Spring of Viola yedoensis (Ⅱ)

? When I was a child, winter was always very long, which made people wonder whether spring would come again.

If we look for spring from ancient poems, it is really everywhere, and almost all of them are written in Jiangnan: "Flowers are more and more beautiful, but shallow grass has no horseshoes." "The red flowers in the sunrise river win the fire, and the riverside is blue." "Thousands of miles of warblers are green, and the water town is full of wine flags." "If you have nothing to do, you will know the east wind, and it will always be spring." ..... In my association, the colorful scenery in the south of the Yangtze River is all over the mountains, overwhelming, and the spring here is really incomparable.

? Here is located in the plain, there are no mountains, only a Huan River slowly flows eastward. I don't care where it ends up, and I don't know the answer until now. The river is not wide, so you can see it at the same time. On the bank of the river is a large beach, covered with willow bushes, with many willows of different shapes, not too high and few straight. Years of wind, frost, rain and snow have given them all kinds of vicissitudes.

? It is often a "tribal tiger ..." After several strong winds, I suddenly found out inadvertently that there are small buds on the willow tree, and the branches are tender and many, and the willow flute can be twisted out. Then the poplar suddenly turned green, and these two trees germinated the earliest. Accidentally turned to the firewood pile, but also drilled clusters of buds, goose yellow.

Gradually, there are more wild vegetables and more flowers. It's a little reluctant to say "flowers are many" Actually, it's all a little bit. If you see a purple tung flower, it will be amazing here, but it will bloom late, basically until the end of spring. Sometimes you can see the flowers of Rehmannia glutinosa. There are many pink and purple morning glory on the upright stem, swaying on the steep soil slope or in the cracks in the stones beside the bridge. Its flowering period is relatively short, basically blooming in late spring and early summer. Only Taraxacum mongolicum and Viola yedoensis have a large number and a long flowering period. Dandelion's golden flowers, like hearty and innocent laughter, are scattered on the beach, beside ditches ... and even in ruts on the roadside. I wrote dandelion a long time ago, so I won't go into details. Viola yedoensis has a small purple flower, which looks like an orchid. It is connected in large pieces, one place is like a purple star, and the other is like amethyst ... When you think about it, these descriptions don't seem to be appropriate. Squinting, the elegant purple, if there is no, like smoke and fog, like a purple dream. ...

When the weather gets warmer every day, the days get longer and longer. The children all took off their heavy cotton-padded clothes and were in a better mood than ever before. We walked hand in hand, stroking catkins, digging wild vegetables, and some stroking poplar leaves to feed the sheep ... The trees in the field were all green, mostly poplars. Poplar trees at that time were different from those now. When leaves spread out, they often have a blush. Looking at a row of trees from a distance, they are dark green and light green, shining, as if they had been painted with red crayons at will, so you can't tell how beautiful they are. Little friends are like birds out of the cage, twittering and chasing, not so much to help adults, but to take the opportunity to come out and play. It is often when the sun sets and the sunset clouds fill the sky that I suddenly realize my purpose of coming out. Everyone ran to the willows, poplars and fields ... until night fell, we had to go home with a loose basket that was barely full, and we were scolded when we got home, but it didn't seem to affect our happiness.

?

At that time, as soon as school was over, I ran out with a basket to find food for the rabbit, completely ignoring my mother's call and reprimand at the back. Of course, digging wild vegetables is an excuse. I was intoxicated with nature and sat on the lawn full of violets. The sun is warm, the wind is gentle, and white clouds are fluttering in the sky ... everything is like a poem, as if growing up is a distant thing. I am thinking that one day I will wear a long purple dress, as elegant as Viola yedoensis ... Sometimes I will dig up a lot of viola yedoensis with roots and plant it in the corner of my yard. Some were pecked off by chickens, some were swept away by my mother, and some survived. They always grew badly and lost their vitality, like malnourished children. I realized that nature was their root, so I stopped digging.

? Viola blooms year after year. I grew up and went to school in other places. I once read Mr. Ji Xianlin's Orchid in February, sobbed several times and finished reading it. My heart is so shocked! The article writes that when his daughter Wan Ru was alive, Ji Lao always watched her go away when she left the Yanyuan Garden. "... the purple fog of February orchid in the left hand and the blue smoke of weeping willows in the right hand ..." This scene makes people feel very sad every time they watch it. Ji Lao writes the vicissitudes of life with calm and natural brushstrokes. I was devastated during the Cultural Revolution, but fortunately I had the warmth of my relatives. At the end of the Cultural Revolution, no matter how hard it was to come, relatives died one by one. That February orchid, which witnessed the joys and sorrows of the world, once made me suspect that Viola yedoensis grew up with me. But the article said, "The momentum is extraordinary and it has soared." It also made me feel that I was not Viola yedoensis, and it was inconvenient to find information at that time. I've been struggling with this problem in my mind.

It was not until two years ago that the kindergarten next to the school planted February orchids that my doubts were solved. Both February Orchid and Viola are tenacious and have purple flowers, but February Orchid is purple and white, which is more beautiful. Moreover, February orchids can grow very tall and have more flowers, which are bigger than Viola yedoensis. Viola viola grows on the ground, and there are only a few small flowers on a tree, so it really can't have the momentum of February orchid. Come to think of it this way, in fact, there is really nothing about viola in the limited literary works I have seen before. I have never seen a painting of Viola yedoensis. Not long ago, I read a poem by Japanese writer Natsume Soseki:

? May it be like Viola,

? Born short.

I was suddenly surprised and unforgettable. I would like to ask people in the world, who is not as small as Viola in the long river of time?

When I grow up, I find that my life is so short, and ten or twenty years is just a moment? . Nowadays, almost all the plants in the fields I was familiar with when I was a child have disappeared, and the concepts of weeds, wild vegetables and wild flowers have almost disappeared with the extensive use of herbicides. The beach is occupied, where can I see willow trees? Poplar is hardly the original variety, and spring is no longer so dazzling. Occasionally I see Viola yedoensis, and I lament its tenacious vitality. Like when I was a child, I dug several trees and planted them in the leek field in front of the door, saying it was a leek field, but it was actually a palm-sized place. I didn't expect Viola yedoensis to grow vigorously this time. In cold and summer, their number has surpassed that of leeks, and even one after another, Viola yedoensis, has grown in my flowerpot ... I think it was planted by the wind. Children will pick flowers, tie them into small purple bouquets and put them in his small fish tank. The fish will hide and seek in the shadow of the bouquet, and the children will be very happy.

It seems to be back to the spring many years ago: viola is covered with grass, the sun is warm, the wind is gentle, and white clouds are flying in the sky ... everything is like a poem, as if growing up is a far, far away thing. The little girl is thinking about her long purple dress, which is as elegant as a violet flower. ...

? Now, has her wish come true?

(2)

? The field in spring opened her warm arms to us ... A group of crazy children flapped their wings like birds, and the wind was filled with the breath of growth. ...

? The dining table is gradually enriched. In February of the lunar calendar, the catkins have been eaten, and then the elm money can be steamed. The bright green petals are clustered on the branches, and the children cover their mouths while wiping elm money. The adults are talking and laughing in the basket, which is really as lively as Chinese New Year ... Yushu Qianwo is still one of the delicious foods I can think of. April is coming, Sophora japonica blooms, white as jade, fragrant and elegant, hanging in a string on a tree, which is very poetic ... If you write, each scene is an independent text, which makes people have endless good memories.

What I want to talk about today is digging wild vegetables and pulling out buds.

When the willow branches began to sprout, the tender buds of wild vegetables had already sprouted in some sunrise places, especially beside the pile of wheat straw and firewood. Sometimes, when I pulled them with my hands, I was surprised to find that there were already big wild vegetables. Chrysanthemum morifolium probably germinated first, and there are many, but it tastes bad, so I hardly eat it. There is also a kind of wild vegetable with serrated leaves. I don't know the name now. Germination is early and large, but it is too bitter for anyone to eat. Dandelion is also bitter, and generally no one eats it. Noodles and wheat straw piled vegetables are the most popular, followed by shepherd's purse. As the name implies, noodle dishes have slender and smooth leaves, which are delicious at first sight. I never knew the scientific name of the wheat straw pile. It likes to grow on the threshing floor and in the wheat field. The leaves are wider than noodles, fluffy and have small pink flowers. We are carrying a basket, and every time we find a wild vegetable, we are excited and happy inside. Sometimes digging shepherd's purse is not as delicious as the above two kinds of wild vegetables. If the rain is not diligent, shepherd's purse is old and easy to feel silky.

We are not used to eating wormwood in this place, but I dug it when I was a child. My mother lived in the hospital for a period of time. After discharge, the doctor told her to eat more wormwood. Where my father works, we often go out to dig wormwood. I can accurately distinguish wormwood from Artemisia scoparia. "Artemisia in February, Artemisia in March", this must be mastered in time. It's still very young, and it broke down in February of the lunar calendar. It grows on the roots of the previous year, which is very troublesome to pull up, but it has good efficacy. Actually, I think the March one is still valid. The tender seedlings of bitter fleabane bitter fleabane are completely edible. When you grow taller, you really become wild wormwood.

? Digging wild vegetables almost runs through the whole spring.

? Sometimes, we pull out buds, which children today may never have heard of. Thatched grass grows in sunny places, and its white and sweet roots are extremely widespread, usually in a large area, on hillsides and beside ditches. "The spring breeze is blowing high", and the thatch withered last year, I don't know when to drill out the green buds, which are like mushrooms after rain. The head is pointed and fat, and it tastes sweet when it is tender. Brush dead leaves with your hands, and every time you see a bud, it makes people very happy, much like the process of treasure hunting. It is addictive to pull it up, and it is often a big pull before sitting down and eating comfortably. It only takes a few days when the grass buds can be eaten. Soon it will be as old as chewing cotton wool, and soon it will become a grass flower, much like a reed flower. When boys see girls eating cat teeth, they will sing their own children's songs together. Mandarin is difficult to express, but the dialect is very rhyming and catchy. Some girls also make up and scold them, while others simply ignore them. Finally, they reluctantly joined the team that plucked and ate buds. I don't think anyone had read poetry at that time, and they couldn't write poetry at all, just rhymed. No wonder there are many folk songs in The Book of Songs, the first collection of poems. I think so, too. Life creates art. ..

? Time never stops.

? Although every spring comes as scheduled, catkins and elms have not been eaten for many years, and occasionally Sophora japonica is eaten. If you have more, scald it with boiling water and put it in the refrigerator, so you can eat it in winter. In fact, our generation and the previous generation like to eat, and children think it is not delicious. Among wild vegetables, the wheat straw pile has long been extinct. Noodles and shepherd's purse are sometimes seen in the city's vegetable market. They are all planted artificially in greenhouses, and I will buy them to eat. On the contrary, Artemisia sphaerocephala still exists tenaciously and endlessly, making people look like old friends and want to ask: How are you?

? It is said that there are 10,000 mu of peach orchards here, all of which have been developed in recent years. Peach blossom viewing has become a major symbol of spring. People from other places, locals, are noisy like a market, and suddenly the scenery is different.

? Once my family and I walked in a sparsely populated place and saw wormwood on the bank of a big river. I was so excited that I forgot to see the peach blossoms, so I called on my family to dig together. Later, I was digging in the rain. I had a hard time choosing and washing it after I got home. My mother asked me to boil water after the sun. I remember when my mother used to treat diseases, she just cooked and ate. It's terrible. I had a brainwave and cooked steamed vegetables. When I served the carefully steamed and prepared dishes, the children took a bite and stopped using chopsticks. No matter what I said about the benefits of eating wormwood, they insisted that it smelled like Chinese medicine and refused to eat any more. I don't feel this way. Not bitter or astringent. It feels like Artemisia selengensis. Only I ate it. I steamed the remaining wormwood into a nest and put it in the refrigerator. I ate one occasionally and didn't finish it until the end of summer. Because Herba Artemisiae Scopariae has the function of clearing liver and benefiting gallbladder, it actually has an excellent effect on improving skin. But then in the spring, they didn't have time to accompany me to dig wormwood ten miles away. They really don't like it, and I understand, because they haven't experienced it. Just because I like eating doesn't mean it's really delicious on earth, and there is more or less nostalgia in it.

? I wonder if any thatch survived. I haven't seen any kind in the greenhouse. Sometimes I want to go to the fields with my children to find thatched buds, but adults and children are busy and have never been able to do so. Actually, even if I go, I don't think I can find Moya.

I always feel some unspeakable regrets.

? (3)

? After several rains, purslane grows in the garden, oily and fat, which makes people relaxed and happy.

? Spring has passed.

? Portulaca oleracea began to appear on the dining table of every household.

? Grass and flowers that belong to summer begin to grow. The dog's tail was as long as crazy grass, and soon it was covered with leek fields. If you break the bowl in a few days, it will be a large piece with pink morning glory. Saffron sticks out long spikes at the water's edge, with a graceful posture. There is also a kind of plant that likes to grow near the water and won't be immersed in water. Its leaves are long and oval, its stems are very long, and it produces golden flowers like thousands of chrysanthemums. I don't know its name, but I like this flower very much.

? I was a teenager and had my own room. My dad also asked the carpenter to make me a bookcase. Because he likes reading, I even read his books on welding technology page by page, together with other books.

? I also collected two jars, saying that they are "collections", which will really make people laugh, even ordinary people will laugh their heads off. Those are two pickle jars, which are useless and put in the corner. I moved to my room.

? Earlier, when I was young, I found several pots of porcelain in the corner of my house. There are exquisite patterns on it, and it feels very thin and clear when looking at the sun. I was as excited as discovering the new continent, and I took out all the dishes, bowls and spoons in it to play. My mother probably didn't think it was practical, so she never said anything about me. When I play house, I accidentally break it. Take it if it's broken, take it if it's broken ... When I got to primary school, these were basically destroyed by my hands.

? More importantly, this is a Yu Pei (of course, I didn't know it was Yu Pei). I turned to it in the drawer of a broken table, and it was heavy in my hand, not pure white, as if it were slightly duck egg green. One end of it is bent, I can't tell what it looks like, and the other end is a water ripple pattern with a small fish (now that I think about it, it may be a brave animal) carved vividly. I like it very much. I also dug up a long roll of Burgundy ribbon, like a fairy ribbon, and I like it very much. I tied Yu Pei with this ribbon, pulled it over to play, and knocked out a corner. Dad works in other places, and my mother thinks it's useless, so no one talks about me. When I began to like ribbon dancing again, I untied it and threw it into the drawer.

I don't know what year I went to school. I listened to the novel "Muslim Funeral" on the radio. I suddenly realized one thing. I rushed over and asked my mother, where is the piece with small fish and ripples? My mother calmly said that she sold it. I was surprised and asked how much it was worth. My mother still said calmly, seventy. Seventy dollars was really not a small sum at that time, and my father's monthly salary was only thirty or forty dollars. And my mom always thought it was a waste. I told her it was jade. How can I sell it? She just said she couldn't find it and the buyer didn't know where it came from. Later, it was confirmed from my dad that it should be Yu Pei who was hung on his belt by the ancients. This is the only more precious thing I have ever seen, and I missed it.

? What can I collect at my age and at this stage of my life? Two cans, dark brown, smooth and flawless. I feel simple and generous, and I like it very much, so I put it in my room. One is on the ground, with my vigorous dead branches in it. The other one is on the bookshelf by the window, which is used to arrange flowers.

? There are no suitable flowers in spring. Dandelion and viola are stuck to the ground, too small. Rehmannia flowers fall off easily when touched, so they can't get home. Tung flowers are beautiful, too high, and it is not easy to break branches, not to mention the strong fragrance. Sophora japonica is an elegant Tai Su, and my mother will never let it into the house. I planted many flowers in the corner of the yard. Sunflowers and cacti grow on the wall, and Impatiens are in full bloom, but they are not suitable for flower arrangement. ...

Until the early summer, clusters of wild chrysanthemum-like golden flowers bloomed and suitable flower arrangements were available. I think this kind of flower should be a plant with the scientific name "Inula". There are ditches along the ground and puddles outside the village. There are few people walking along the canal, so it is better, with complete branches and leaves and big flowers. I easily folded a big bundle and carried it all the way home. I was very happy. Go home and trim it a little and put it in a jar full of water. The room suddenly lit up. It's so beautiful to have this golden flower on the dark brown jar! Suddenly, I feel more warm and poetic in my life ... I am never tired in the afternoon cicadas. Sometimes I read novels, sometimes I write what I want to write, and sometimes I sit on the stairs and draw branches of Toona sinensis. ...

As long as my father doesn't come back, no one in my family will criticize me (although my mother and my sister also questioned my jar and dead branches), and my homework has always been good. As soon as my father came home, I quickly hid my masterpiece. When he saw me drawing, he was angry: I can't brush, my pen is ugly, and I'm used to drawing? I'm shaking. The angrier he is, the uglier I write. My mother sometimes whispers beside her: Why do you criticize her when her grades are all there? My father's voice sounded like thunder to me: how does it compare with the students in the whole province? Compared with students all over the country? There are many people better than her!

He wants me to be born a genius, but I'm just an ordinary child and I don't want to compete with anyone at all! I just want to have fun and go to school happily. The pressure he gave me reminded me of the Monkey King, who was trapped at the foot of Wuxing Mountain, lonely and helpless, earning nothing.

His unfinished dreams during the Cultural Revolution are always pinned on me. In fact, I just read fast and read a lot before school, which made him see a glimmer of hope. He wants his daughter to become a phoenix. His wish is too urgent. He also wants me to "carry forward" the calligraphy that my ancestors were good at. Really, this burden is too heavy! I have no talent for calligraphy, no copybook, no teacher to teach me, only my father's reprimand. So that when it comes to practicing calligraphy, there is still a shadow in my heart.

My father is smart and talented, good at dancing and singing, and has a unique literary view. He should be a standard literary youth when he was young. It is only in turbulent times that he has no chance to go to college. He is stricter to me than to be kind. I only showed him an essay from a primary school, and he pointed out what this place should be like. I suddenly understood that writing a composition needs to focus on small things and the main idea needs to be sublimated. Really, it helps me a lot. But he never thought I was good. No matter what I do, he thinks I have too many shortcomings. At least on the surface. Even though the actual situation is very good, I still don't believe in myself and feel that I am the worst one. All the compliments I heard came from my teacher, not my father. So my composition and drawing are always hidden from him. Even if I get full marks, I will hide it, because he will say that my writing is ugly. The two fancy jars in my room make me afraid that he will turn against me. Fortunately, he didn't criticize me in this respect and put a set of tea cups on my bookcase.

Fortunately, he came home for a short time. As soon as he left, I quickly threw away the withered flowers and picked a big bunch. When there are no Inula flowers in autumn, I will fold reed flowers and arrange flowers. If reed flowers are thrown away by my mother, I will leave them empty ... sometimes I just want to grow up and leave this home that is too restrictive for me.

? In the autumn of fifteen, blue chrysanthemums began to bloom. I really want to go to a normal school in other places. My father sent me to school. When he left, I cried into tears. I miss my beloved jar, the wild flowers in it, and the home I always wanted to leave ... he didn't look back at me. I wonder if there are tears in his eyes. Maybe I think too much. He is always strict with me. How can he tolerate me being so weak? Later, I went to school and he saw me off. He is a little old, as if he were suddenly kinder than before. He bought me ice cream and snacks like a child.

? In fact, I gradually realized that my father has always been proud of me. He works in Hebei Province. When he heard my mother say that whenever he knew my grades, he would meet his colleagues and say that my three girls came first in the exam ... so his colleagues knew what happened to his third girl, even though almost no one had seen me. When my composition was published, when my composition won a prize in the national competition, when my name appeared on the winners list … I never told him that I didn't want him to see what I wrote at all. On the contrary, his colleagues already knew my name, but they happened to see it in the children's book. Hurry up and let him report good news: Jiang, see if it is your third girl? My mother said that my father was so happy that he talked to almost everyone in the factory, and then wrote to me to confirm the situation. But he didn't praise me to my face. He always said that there are many people who are better than you. Sometimes I feel so angry that I want to break chopsticks and tell him to find someone stronger than me to be your daughter.

Maybe this is a typical China father. I hope you are excellent, but I am afraid that you will accidentally increase your pride, so I often hit you. Fortunately, there was no rebellious period in my growth, and I gradually understood him. My first month's salary was spent on buying him good wine and cigarettes. I wonder how happy he will be to tell others. Later, I learned that he knew it was fake wine at the first sip, but he was still happy to say that the wine bought by my three girls was good!

……

Things in this world, some efforts will have results, and some efforts will not have results. My father didn't tell me this truth, but I know it.

After all these years, I am still an ordinary person. Every time I think about it, my heart always aches. After all, I failed my father's expectations. He works hard, but I'm not a piece of gold.

? Those youthful years, those summer flowers, those father's reprimands … will never come back.

? Because it's all gone.

?