaves. On the south side of the yard, against the corner, there are several weed-like plants growing, like leeks. The slender leaves are branched, staggered and crowded with green, fighting for every drop of sunshine. Small purple flowers are picked out from the thin flower stalks, and they are looking forward to the wind. They are charming, soft and refined. There are white butterflies flying freely among the flowers and leaves, adding a bit of liveliness and vitality. Such clear beauty made me forget everything for a while, and my heart quickly became clear like the sky in June. After a while, my palms were filled with these fragile purple flowers. Either insert it in the ear, hold it in your mouth, put it on the tip of your nose, or count her petals one by one in ecstasy, staring at the bright yellow heart in a daze. The flowers with their faint fragrance just drove away time and my pain. Let me have a lot of fun alone, in the process of skipping school.

I later learned the name of the flower from my sister - Ma Linhua. This little purple color has a common name, but it gave me the purest happiness at an ignorant age. The word "hua'er" was deeply rooted in her young mind, and she developed a special feeling of dependence on them, which has been out of control ever since. Whenever I skip school or on Sundays, the most boring days, the beautiful names of various beautiful flowers in the fields quietly come into my sight. The bowls of flowers on the roadside, shepherd's purse, bitter cauliflower, mother-in-law flowers, sophora flowers on a tree in April, jujube flowers in June, and pomegranate flowers have all become my best playmates. As long as I can pick them, I will put them in my pocket, put them in my schoolbag, take them home, put them in a vase with water, and watch them slowly turn yellow and shrink day by day. At this moment, there is a simple sense of satisfaction in the young mind. But a chance encounter later made me truly understand the concept of flowers.

One day, my playmate Linger from the alley next door took me to her vegetable garden. Maybe there is a special sensitivity to flowers in the blood. The moment I stepped into the garden gate, several bowl-sized flowers suddenly jumped into my eyes. Bright bright yellow, brilliant and dazzling! The clear white snow is clean and refreshing! The enchanting petals are curled or stretched, open and soft, like a bride to be married, shy and beautiful. The blossoming flowers faced the sunshine with shy faces, nodding tremblingly in the breeze, smiling reservedly. Like Columbus discovered the New World! I quickly ran over with my calves flying backwards. He knelt down and poked his head towards them. The nose is almost resting on the flower. Fragrant, tangy, fragrant and clear herbal smell, tempting my nostrils to twitch. This time, my little hands were very disciplined and I didn’t have any energy to climb.

"What is this?" I widened my eyes in surprise. "Chrysanthemum, my father told me." Ling'er also came closer, with a proud look on her face. chrysanthemum? This is the first time I heard such an elegant name.

In my childhood memories, few people raised flowers and vegetables at home. There are free-range chickens, ducks, geese and rabbits in every yard. The large yard is their paradise, and their feces are scattered everywhere on the ground. Even if a little bit of green pops up unexpectedly in any corner of the yard, it will be snatched and pecked by these little animals. At that time, growing flowers and grass was considered frivolous and unrealistic in people's minds. The real "flowers" are not seen, and the "chrysanthemum" is never heard of. "I want it too". His mouth was slurping, his eyes were full of anticipation mixed with a hint of shyness, and he had no intention of picking flowers at all. "I won't give it to you, it's my father's treasure." Ling'er rolled her eyes at me, turned away and jumped away. I never thought I would be rejected by Ling'er. My mood at that time was like a rising flame suddenly hit by a cold rain, full of disappointment and loss. That eager longing has been entangled and torn in my heart for many days. So later on, on the way to and from school, or when playing, I would never forget to turn to the vegetable yard of Ling'er's house and peek through the crack in the door to take a look. Needless to say, I am greedy.

Slowly, as I grew up, Hua got to know a lot. Gardenias, rhododendrons, clivias, crabapples and other flowers can be bought home if you like them. Place it on the bedside or on the window sill, watching eagerly. The fullness in my heart cannot be described with the word happiness. But for some reason, the flowers in my hands never last long. They will become exhausted or even die within a few days. Only a handful of them survive. I asked my mother what was going on, and she told me that flowers have spirituality. Although they cannot speak, they can communicate with people. What is spirituality? How come it looks good in other people’s hands but becomes like this in my hands? At that time, I seemed to be so young that I only knew how to rely on my own preferences and the evaporation of youthful enthusiasm and vitality to blindly treat those I loved, caring for them or being attentive. But I never calmed down enough to really get into their hearts and understand their inner qualities and needs.

I heard others say that flowers are afraid of thirst and waterlogging, so they would water them and bask in the sun every two days. I also heard that some flowers like shade and some like sun, so I followed my instructions non-stop, moved the shade to them, and took care of them every day, but in the end, they still didn't take into account my sympathy and love, and withered one after another. I have been growing flowers like this for several years. Buy it if you like it, and it will be gone within a few months of buying it. This situation breaks my heart greatly.

I have made up my mind again and again to stop growing flowers, but I always feel itchy and unbearable. What finally made me give up was a pot of asparagus. I really like asparagus because of its graceful and graceful appearance. From a distance, it looks like a welcoming pine tree on a cliff. Up close, it is elegant and natural, peaceful and harmonious. So the mentality towards her is different from ordinary flowers and plants. Very cherished. The first moment I open my eyes every day, I see her. The first thing after getting up is to test the dryness and wetness of the pot soil with your hands. If it is slightly dry, water it immediately. I heard people say that asparagus likes shade, and they will immediately place it in a place where the sun does not shine. Move it around with the movement of the sun, take good care of it, loosen the soil, weed and fertilize. But in the end she couldn't escape her fate. As the days go by, she slowly turns yellow, slowly drops her leaves, and slowly dries up completely. The heartache once again attacked my nerves, as if my heart had been removed. No more flowers, no more flowers. The moment he made the firm decision to bury her. Rather than letting them die in my hands, it is better to let them live and grow well in the hands of others. Perhaps we can still live with unprecedented exuberance, live with a hundred years of vitality, and live with dazzling astonishment. This choice is probably also a different kind of compassion and love. I made up my mind, and from then on for many years I only looked at the flowers without buying them. Even if you spend a lot of time in front of the flower stall in your busy schedule, you will never get involved.

Unexpectedly, after many years of marriage, my deceased father-in-law left behind three treasures - one was a nearly century-old holly named Xuelihong. One is a wintersweet tree that is more than thirty years old. There is also the tree planted in a flower pot to welcome the spring. The first two treasures are standing in front of the old house, one on the left and one on the right. The roots of the tree have been deeply rooted in the soil for many years. Whether it is spring, summer, autumn or winter, they both use the sky as their cover and the earth as their bed, breathing in the earth's atmosphere. Summer is full of spirit. Winter is so skinny. It's like the flower god from the sky comes to the world to protect Chunxin and spread vitality.

Whenever winter comes, the holly trees are covered with red seeds, like red beans and cinnabar moles. Especially when it snows, white snow flakes cover it, and bits of red are exposed here and there, which is particularly cold and eye-catching. Your heart will suddenly shake and your spirit will be awakened. As for wintersweet, it will spit out goose-yellow and elegant stamens around the Lantern Festival, and the petals will be transparent and shiny. The aroma is overflowing, and the light and sweet air floats into every corner of the village. It's true that "the jasper branches are naturally thin, and the golden buds are particularly fragrant". Against the background of the messy flying snow, the blending of scenes is even more special. Come next summer, the lush branches and leaves of the two trees will cover the windows. Facing the passing cool breeze and fluttering insects and butterflies, it feels pure and cool, like a corner of paradise, isolated from the dust of the world.

My mother-in-law wanted to saw it off several times because they blocked the light from the windows. Every time I hear my mother-in-law mention this, I always feel very sad. Then I remembered what my mother said, the spirituality of flowers is connected with people. When the flowers are prosperous, the family will be prosperous, and people will be alive. Since these two trees have experienced so many years of wind, frost, snow and rain, they are still standing here, still lush and green. This is indeed a pleasant providence. So I told my mother-in-law these words in detail. The old man was a bit superstitious and was really reluctant to give up. I won’t mention it again. When spring comes to my house, these two trees seem to understand people's thoughts, see the strong wind, and their branches and leaves are whirling like sweet rain. This is exactly what I want.

The most difficult thing is the winter jasmine planted in the flower pot. Being unfamiliar with her habits and having learned from past experiences, I kept her in the room very carefully. I didn't dare to slack off in watering, fertilizing, and loosening the soil, for fear that if I missed it in the blink of an eye, she would be ruined again. Hard work pays off. One year, she gave me one year, allowing me to see a few beautiful flowers amidst my anxiety and expectation. The delicate yellow flowers are like stars and beads, revealing the message of spring. Maybe they are infected with her anger. On the days when they bloom, I feel proud and complacent at the same time. Move her around every day and let her bask in the sun and smell the fresh air. But such days did not last long. When the fresh leaves had just emerged, she could no longer cheer up. The branches were drooping, lifeless, and the green energy was gone. Seeing that all my efforts resulted in her looking like this, my heart completely dropped. I was cruel and gave her to my sister, who likes to grow flowers just like me. Maybe she would be a different person in the hands of her sister. I had this idea at the time.

That’s really what happened. Less than a month after the winter jasmine arrived in my sister's hands, new branches sprouted, and the branches were lush and green. The second year after arriving at her sister's house, she climbed layers of branches in the flower pot and crocheted the branches to create a hollow natural flower basket. Such wanton growth makes the flower pot look weak and narrow, and her prosperous roots seem to burst the pot at all times. So, my sister took her out of the flower pot and transplanted it to the ground - in front of the screen wall. Unexpectedly, after transplanting like this, the winter jasmine flowers rushed up like they drank hormonal hormones. In less than two years, they had climbed up the entire wall!

Every time I go to see my sister, I see her as soon as I walk in the door. Her comfort and satisfaction are self-evident, and I am always so happy that I take a closer look at her. Look at how many new twigs she has sprouted. How many changes have taken place in the buds and leaves on the branches. But sometimes people have to believe in fate and fate. Perhaps it is God's mercy and favor that I should have such a pure spirit in my life. She is destined to belong to me. In the spring of a certain year, my sister's house was building a wing, and because the jasmine flowers were in the way, she came back to me. On a sunny evening, I welcomed her home, picked a corner that could receive more sunlight, carefully arranged a small flower bed, and planted it. After she came back to me, I lost count of how many severe cold and heat she went through. Counting on the fingers of one hand, she seems to be in her mid-twenties now. Leaning against the sparse fence, flowers and leaves bloomed faintly, without being ostentatious or domineering. The branches are covered with small and elegant yellow flowers. It complements wintersweet and snowy red. The courtyard is full of fragrance and full of vitality.

The experience of planting flowers comes over and over again. Finally I learned a lot. The spirituality of flowers, the need of flowers, the sustenance of flowers, the spirit of flowers, and the nobility of flowerpots, the rivers and lakes in flowerpots. I also understand that human desires and needs are invisible shackles. The most important thing is simplicity. Let nature take its course.

In my mature age, I no longer deliberately buy and grow flowers, but viewing and appreciating them is still my favorite choice.

Someone once said that those who like flowers will pick them, and those who love flowers will water them. From then on, the nature of keeping flowers, plants and trees is no longer taken as one's own. As long as they can bloom brightly, charmingly and colorfully, whether by the stream, on the roadside, in the field or on the edge of the field.

Blessed things happen in the morning when the morning light is slightly rising, or in the evening when the setting sun melts gold. Lean against the sparse fence, drink the fragrance of flowers, enjoy the beauty of flowers, and follow nature.