Hut in the forest

I went for a walk in front of the door in the morning and saw the leaves of a tree on the field. It was very strange: a leaf of fish was white, the leaves were black, and the leaves were raised on a high branch. Come down. How can there be such leaves? I took a closer look, and the white leaves of the fish flew away suddenly. It turned out to be a swamp tit. This kind of tit likes to live in the mixed zone of deciduous broad-leaved forest and coniferous forest. It often appears in flat woods in winter, with herbivorous seeds, large mouth, shiny head, and pointed tail, making a cricket tweet. It stood silently on the tree, and the wind did not move. I look at the black leaves, I can see clearly, not a leaf, but a bunch of black berries, hanging down, and it is very similar to the leaves. In fact, there is no leaf on the tree. I took a stub of the branch, the white sap was flowing, the bark was pale yellow-red, it was very crisp and crackling, and the branch made a crisp sound when it broke. I don’t know what kind of tree it is, but I can tell that it belongs to the species of Paulownia. The leaves on the ground are large and thick, and the texture of the branches has bubbles. This kind of tree has taken root and saw the rain and sunlight. When autumn frost came, all the fallen leaves were similar to the family’s inherited full baldness. As I watched the leaves in detail, I saw a yellow mud wall and two black tile oblique eaves, and I could hardly believe this was the truth-during hundreds of walks, back and forth, and dozens of walks I have never seen a house here when I went to the hillside to watch birds in the rice fields. The house is hidden behind a fir tree. The fir tree is about three acres away from the rice field. It is a cherry forest. The cherry forest is a dirt road for me to walk. , About 30 meters away, all are tall white Mao and Mao Mao, Wuer hiding in the noisy playful foraging for courtship. Half a month ago, the cherry tree was all deciduous, and the black and black branches peeled off day by day, exposing yellow-white flesh, with the illusion of dying, like saying: Winter, spare me, and pray that the winter will end as soon as possible. It’s like saying: In winter, try your best to do everything as soon as possible. Even if I take off my skin, I will endure the long winter.

The colors of the white thatch and the mud wall are dark yellow, and the cherry leaves are gray. Before the frost, the mud room was protected. The mud room was slightly shorter than the cherry tree, and the fir tree became a barrier to the mud room. Can’t see the mud house at all. In my place of residence, I almost walked around the surrounding hills, mountains, rivers and beaches, and never saw the house within two miles. My neighbors were limited to birds, trees, snakes, mountain rabbits, bamboo, etc. My The guests are also limited to cows kept in mountain ridge fields, passers-by passing by dirt roads, and people cutting firewood in mountain forests. Of course, the most precious guests are the moonlight in the cold house and the sound of water in Nanpu Creek at night. Two miles away, there is a factory building, belonging to a waterworks, surrounded by a square fence, two big black dogs in front of the door, seeing people, barking, and following, I went to the river a few times to play, and I copied a piece of wood by hand Stick, get ready to drive it out at any time. At the foot of the mountain on the right side of Hebian Butou, there is a simple hollow brick low house, which is used as a night porter to guard the osmanthus nursery. The small yard filled by digging the mountain is buried with more than a dozen fir trees. The treetops are still green. Hanging on the eaves-I resent the owner of the house, where the bamboo stalks and bamboo whips are buried in any open space, and three buckets of water will be poured, and the spring will sprout and shoot, and three years later it will be a bamboo forest. To cut trees and pick peaches.

Many times, at least twenty times, I walked to the front of the cedar forest and wanted to see the mountain beams behind the trees. There were sparsely pulled Eucommia ulmoides on the mountain beams. When the wind came, the leaves were pulsating and shaking, both beautiful and pleasant. There is also a red maple, which is also the tallest tree in the surroundings. On a steep slope, it is towering from the bottom of the Bau Mau floating, the leaves are blood-red, and the Yanyan is gorgeous. Its enthusiasm that has accumulated for many years will erupt in this autumn. Perseverance. Can reach the cedar forest, no way to go, reed Ba Maoshan Camellia oleifera beech briar, densely turned. A mountain canal is underneath, more than two meters deep and covered with shrubs. The briar erected a natural shack that is horizontal and vertical. Briar rose with red berries, and the birds fell on the branches, humming while pecking. Obviously, this is their private territory, their amusement park and grain depot. Wild Prickly Pears are covered with vines, and the vine leaves are exhausted. Wild Prickly Pear is golden and golden, with a peanut-like shape, and spikes like small pinpoints. It crushes the berries and squeezes out the yellow pulp water, which is as sweet as honey. It tastes cool, smooth, and has a green flavor. I picked wild prickly pear many times, one bowl at a time. Maybe I thought that this mountain beam is no different from other mountain beams. It’s nothing more than Bama, Sorbus, Bamboo Forest, Cherry Forest. It’s just a big red maple. Or maybe I can stand at the bottom of the mountain and see it clearly. The physical scene is clear in the chest, without deep research. As everyone knows, for nature, every time we go there, even if we walk hundreds of times in the same area, the sights and feelings we experience are different, and each discovery is more than the last one-as shown by nature. There are far more than our imagination, and there is a steady stream of renovations and endless. Love someone, the deeper the love, the deeper the injury. Love nature, we get infinite comfort. The morning dew illuminates the people who meet it just in time. The moon always bathes those who walk in the wilderness. A forest, a bush of grass, a spring of water, even a barren beach, a dry river, a desolate mountain, will give us unexpected joy and unspeakable aesthetics. Birds use their soft abdomen to touch the blue sky, trees use their green branches to measure the four seasons, and fish use their fins to swim across the earth. My rule is to give my feet to the earth as much as possible, even if the land I walk is only two kilometers in radius, I must be familiar with it like a woman I know well, close to it, smell it, love it bad temper Listen to its Yinggeyan language, hug it naked, touch its coarse clothes, and watch it swell and mist.

At noon, with a hatchet, a path was cut from the field to the cherry forest. The mud house is a long-sided loess room of about forty square meters. There are small wooden windows on the north and south walls. There is only one door on the east wall. The house is no more than two meters and four meters high. It has two beveled triangular roofs covered with red tiles. Due to their age, the tiles have turned black and there are many moss in the tile ridges. After walking along the front and back of the house, I walked twice and also entered the house. Looking at it in detail, I didn’t find the kitchen, stove, and stove. It can be seen that the house never lived. On the coast of Nanpuxi, there are many mud-brick houses like the towers, yellow and yellow, with chimneys, and under the mouth of the stove, for flue-cured tobacco. This house is obviously not, maybe it is a temporary rest or a pile of debris in the mountains. The wall is yellow mud, the surface has been peeled off, and lime and rough stones are exposed.

A hole was dug under the threshold, and the yellow and yellow mud was pulled out of the hole. The mud was finely shredded, and there was about a dung. Obviously, this is where the weasel was resting. This is obviously an animal home. I also saw a house like this when I was a child. To the right of my house is a mountain ridge. Four miles deep in the ridge, a dam is built at the mouth of the two mountains to store water and become a reservoir. The outlet of the culvert for drainage of the reservoir has a vertical distance of more than ten meters from the ground. When the water leaks, an artificial waterfall is formed. In the village, where a water fall, a leeches house was built for barley. In the early 1980s, the machine room was abandoned, and the leeches room was abandoned, and crickets, yellow weasels, and muntia often appeared in the room, especially the sparrows, tits, and big gray tits, which pecking the bran ash grains on the ground. Hunting people often set up here. Sparrows are pleasing, often building nests in room walls and houses to incubate their offspring. The easiest way to catch sparrows is to use a net net for fishing to knock on the wall hole. The sparrow is frightened, screams out, and is covered by the net bag. In the countryside, many people have such a vicious bird-catching experience as a child. In fact, the abandoned buildings of human beings will be unreasonably developed and used by animals. However, most wild animals are as far away from humans as possible, hiding in shrubbery, grassland, wetland, broad-leaved forest, and coniferous forest areas. When these areas disappear day by day, their homes are becoming increasingly narrow, and eventually they are homeless Back-humans will end themselves. I turned around in the mud room and left quickly, I was afraid to disturb the animal and return to its nest. I think of Mi Prishvin (1873-1954, Russian writer) in the chapter “Tree Cave” in “Naked Spring”: “All night we live in caves, tree caves, trees The roots are listening to the sound of the rain like the creatures at all levels of the forest. In this refreshing rain, everything that can move stops, hides, and approaches the trunk, if possible, I even ran into the tree and got into the hole …. With the accompaniment of the naked spring rain, I went through the various houses where all species lived after leaving the sea, and I didn’t find a tree for myself. The hole is better. “This dilapidated abandoned mud house is equivalent to the largest tree cave in Ronghua Mountain.

Back in the yard, my clothes were covered with white thatched grass seeds, which had thin pointed pods and pierced the fabric. I picked the grass seeds one by one and threw them into the yellow mud at the foot of the wall. They may grow goose yellow buds next year. The yard is only five minutes walk from the cottage behind the fir tree. I haven’t seen it dozens of times, but I found it after all. It is hidden so deep that it is integrated into the cherry forest and is part of this mountain forest. In fact, I have no reason not to discover it. Soon spring is coming. When the birds return, Chunyan bites the mud, and the water ghost banana draws the flowers as bright as the moon. I will spend the night in the mud room, listening to the sound of rain, from the trees and the tile ridges Here from Bai Mao tip, eagerly ringing the awakened mountain forest, listening to the snoring of animals, listening to the scream of the nighthawk-I know that all art will be a form, in the spring rainy night The whole body infiltrated in the mud house is the most perfect of all forms. We call it heaven.

Two serpentine ridges

There are two mountain ridges outside the window, and on the ridge there is a clump of green mangosteen and continuous fir trees. The fir tree is turquoise, and the fluffy branches gather up to form a pointed stack. Between the ridge and the ridge, there is a long and deep depression, which flows slowly. In the concave field, rice grass rolled up a layer of lush waves. The low ridges looked like pythons curled up, their stomachs were swollen, and they were too lazy to lift their heads and flutter to the ground in the sun. I finished the shower in the morning and looked out the window, ah ah, huh, roar a few times. Ahhhhhh, a few seconds later, it came back from the mountain stream. The echo was as quiet as mine, although it was longer and gentler, and even eliminated the impetuous atmosphere.

In an alpine basin surrounded by mountains, my life is in a state of willow self-deprivation. The remnants of Wuyi Mountain are dragging Baiyun in northern Fujian. The rolling, undulating mountain beams are dark and interlaced. In the evening, there was a layer of molten red in the setting sun, and the white clouds were like a cloud of steam. Alas, the burning air slowly dissipated, the bleak evening wind blew, and the dog’s tail grass, which had always lowered its head, was like a group of young girls on the street, shaking its skirts exaggerated. Long summer drought, grassy, ​​willow tree faded green, wearing a yellow coat, looks very thin and lonely. Every day at this time, I will arrange a few people to go to the river. Nanpu River is under the north slope of Ronghua Mountain, at the end of the gravel-soil road. There are four small hills along the way and a waterworks. There are arc-shaped slopes on both sides of the mountain. On the slope, there are bayberry trees full of slopes, chestnut trees with puppets, and wild camellia tuned into a ridge. The side of the road is full of fatty green grass, obliquely long serrated leaves, and white stems, which will make a rattling noise in the wind. Off-white, wheat ear-like, are Bama flowers, dragonflies in groups of three or five, chasing and playing, stopping on the Bama flowers for a while, and on our shoulders for a while. The road was paddled by river stones. It was bumpy. After walking for ten minutes, my feet were sore. Nanpuxi is about 40 meters wide. We sat on the stone maggots, and moths and mosquitoes fluttered on the surface of the stream. The carp sturgeon jumped out of the water and sucked the moth into its mouth. The surface of the water was swirling whirlpools, and the carp leaped out, and the curved arc quickly turned into a crisp sound of falling water, and the ripples spread to the shore. We were soaked in water barefoot, the sand was scratching itchy, shrimp and bonito surrounded it, sucked on the skin debris, tore the bread, and tossed the petals one by one. They bumped into each other, opened their sharp and flat mouths, and the small catfish that swallowed the bread ran away suddenly. The water was turbid and yellow, and the surface was covered with grass roots, vegetable leaves, plastic bags, and several wooden branches with thick wrists. Someone dredged upstream, and sewage and clean water were mixed together. The pool surrounded by the rock piles is clear. Some people suggest naked swimming, I don’t agree, and said, how can swimming like that be stripe. In fact, there are foreign workers who swim naked on a battery car every day, one man and two women, and the twilight hangs down, passing by my door, hurriedly, men’s bicycles, women’s holding clothing. Once, at the gate of the waterworks, the car tire burst. I asked, “What’s the matter?” He was embarrassed to say that the stone was too big and there were sharp stones, and the car couldn’t move. I’ve seen them swim naked several times, with three heads above the water.

“There must be a lot of catfish and carps in the river. We will go fishing for a day,” I said to the big mouth. He suddenly laughed into a round mouth, and said, go to the nest, I will prepare some more earthworms. Old Dai said that it would be better to go fishing in the reservoir. There are big fish in the reservoir. “Maybe I can get more than 20 kilos of big fish. I have never been to a big fish.” Big Mouth said. We are friends for many years and fishermen. “I can spend the weekend with you too. You’re in the mountains, it’s too lonely.” Big mouth said. “How can I be lonely? I am that kind of grass seed, rooted on the ground, with or without wind or rain.” I said, “Where I live, I find it very interesting.” I used to live by the Yangtze River. When I was okay, I ran to the Yangtze River, watching the endless willow trees, watching Jiangxinzhou, watching the Yangtze River under the setting sun, watching fishermen fishing, and my heart was bulging. When I arrived in the mountains, I identified trees, watched the terrain of mountains and rivers, and hunted with the mountain people. But fishing has never been possible. Either I have a big mouth to arrange a performance on the weekend, or I am always wearing a wine table for entertainment, or I am returning to the city. “Big mouth is coming fishing tomorrow, you see, where can I put it?” Lao Ji suddenly called me one day. He is my friend who lives in this village. I said, go to the reservoir, they want to fish at night. The reservoir is twenty kilometers upstream of Nanpu River. It is a secondary reservoir with many wild fishes and a frequent place for fishermen. After having dinner, we drove an off-road vehicle and wobbled across the mountain road. The birds on the roadside tree were frightened by the car, flew freely, and the leaves crackled.

“No fish at night,” I said. “Why?” Big Mouth asked disappointed. It’s cold, and wild fish don’t eat. Two days in advance, you can use the corn or ground cakes to make nests to catch the fish. The reservoir is between two ridges. By the reservoir, four or five fishermen were sitting with fishing lights on their heads and fishing. Lao Dai took four fishing gear bags from the car, I brought mineral water and a low bench, and surveyed the terrain with a big mouth. I looked at the net bag of a fisherman and caught a lot of wheat ear fish and catfish, one in half. The fisherman pinches a stick in his right hand and holds a flour ball in his left hand. A hanging lamp shines on the water. I wrapped a blanket in my body and said to my big mouth, I have a bad cold, so I wo n’t fish anymore, so I will go fishing with you. The wind rolling over the river drilled along the skin and applied a layer of ice water. Birds on the other side, wow wow, wail like a human. Starlings cooed, high and low, echoing rhythmically in the mountains. The hanging lamp hung a ball of light on the water. I asked the fishermen where to buy this hanging lamp. For online shopping, it took three months, and one charge can take eight hours. As he scooped the fish down, he said slowly. I said, when you go, sell me the lamp, it won’t work without hanging the lamp. It costs one hundred and seventeen, which is very expensive. He says. I said, I’ll give you two hundred, so I won’t let you suffer. He said, do n’t overcharge, we are all fishing and not doing business. I sat for half an hour and went to sleep in the car. I had a cold and a sore throat. I drank white porridge for ten days and couldn’t lift it. I fell asleep soon. “A pair of green eyes.” Old Dai cried. “Wildcat, wildcat.” Big mouth yelled. I sat up and sat up and saw nothing. At twelve o’clock in the night, no fish were caught. On the road, everyone in the cottage slept peacefully. Straw was bundled up and stacked on a wall pile. Cuckoos kept calling. The basket under the eaves was full of rice, and dung and hoe were placed along the foot of the wall. We talked with these green eyes along the way, guessing what kind of animal it was. “It’s twice as big as a cat, and its body color is no different from a cat.” Lao Dai said, “What kind of animal would this be?” That’s not what the Lynx is. The big mouth said for sure. I said, 猞 猁, 猞 猁 is good at climbing, lives in bushes and rocky areas, swims well, is twice as big as cats, and is probably 猞 猁. Blowing in the cold wind in the middle of the night, I was pleasantly surprised to see a pair of green eyes.

In those days, after 4 pm, there was a half-hour shower in Fangyuanli. Clouds gathered on the top of Ronghua Mountain, the black and black, rushing, the rain came sporadic, hit the wide ginkgo leaves, toot, toot, toot, and leisurely rhyme. Three miles away, the sun was shining and the golden light was shining. The wind was down from Ronghua Mountain, heavy rain sprayed, and the grass was full of raindrops. It was bright and shiny. The dust on the road was hit by rain again. After the rain, a rainbow straddles between the two ridges. This is the rainbow closest to the rainbow I have seen. The rainbow curved from above the fir trees and arched like a colorful gate in the village below the slope. The village under the slope was away from the house where I lived and took a small path, less than two miles, but I didn’t visit it. In my spare time, I spend a lot of time on identifying plants and getting familiar with the mountain roads. One hundred meters away from my front door is Ronghua Mountain. There are dense bamboo forests and linden trees on the mountain, and across the road from the doorway is a chestnut forest. Hedgehog-like fruit balls rise from the chestnut branches, and there is a paddy field down the slope. In the morning or after lunch, I went to Tianyu alone and walked. There is a plant with fine vines climbing on the shrubs. Since August, they have been blooming with Xiyan-like flowers. It is a little bit smaller than Xiyan, and the colors and shapes are the same. The leaves are different, more pointed and shaped like irregular pentagrams. After asking several farmers, they couldn’t name them.

One day, I was sitting in the office, hearing the rumbling machine sound, tirelessly ringing outside the window, I opened the window and saw a harvester cutting rice in the field. I dropped the thing at hand, ran to the field, and asked the master, “Why are you harvesting rice now?” The master laughed and said, What season would it be if it wasn’t harvested in autumn? I looked around, and the bark was completely yellow, and the leaves of the lime tree were slightly red. Rumex swells cap-shaped berries, dark purple. I snorted and said, no wonder these days, there were big moths in the office, and they died on the floor for no reason. Moths are as big as thumbs, tan, and creak when they flutter. Sometimes, a dozen died a night and fell to the ground. Like charcoal.

How come it is autumn? I remember when the seedlings arrived, the seedlings on the ridge had not bloomed. Egret foraging in the field. A bunch of canna on the side of the road pulled out the red flame, and now the leaves of the canna have withered. Sweet potatoes were dug, and camellia came down. I’m in the stove, roasting sweet potatoes. The sweet potato oozes out of the plant ash, overflowing the entire kitchen. It’s getting dark fast, thick and thick, and the sky is liquid, soaked in ink. On the full moon night, the entire small basin seemed to be held by a huge hand. The starry sky was pouring down. There was complete silence, no one in the wilderness. I sat alone on the grass alone, either calling a friend in the distance, or quietly looking up at the sky that would never be seen. What a huge glass jar that holds stars, oceans and endless reveries. I don’t want to go anywhere, just want to sit alone, how wonderful it is to accompany myself. The sky above me is always looking up. When I looked up, I could hear a whisper from the depths of silence. Condensation on the blade of grass like dew. Spread like cream on your hair. Like water roaming through the trees. Whenever this time, someone will call me in my heart, so quiet, so shy.

There is heavy snow in winter in the mountains. Winter will come soon. I said to the old man in the house, that hardwood charcoal is produced in the mountains. You should buy more, and then buy 40 pounds of rice wine. Mother is afraid of cold. Winter is difficult. I have been away from home for almost half a year, and I have not yet returned to visit my mother. Looking out the window, a black cloud. The wind swept across, and the red leaves of the azalea fell all over the ground. The cottages under the ridge are brightly lit.