Tree shadow

Recently, I always have a dream repeatedly. It’s like a sharp dagger, it always cuts my sleep without warning, and often wakes up by the weeping of a tree, opens its eyes, sits up, panic, shortness of breath, and at a loss. I have to turn on the lights in the bedroom. When the light comes on, the tree will stop twitching. I dare not go to sleep, get out of bed and pretend to be a little solution. The mirror in the bathroom always reflected my unhappy look.

There are many trees on the streets of the city, most of which are camphor, juniper, locust, black pine, and ginkgo. These trees are rare in the countryside. They were born with the gorgeousness of urban aristocracy. I see them, they look at me as a strange look. I haven’t held any of them, and they have never experienced the temperature of a countryman with a translucent aura of natural spirituality. They are surrounded by the city’s reinforced concrete. I was called by the wild trees that grew up with me on my shoulders in the countryside, and some trees still have my name’s nick.

The night of the city is cut by lights, fragmented and noisy. The tree also obscured some light. Such a night is not complete, it is ambiguous. The texture of the village at night is light and clear, and the border is clear. The night is the night, pure and quiet. The sun sets and the birds return to the forest. The twilight swept from the field, hit the corner, ran up the eaves, and bordered the trunk to the boundless sky, everything was drowned in thick ink. The last square dance on the village square was over. How did the dancing people and the people who watched the crowd come and go back? The village slowed down for a day, the strong and weak lights gradually went out, and the stars became more and more spirited …

The night is like charcoal. It’s not alone outside the window. Wu Niu said that for a village, a little movement at night is indispensable. Stars are shining, tree shadows are lingering, and many things are not asleep at night. Some are busy during the day, some are busy at night, and others are busy during the day, and also busy at night. I once fed a grey cat, who always squinted in the sun and nodded in the sun, and went out at night. It was used to carrying its keen eyes and sharp claws to tiptoe on the roof tiles. In the large gap between the tiles, a thin sparrow can be accommodated. Those sparrows have nowhere to look for food and are hungry in the snowy winter. Under the cover of the night, my gray cat is always invincible and triumphant.

Dogs are also a species in the village that cannot sleep deeply. In dark scenes, cats don’t pay attention to unfamiliar human voices. Even with strange sounds, cats choose to panic. The dog, by contrast, is only loyal to his owner. It relied on its alert perception to become an unpaid security officer in the village. As long as there is ambiguous movement, it will jump forward without hesitation, Zhang yells. Every time it called, it was a hard stone. These stones hit the heart of the lake at night, and the night showed some mystery.

If you walk in the night, the tree is the best reference. It is the highest coordinate in the country. The size of the canopy and the thickness of the trunk determine their age and prove how long they stay in the village. Neither motion nor stillness disappeared. Land, houses and trees are the three major real estate in the village. The land adjusts the content of planting twice a year; once a house is lived, it is decades; trees are ten years. When it is finished, it is cut down, and the purchased tree is bought, and it is far away, or it is broken into some kind of furniture, and it continues to be with the owner. My grandmother’s birthday coffin was made of sycamore trees. Those sycamore trees were first laid down, then sunk into the pond, and after being removed, peeled, and dried in the shade, they were stored in the old house. My grandmother after the age of 70 watched every day and rubbed those calluses with rough calluses, and it was 16 years. In 1991, her grandmother died and snow closed the door overnight. All the trees in the village turned white for a night.

Planting some trees on your homestead is a matter of spring. There are many types of trees. According to different temperaments, the villagers will choose to plant trees in different areas. Chun tree, linden tree, and Chinese locust tree have slow temperament, and generally hold the edge of the homestead; peach trees, pear trees, and apricot trees are pink and sweet, occupying the front yard, decorating the yard, and also pleasing; jujube trees are the lucky stars in the yard The mulberry tree cannot enter the front yard, the willow tree cannot enter the back yard, and the edge of the ditch is the best place for them to settle down. The poplar has the fastest temperament. There is a species called “five years hug”, which is the most pleasing. After five years, you can sell money. My father buys some tree plants every year. “Predecessors plant trees and future generations take advantage of the cold.” This is the truth. In addition to the old house, the tree is a big object in the family. Trees are planted every year. Planting and releasing, balancing the yin and yang of the old house. Every year some trees willingly lie on the homestead. It is not easy to bring down a tree even by its roots. The roots of the tree are intertwined underground, and the intricate roots form a huge network underground. Father only allowed people who bought the tree to lay the tree flat, and they were not allowed to uproot the tree. Those who buy a tree break the trunk of the tree according to its size, and remove those redundant branches. Father didn’t speak at that time, and he looked dignified. He judged two people back and forth. When he first bargained with the tree-buyer, he was very vigorous. He looked decisively and resolutely. Set a price and never let go easily. The father didn’t say anything, he just kept picking up the branches that had been amputated and stacked them one by one. The trees sold are all aged. My father said that the tree could not be sold early, at least ten years ago, and that tree was dead. If you plant another tree in situ, it will be difficult to survive. A tree was sold, and the space in the homestead was vacant. The place was suddenly full of sunlight, and the wind turned around freely. Father always stood on the stump and remained silent. I looked at my father from a distance, but I felt that the tree was still there, even taller than the original tree.

In the village, in addition to talking to their own people, they also talk to some moving animals, to quiet trees, and to some necessities. The content is different, the way is different, and the reason is different. Talk to the people, talk and laugh; talk to the animals, respond to different calls; talk to the trees, just the sway left by the wind, or the uproar of the leaves. Each talk is a different way of life. I inspected my people carefully. They lived in the village. Some people lived as a tree, a mighty shore, tall; some people lived as a pig, lazy, and arrogant; some people lived as a bow Plough, diligent and humble.

When I was walking in the village, I was always blocked by some trees. I have to bypass them and be at peace with them. They occupy the entire village, and no one deliberately arranges their positions and arranges their premises. They live as they wish. However, there are still some trees, and they seem to be omnipotent. By the wall of the courtyard in my hometown, new saplings are always drilled out of the cracks in the corner of the wall. By the side of a ditch in the wilderness, no one cares about the original bushes. After spring and autumn, one day, passing, there will be a sudden trunk standing. The trees have the heroic spirit that plunges into the clouds, and they swore their vows to the sky. Trees have never lacked this courage, and the limitations of space have been broken again and again. They rise above the ground, above the rocks, above the hospital walls, and above the eaves. The more they go up, the closer they are to the blue sky. The tree was standing there, with strength in its bones, which emerged vigorously from the deep earth’s crust, with green blood flowing swiftly, day and night.

The relationship between tree and Zhuanghu people is the most considerate. There are flowers in spring, shades in summer, fruits in autumn, and shadows in winter. Spring flowers are passionate. Pink is peach, white is pear, and red is apricot. These girls don’t use pink daisies, they are all faceless. The moon was bright, the heat was intolerable, the clouds were overcast, and the rain was coming. The myths of the old people tied me and my friends firmly to the bench. At that time, I knew that Chang’e in the Moon Palace was the most beautiful fairy in heaven, and she also had a jade rabbit. There is a long galaxy separated between the cowherd and the weaver girl, which can only be seen on the seventh day of the lunar calendar on the seventh day of the year. By the way, there is also a magical son-in-law who can make up for missing the sky with colored stones.