Ling Xiao, prose about flowers blooming deep in the soul

一

Lingxiao flower has dense dark green leaves, long and soft winding vines, and a strong character that is not afraid of the scorching sun and violent storms. It has a very long flowering period, and one inflorescence can bloom for thirty or forty days. Every year from the fifth lunar month to the end of autumn, the shelves are full of green leaves, and the flower branches are stretched out in clusters and clusters. The branches are covered with fire-like flowers, exuding fiery passion.

When I first met Lingxiaohua, I was still very young. I was working in a company, and in order to take a shortcut, I passed through an urban village. I remember it was a morning in early summer. I was riding a bicycle through the alleys, and my eyes were suddenly attracted by a beam of red light on the wall of the residential compound next to me. I stopped the car and stood under the wall to watch. These were several flowers on the same petiole. They were closely nestled together, like little trumpets with their little heads tremblingly exposed on the wall. The sunlight filtered through. Its flower pieces are as thin as cicada wings, exuding gorgeous, beautiful flowers. The next morning, a few more flowers peeked out of the courtyard wall. At this time, I saw the dark green leaves and vines climbing on the wall. They silently supported the flowers blooming on the branches. Those flowers dotted among the green branches and leaves. The flowers swayed back and forth in the breeze with the swaying vines, like small beating torches.

What kind of flower is this? I asked curiously.

The mistress of the courtyard was in her forties. She looked apologetic: I don’t know, a friend gave me a cane a few years ago, so I planted it beside the courtyard wall. I didn’t expect it to bloom this year. .

Such a beautiful flower has no name. Her answer disappointed me.

I fell in love with this kind of flower unknowingly. I will stop here every time I pass by, worried that one day it will wither and disappear. I didn’t expect them to be so tenacious. There are vines constantly climbing up the wall, carrying clusters of flowers with them. Lei, one after another, can see the blooming flowers every day. It is not until early winter that it reluctantly collects the last touch of beauty, leaving a few withered yellow vines swaying in the cold wind.

Looking forward to seeing it again next year. In the spring, the owner of the yard renovated the house, and when the workers dug the foundation for the wall, they dug it out and hauled it away along with the garbage.

I stood by the newly built courtyard wall and looked at the empty wall, thinking about the flowers blooming, and felt a little melancholy in my heart: they disappeared from my sight without even leaving their names.

二

I have nothing to do and want to visit my second sister’s house. The north-south confrontation between my family and my second sister’s family runs through the county. The county town is not big, so I took my son and rode there in ten minutes. The second sister’s daughter Jingzheng was playing with her daughter Yiyi on the roadside at the door. After Jing got married, she bought a house opposite the second sister’s house. I often joked: Jing is the permanent embassy. Seeing us coming, Yiyi happily called "little uncle" to greet us. My son is three months younger than Yiyi. There is no generational difference between children. Before Jing and I could react, the two children got together and started chattering together. Jing pursed her lips and smiled: "People in Shandong talk about warding off evil spirits. My mother was nagging you just now and you came here. She and her second aunt went to the market for a while and then came back." I am ten years older than Jing. Although we are the elders, there is no generation gap. , look more like sisters.

Jing and I walked into the yard. Before entering the house, Jing pointed to a few withered and cracked branches in the corner and said to me: "Auntie, you are really telepathic. I just wanted to give you a call." Just go and come."

"What is this?"

"The flowers are so beautiful."

Just a few withered flowers. Are branches also flowers? I disagreed: "How is it better than my wisteria?"

"It's worse than that." Jing looked unquestionable.

I casually picked up a branch and looked at it. It was as thick as my little finger, with a few thin roots, and it looked pitiful. It was hard to reject the kindness, so I said in a helpless tone: "I will plant it and try it to see how beautiful it is."

"Auntie, I'm not going to lie to you, the orange flowers The branches are full of flowers, so beautiful. I dug them from my mother-in-law's house yesterday. I know you like these branches and branches, and I want to please you." Jing said with a hint of teasing.

"What kind of flower can arouse the appreciation of my nephew? It's really rare." I seized the opportunity and immediately counterattacked.

"I asked my mother-in-law, but she didn't know that this flower has a long flowering period, from early summer to late autumn." Jing Lao answered honestly

Orange, long flowering period .

Jing's words made my heart skip a beat, reminding me of that distant memory: the soft vine holding the orange flower, could it be it?

三

"Auntie, flowers need a fulcrum." When we were leaving, Jing warned me again. She had never been worried about my careless little aunt.

When I got home, I dug a hole at the corner outside the courtyard wall, put two thin vines with cracks into the hole, watered it, and cultivated the soil. For beautifying flowers and trees that need a fulcrum, I am used to planting them outside the yard, which not only saves space in the yard, but also makes passers-by happy, killing two birds with one stone. After planting, I patted the soil on my hands and looked at my masterpiece with satisfaction: Nameless Flower, I hope you will survive and be as stunning as a wisteria.

Place it in place and then run it behind your head. But my son is more concerned about it. He goes over to see it every day and water it frequently to take care of it. One day after the Qingming Festival, I was lying in bed reading a book. Suddenly my son ran in, took my hand and walked out: "Mom, go and see, it's alive."

"What's alive?" Confused, I followed him to the cane outside the yard.

The son squatted on the ground and pointed at the root of the cane, "Mom, look, it sprouted."

I also squatted down and saw a little sprout emerging from the ground. If you didn't look carefully, you wouldn't have noticed it.

"Mom, is it alive?"

"Yes, son, thank you." I stroked my son's head and said.

"Mom, it's so small, will it grow up?" There was worry in the son's eyes.

"Yes, as long as you take good care of it, it will grow up." I smiled slightly, as if I was seeing blooming flowers, "Mom also hopes that it will grow up soon and see it bloom."

The son clapped his little hands and jumped up: "Mom, I will take good care of it. The way it blooms will definitely be more beautiful than your wisteria."

Prettier than the wisteria. Jing said so, could it be it? If it were it, my wisteria would be inferior.

The buds grew very fast and had completely grown out of the ground the next day, spreading like a green line on the ground. It grows very quickly, reaching half a meter in length in a few days, with thin, serrated leaves growing on the canes. There were two more vine buds exposed at the roots. I was thinking about using ropes to guide them to the wall, but suddenly I found that my idea was superfluous. Its branches had already clung to the bottom of the wall and started climbing. I squatted down and watched, and there were fluffy growth roots growing between the delicate armpit buds, like a gecko's feet firmly sucked on the cement wall. It raised its pointed head and looked at the high wall, trying its best to move upward. Several vines seemed to be competing, climbing rapidly, getting taller day by day. Watching the thin vines climbing up with their huge bodies, I was suddenly moved by what kind of spirit this was. It struggled out of the dark soil, defying difficulties and moving forward towards hope. In an instant, I felt moved in my heart: No matter how the flowers look like, this courageous spirit alone is enough for me to learn from.

They quickly climbed up the wall, and the vines sent out more branches. A month later, the wall was already dark green. I have forgotten the appearance of the leaves of the flower I saw back then. Regardless of whether it is it or not, I have fallen in love with this dark green. No longer expecting the flowers to bloom, this color just makes me happy. To be honest, I don’t like flowers. Although flowers are beautiful, they wither easily. When the flowers bloom, they make you feel excited. When the flowers fade, they make you extremely sad. Only this lush green color can give you a sense of stability.

After some time, I was surprised to find that clusters of buds appeared on the branches of the vines, and their round little heads swayed slightly in the breeze, as if to say: Do you know me? I was pleasantly surprised: it was them, the flowers blooming deep in my memory. I looked at them quietly, looking forward to the color that rivaled the sun

Opening the door in the morning, my eyes drifted to the west courtyard wall habitually, and a brilliance came into view: the flowers were blooming, and a Clusters of orange-red trumpets gather together, floating among the green leaves, like wind chimes on the branches, and swaying flowers jump in the sun.

I couldn’t help the joy in my heart, standing beside it and staring at it quietly: we finally met again after a long absence.

As day goes by, the vines continue to extend, covering the gray cement wall. More and more flowers bloom, and the little bits of red reflect the green green of the wall. Looking from a distance, the walls are covered with flowers. Full of red fruits. They bloomed like this, from early summer until the flowers withered, and they reluctantly left me.

I still don’t know their names, and I feel ashamed to face their enthusiasm every year. I want to look up their information, but I don’t know where to start. One day, I was wandering around the space by chance and saw a picture posted by a netizen on the space: My home’s Lingxiao flowers are in bloom. The mystery that has been puzzling for more than 20 years has been solved. It turns out that their name is so beautiful: Lingxiao flowers.

It’s the season of flowers blooming again. After a few winds and rains, the thin vines have already grown tangled roots and luxuriant branches, covering the walls. They are blooming along the cables above the walls. Looking from a distance , like a ribbon flying in the air, watching the passionate sky flowers and the sunset, I can't help but think of Cong Meng's poem:

The winter before last / When I first saw you / It was just a branch / I casually took you Buried/in the soil of the yard/last spring/I only saw you/new green sprouting from the rattan/along the corner fence/climbing tenaciously/this summer/see you again/strong stems, luxuriant leaves, and luxuriant flowers/dancing in the wind on the branches / Blossom to your heart’s content / The clusters of orange-red flowers / Like torches / ignite the passion of summer / The spreading flowers / Like the scented wind / Exaggerate the grace of summer / The flower bones / Like the sound of trumpets The exciting lala/plays/the unyielding praise of life/that flower bone flower/is like a girl’s coquettish mouth/telling/the romance of the youthful flower season/oh, Lingxiao flower/

You are stubborn by nature/are not afraid of hardships/use The spirit of perseverance / Accompanying people throughout the summer / Oh, Lingxiaohua / You don’t want anything in return / Sincere dedication / I will give you a fulcrum / You will still make the world brilliant...

　四

Her name is Qiu Yun, a woman with the maturity and grace of autumn. She and I are Internet friends and have known each other for five years. We can be regarded as Internet best friends who talk about everything. I had chatted with her about the Strange Stone Garden very early on and invited her to come to the county to stay and visit, but I never got the chance. She left a message last night: My husband and I have arrived in your county. Do you have time tomorrow? I was naturally very happy when I heard that. In the morning, her husband went to meet his business partners, and I picked up the mother and daughter at the hotel. There were many scenic spots around the county, and I didn’t know where to go for a while. The sky is full of dark clouds and it looks like it’s going to rain, so go to the Strange Stone Garden. We have the same personality and hobbies. We all like rainy days, and visiting the garden on rainy days is the most poetic. I parked the car outside the garden gate, picked up the prepared umbrella, and the three of us walked into the garden. In summer, the Strange Stone Garden is full of green, dotted with flowers, and the quiet tones add a bit of warmth. As we walked along the road in the garden, she looked at each strange and unique boulder attentively, and her natural shapes often aroused her admiration. We walked west along the road and came to the wisteria garden before we knew it. The dense branches and leaves of the wisteria held up by the white frame formed a green corridor. We walked slowly along the corridor. At this time, drizzle started to fall in the sky, and a tree beside us Clusters of blooming Lingxiao flowers look even more beautiful in the drizzle. She stopped when she saw the Ling Xiao flower and stared at Ling Xiao in the rain. I handed the open umbrella to her hand, and she took it silently, looking at the flowers with tender eyes.

“Mom, take a picture of me.” Her daughter was just five years old, with a round face, big eyes, short ear-length hair, wearing a white dress, holding a small The flower paper umbrella is jumping and standing next to the Lingxiao flower, with a smile as bright as a flower.

"Okay," the mother pointed her cell phone at her daughter, "My Lingxiao is so beautiful, more beautiful than flowers."

"Mom, what kind of flower is this?" Girl He asked innocently while looking at the flowers.

"Lingxiao flower." Mom said.

"The same name as me." The girl stared at a pair of pure eyes and asked puzzledly, "Mom, why do I have the same name as the flower?"

"Because mommy, baby My daughter is as beautiful as Lingxiao Hua," her mother said with a kind face.

"You also like Lingxiao Flower?" I couldn't help but ask while listening to the conversation between mother and daughter.

"Yes, I love Lingxiao flower, especially Lingxiao flower in the rain, which has a touch of tenderness that makes people feel distressed." Qiu Yun's eyes had a glimmer of light, "Fiery, gentle, Lingxiao flower, mother flower . ”

The flower language of mother flower and Lingxiao flower means maternal love. Qiu Yun’s words reminded me of my parents in heaven, and I couldn’t help but feel sad.

"The Lingxiao flower accompanied me through my childhood. Whenever the Lingxiao flower blooms, I think of my mother." She sighed quietly, with a touch of sadness in her eyes.

I wonder: "Don't your parents live with you?"

"I am the child of my current mother.

She saw the sympathy in my eyes, and a blush appeared on her face, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk to you about this. Maybe I have suppressed it for a long time, and I always want to talk about it." "

"Well, I feel relaxed when I say some words. "I understood the meaning of the sadness in her eyes, "Can you tell me something?

She nodded: "I am a adopted child. My adoptive parents love me very much. My neighbors have been careful to avoid this topic since I was a child. They are worried about me leaving. Where can I go?" My mother passed away, my stepfather was not good to me, and my relatives did not want me. My aunt abandoned me at the train station. When I was young, I followed the train to a rural town. My adoptive mother took me in and gave me warmth. 's home. ”

Mom, stepfather, child abandoned by relatives? Her complicated life experience made my heart live: another good article.

She floated on her face Cutting a strand of her long hair behind her ears, she looked into the misty and rainy distance and said, "I was born in a remote mountain village in a neighboring province, with a few sparse households. My house is at the front of the village, with a low stone courtyard wall, and the courtyard wall is covered with sorrel flowers. My mother said that my father dug the flowers from the mountain when they got married. I forgot what my father looked like. I only remembered that he was a primary school teacher in the village. He was tall and wore a clean, starched white shirt. My father loved me very much. He would kiss me every day when I went to school and then lift my clothes. The cloth bag of students' homework books walks out of the house. The school in the village is in the big village at the foot of the mountain. To get to the big village, you have to cross a small mountain stream more than ten meters wide. In winter, the creek dries up, and only has water during the summer flood season. In the summer when I was three years old, it rained all night, and the riverbed swelled. The usually gentle stream now looked like a giant yellow dragon, and the rapid whirlpool of the river water made people dizzy. My mother tried to persuade my father not to go to school, but my father didn't listen: it doesn't matter if I go often, there are dozens of children waiting in the classroom, and I can't delay class. My father smiled and kissed me and left. My mother took me and escorted my father out of the house, all the while watching my father's figure disappear into the forest path. "

I saw the tears in her eyes. She paused for a while and continued: "That day, my mother led me to stand by the river waiting for my father to come back. The sun went down and there was no sign of my father... The next day, my father's body was found in the grass at the confluence of the river. He was blocked by a fallen tree. Dad left, the laughter in the family disappeared, and mom looked at Ling Xiaohua and cried silently every day. To be honest, I was too young at that time, and many of my memories have become fragments. I only vaguely remember the yard full of flowers and my mother’s tearful eyes. My mother is very beautiful. After my father passed away, a few bachelors from the big village at the foot of the mountain often came to my house. My mother drove them away with a kitchen knife. I don’t know why my quiet mother became so fierce. I watched in horror as they left, and my mother hugged me and cried. Later, someone came to be a matchmaker, but my mother refused. She loved her father very much and was unwilling to leave the place where she lived with him. Later, my mother couldn't stand my grandparents' pleading. In order to avoid those men with ill intentions, she married a man with a son, and she still lived in our house after the marriage. ”