汪曾祺 ? ?著

在任何情形之下，那座小花園是我們家最亮的地方。雖然它的動人處不是，至少不僅在于這點。

每當家像一個概念一樣浮現(xiàn)于我的記憶之上，它的顏色是深沉的。

祖父年輕時建造的幾進，是灰青色與褐色的。我自小養(yǎng)育于這種安定與寂寞里。報春花開放在這種背景前是好的。它不至被曬得那么多粉。固然報春花在我們那兒很少見，也許沒有，不像昆明。

曾祖留下的則幾乎是黑色的，一種類似眼圈上的黑色（不要說它是青的）里面充滿了影子。這些影子足以使供在神龕前的花消失。晚間點上燈，我們常覺那些布灰布漆的大柱子一直伸拔到無窮高處。神堂屋里總掛一只鳥籠，我相信即是現(xiàn)在也掛一只的。那只青襠子永遠瞇著眼假寐（我想它做個哲學家，似乎身子太小了）。只有巳時將盡，它唱一會，洗個澡，抖下一團小霧在伸展到廊內(nèi)片刻的夕陽光影里。

一下雨，什么顏色都郁起來，屋頂，墻，壁上花紙的圖案，甚至鴿子：鐵青子，瓦灰，點子，霞白。寶石眼的好處這時才顯出來。于是我們，等斑鳩叫單聲，在我們那個園里叫。等著一棵榆梅稍經(jīng)一觸，落下碎碎的瓣子，等著重新著色后的草。

我的臉上若有從童年帶來的紅色，它的來源是那座花園。

我的記憶有菖蒲的味道。然而我們的園里可沒有菖蒲呵？它是哪兒來的，是哪些草？這是一個無法解決的問題。但是我此刻把它們沒有理由的糾在一起。

“巴根草，綠茵茵，唱個唱，把狗聽?！泵總€小孩子都這么唱過吧。有時甚么也不做，我躺著，用手指繞住它的根，用一種不露鋒芒的力量拉，聽頑強的根胡一處一處斷。這種聲音只有拔草的人自己才能聽得。當然我嘴里是含著一根草了。草根的甜味和它的似有若無的水紅色是一種自然的巧合。

草被壓倒了。有時我的頭動一動，倒下的草又慢慢站起來。我靜靜的注視它，很久很久，看它的努力快要成功時，又把頭枕上去，嘴里叫一聲“嗯”！有時，不在意，憐惜它的苦心，就算了。這種性格呀！那些草有時會嚇我一跳的，它在我的耳根伸起腰來了，當我看天上的云。

我的鞋底是滑的，草磨得它發(fā)了光。

莫碰臭芝麻，沾惹一身，嗐，難聞死人。沾上身子，不要用手指去拈。用刷子刷。這種籽兒有帶鉤兒的毛，討嫌死了。至今我不能忘記它：因為我急于要捉住那個“都溜”（一種蟬，叫的最好聽），我舉著我的網(wǎng)，躡手躡腳，抄近路過去，循它的聲音找著時，拍，得了。

可是回去，我一身都是那種臭玩意。想想我捉過多少“都溜”！

我覺得虎耳草有一種腥味。

紫蘇的葉子上的紅色呵，暑假快過去了。

那棵大垂柳上常常有天牛，有時一個、兩個的時候更多。它們總像有一樁事情要做，六只腳不停的運動，有時停下來，那動著的便是兩根有節(jié)的觸須了。我們以為天牛觸須有一節(jié)它就有一歲。捉天牛用手，不是如何困難工作，即使它在樹枝上轉(zhuǎn)來轉(zhuǎn)去，你等一個合適地點動手。常把脖子弄累了，但是失望的時候很少。這小小生物完全如一個有教養(yǎng)惜身份的紳士，行動從容不迫，雖有翅膀可從不想到飛；即是飛，也不遠。一捉住，它便吱吱扭扭的叫，表示不同意，然而行為依然是溫文爾雅的。黑地白斑的天牛最多，也有極瑰麗顏色的。有一種還似乎帶點玫瑰香味。天牛的玩法是用線扣在脖子上看它走。令人想起……不說也好。

蟋蟀已經(jīng)變成大人玩意了。但是大人的興趣在斗，而我們對于捉蟋蟀的興趣恐怕要更大些。我看過一本秋蟲譜，上面除了蘇東坡米南宮，還有許多濟顛和尚說的話，都神乎其神的不大好懂。捉到一個蟋蟀，我不能看出它頸子上的細毛是瓦青還是朱砂，它的牙是米牙還是菜牙，但我仍然是那么歡喜。聽，哪里？這兒是的，這兒了！用草掏，手扒，水灌，嚯，蹦出來了。顧不得螺螺藤拉了手，撲，追著撲。有時正在外面玩得很好，忽然想起我的蟋蟀還沒喂吶，于是趕緊回家。我每吃一個梨，一段藕，吃石榴吃菱，都要分給它一點。正吃著晚飯，我的蟋蟀叫了。我會舉著筷子聽半天，聽完了對父親笑笑，得意極了。一捉蟋蟀，那就整個園子都得翻個身。我最怕翻出那種軟軟的鼻涕蟲?？墒翘玫苡械氖寝k法，撒一點鹽，立刻它就化成一攤水了。

有的蟬不會叫，我們稱之為啞巴。捉到啞巴比捉到“紅娘”更壞。但啞巴也有一種玩法。用兩個馬齒莧的瓣子套起它的眼睛，那是剛剛合適的，仿佛馬齒莧的瓣子天生就為了這種用處才長成那么個小口袋樣子，一放手，啞巴就一直向上飛，決不偏斜轉(zhuǎn)彎。

蜻蜓一個個選定地方息下，天就快晚了。有一種通身鐵色的蜻蜓，翅膀較窄，稱“鬼蜻蜓”?？此羁畹娘w在墻角花陰，不知甚么道理，心里有一種說不出來的難過。

好些年看不到土蜂了。這種蠢頭蠢腦的家伙，我覺得它也在花朵上把屁股撅來撅去的，有點不配，因此常常愚弄它。土蜂是在泥地上掘洞當作窠的?？此鼜亩蠢锇褌€有絨毛的小腦袋鉆出來（那神氣像個東張西望的近視眼），嗡，飛出去了，我便用一點點濕泥把那個洞封好，在原來的旁邊給它重掘一個，等著，一會兒，它拖著肚子回來了，找呀找，找到我掘的那個洞，鉆進去，看看，不對，于是在四近大找一氣。我會看著它那副急樣笑個半天?；蛘撸纱嗫此M了洞，用一根樹枝塞起來，看它從別處開了洞再出來。好容易，可重見天日了，它老先生于是坐在新大門旁邊息息，吹吹風。神情中似乎是生了一點氣，因為到這時已一聲不響了。

祖母叫我們不要玩螳螂，說是它吃了土谷蛇的腦子，肚里會生出一種鐵線蛇，纏到馬腳腳就斷，甚么東西一穿就過去了，穿到皮肉里怎么辦？

它的眼睛如金甲蟲，飛在花叢里五月的夜。

故鄉(xiāng)的鳥呵。

我每天醒在鳥聲里。我從夢里就聽到鳥叫，直到我醒來。我聽得出幾種極熟悉的叫聲，那是每天都叫的，似乎每天都在那個固定的枝頭。

有時一只鳥冒冒失失飛進那個花廳里，于是大家趕緊關(guān)門，關(guān)窗子，吆喝，拍手，用書扔，竹竿打，甚至把自己帽子向空中摔去?？蓱z的東西這一來完全沒了主意，只是橫沖直撞的亂飛，碰在玻璃上，弄得一身蜘蛛網(wǎng)，最后大概都是從兩椽之間空隙脫走。

園子里時時曬米粉，曬灶飯，曬碗兒糕。怕鳥來吃，都放一片紅紙。為了這個警告，鳥兒照例就不來，我有時把紅紙拿掉讓它們大吃一陣，到覺得它們太不知足時，便大喝一聲趕去。

我為一只鳥哭過一次。那是一只麻雀或是癩花。也不知從甚么人處得來的，歡喜的了不得，把父親不用的細篾籠子挑出一個最好的來給它住，配一個最好的雀碗，在插架上放了一個荸薺，安了兩根風藤跳棍，整整忙了一半天。第二天起得格外早，把它掛在紫藤架下。正是花開的時候，我想是那全園最好的地方了。一切弄得妥妥當當后，獨自還欣賞了好半天，我上學去了。一放學，急急回來，帶著書便去看我的鳥?；\子掉在地下，碎了，雀碗里還有半碗水，“我的鳥，我的鳥吶！”父親正在給碧桃花接枝，聽見我的聲音，忙走過來，把籠子拿起來看看，說“你掛得太低了，鳥在大伯的玳瑁貓肚子里了”。哇的一聲，我哭了。父親推著我的頭回去，一面說“不害羞，這么大人了”。

有一年，園里忽然來了許多夜哇子。這是一種鷺鶩屬的鳥，灰白色，據(jù)說它們頭上那根毛能破天風。所以有那么一種名，大概是因為它的叫聲如此吧。故鄉(xiāng)古話說這種鳥常帶來幸運。我見它們吃吃喳喳做窠了，我去告訴祖母，祖母去看了看，沒有說什么話。我想起它們來了，也有一天會像來了一樣又去了的。我盡想，從來處來，從去處去，一路走，一路望著祖母的臉。

園里什么花開了，常常是我第一個發(fā)現(xiàn)。祖母的佛堂里那個銅瓶里的花常常是我換新。對于這個孝心的報酬是有需掐花供奉時總讓我去，父親一醒來，一股香氣透進帳子，知道桂花開了，他常是坐起來，抽支煙，看著花，很深遠的想著甚么。冬天，下雪的冬天，一早上，家里誰也還沒有起來，我常去園里摘一些冰心臘梅的朵子，再摻著鮮紅的天竺果，用花絲穿成幾柄，清水養(yǎng)在白磁碟子里放在媽（我的第一個繼母）和二伯母妝臺上，再去上學。我穿花時，服伺我的女傭人小蓮子，常拿著撣帚在旁邊看，她頭上也常戴著我的花。

我們那里有這么個風俗，誰拿著掐來的花在街上走，是可以搶的，表姐姐們每帶了花回去，必是坐車。她們一來，都得上園里看看，有甚么花開的正好，有時竟是特地為花來的。掐花的自然又是我。我樂于干這項差事。爬在海棠樹上，梅樹上，碧桃樹上，丁香樹上，聽她們在下面說“這枝，唉，這枝這枝，再過來一點，彎過去的，喏，唉，對了對了！”冒一點險，用一點力，總給辦到。有時我也貢獻一點意見，以為某枝已經(jīng)盛開，不兩天就全落在臺布上了，某枝花雖不多，樣子卻好。有時我陪花跟她們一道回去，路上看見有人看過這些花一眼，心里非常高興。碰到熟人同學，路上也會分一點給她們。

想起繡球花，必連帶想起一雙白緞子繡花的小拖鞋，這是一個小姑姑房中東西。那時候我們在一處玩，從來只叫名字，不叫姑姑。只有時寫字條時如此稱呼，而且寫到這兩個字時心里頗有種近于滑稽的感覺。我輕輕揭開門簾，她自己若是不在，我便看到這兩樣東西了。太陽照進來，令人明白感覺到花在吸著水，仿佛自己真分享到吸水的快樂。我可以坐在她常坐的椅子上，隨便找一本書看看，找一張紙寫點甚么，或有心無意的畫一個枕頭花樣，把一切再恢復原來樣子不留甚么痕跡，又自去了。但她大都能發(fā)覺誰來過了。到第二天碰到，必指著手說“還當我不知道呢。你在我繃子上戳了兩針，我要拆下重來了！”那自然是嚇人的話。那些繡球花，我差不多看見它們一點一點的開，在我看書作事時，它會無聲的落兩片在花梨木桌上。繡球花可由人工著色。在瓶里加一點顏色，它便會吸到花瓣里。除了大紅的之外，別種顏色看上去都極自然。我們常以騙人說是新得的異種。這只是一種游戲，姑姑房里常供的仍是白的。為甚么我把花跟拖鞋畫在一起呢？真不可解?！霉靡呀?jīng)嫁了，聽說日子極不如意。繡球快開花了，昆明漸漸暖起來。

花園里舊有一間花房，由一個花匠管理。那個花匠仿佛姓夏。關(guān)于他的機伶促狹，和女人方面的恩怨，有些故事常為舊日傭仆談起，但我只看到他常來要錢，樣子十分狼狽，局局促促，躲避人的眼睛，尤其是說他的故事的人的?；ń畴x去后，花房也跟著改造園內(nèi)房屋而拆掉了。那時我認識花名極少，只記得黃昏時，夾竹桃特別紅，我忽然又害怕起來，急急走回去。

我愛逗弄含羞草。觸遍所有葉子，看都合起來了，我自低頭看我的書，偷眼瞧它一片片的開張了，再猝然又來一下。他們都說這是不好的，有甚么不好呢。

荷花像是清明栽種。我們吃吃螺螄，抹抹柳球，便可看佃戶把馬糞倒在幾口大缸里盤上藕秧，再蓋上河泥。我們在泥里找蜆子，小蝦，覺得這些東西搬了這么一次家，是非常奇怪有趣的事。缸里泥曬干了，便加點水，一次又一次，有一天，紫紅色的小觜子冒出來了水面，夏天就來了。贊美第一朵花。荷葉上花拉花響了，母親便把雨傘尋出來，小蓮子會給我送去。

大雨忽然來了。一個青色的閃照在槐樹上，我趕緊跑到柴草房里去。那是距我所在處最近的房屋。我爬上堆近屋頂?shù)奶J柴上，聽水從高處流下來，響極了，訇——，空心的老桑樹倒了，葡萄架塌了，我的四近越來越黑了，雨點在我頭上亂跳。忽然一轉(zhuǎn)身，墻角兩個碧綠的東西在發(fā)光！哦，那是我常看見的老貓。老貓又生了一群小貓了。原來它每次生養(yǎng)都在這里。我看它們攢著吃奶，聽著雨，雨慢慢小了。

那棵龍爪槐是我一個人的。我熟悉它的一切好處，知道哪個枝子適合哪種姿勢。云從樹葉間過去。壁虎在葡萄上爬。杏子熟了。何首烏的藤爬上石筍了，石筍那么黑。蜘蛛網(wǎng)上一只蒼蠅。蜘蛛呢？花天牛半天吃了一片葉子，這葉子有點甜么，那么嫩。金雀花那兒好熱鬧，多少蜜蜂！波——，金魚吐出一個泡，破了，下午我們?nèi)平痿~蟲。香櫞花蒂的黃色仿佛有點憂郁，別的花是飄下，香櫞花是掉下的，花落在草葉上，草稍微低頭又彈起。大伯母掐了枝珠蘭戴上，回去了。大伯母的女兒，堂姐姐看金魚，看見了自己。石榴花開，玉蘭花開，祖母來了，“莫掐了，回去看看，瓶里是甚么？”“我下來了，下來扶您。”

槐樹種在土山上，坐在樹上可看見隔壁佛院?？床灰姺孔?，看到的是關(guān)著的那兩扇門，關(guān)在門外的一片田園。門里是甚么歲月呢？鐘鼓整日敲，那么悠徐，那么單調(diào)，門開時，小尼姑來抱一捆草，打兩桶水，隨即又關(guān)上了。水東東的滴回井里。那邊有人看我，我忙把書放在眼前。

家里宴客，晚上小方廳和花廳有人吃酒打牌（我記得有個人吹得極好的笛子）。燈光照到花上，樹上，令人極歡喜也十分憂郁。點一個紗燈，從家里到園里，又從園里到家里，我一晚上總不知走了無數(shù)趟。有親戚來去，多是我照路，說哪里高，哪里低，哪里上階，哪里下坎。若是姑媽舅母，則多是扶著我肩膀走。人影人聲都如在夢中。但這樣的時候并不多。

平日夜晚園子是鎖上的。

小時候膽小害怕，黑的，樹影風聲，令人卻步。而且相信園里有個“白胡子老頭子”，一個土地花神，晚上會出來，在那個土山后面，花樹下，冉冉的轉(zhuǎn)圈子，見人也不避讓。

有一年夏天，我已經(jīng)像個大人了，天氣郁悶，心上另外又有一點小事使我睡不著，半夜到園里去。一進門，我就停住了。我看見一個火星?？人砸宦暎形仪叭?，原來是我的父親。他也正因為睡不著覺在園中徘徊。他讓我抽一支煙（我剛會抽煙），我搬了一張?zhí)僖巫?，我們一直沒有說話。那一次，我感覺我跟父親靠得近極了。

四月二日。月光清極。夜氣大涼。似乎該再寫一段作為收尾，但又似無須了。便這樣吧，日后再說。逝者如斯。

電小云 ?譯

In any case, that small garden is the brightest place in our family. Although it is not touching, at least it's not just that.

Whenever home emerges on my memory like a concept, its colour is deep.

The several entrances built by my grandfather when I was young are gray-blue and brown. I have been raised in this kind of stability and loneliness since I was a child. Primrose blooms are good before this background. It won't get so much powder. Although spring flowers are rare in our place, maybe not, unlike Kunming.

What great-grandfather left was almost black, similar to the black colour on the eye circles (not to mention it was green) full of shadows. These shadows are enough to make the flowers in front of the shrine disappear. When lighting the lights at night, we often feel that the big gray-painted pillars stretch out to infinity. There is always a birdcage hanging in the shrine room, and I believe it is hanging even now. The green crotch always squinted and pretended to sleep (I think it seems to be too small as a philosopher). It was only over. It sang for a while, took a shower, and shook a small fog in the sunset shadow stretching into the porch for a moment.

As soon as it rains, any colour is gloomy, the patterns of roofs, walls, flowers and paper on the walls, and even pigeons: iron green seeds, tile gray, ideas, glow white. The benefits of gemstone eyes are only realised at this time. So we waited for the turtledove to cry in our garden. Waiting for an elm plum to be touched for a moment, the broken petals fell, waiting for the recoloured grass.

If there is a red colour on my childhood on my face, its source is that garden.

My memory smells like calamus. However, there is no calamus in our garden? Where did it come from and what grass? This is an unsolvable problem. But I entangled them for no reason at this moment.

"Bagen grass, green, sing and listen to the dog." Every child has sang like this. Sometimes I do nothing. I lie down, wrap my fingers around its roots, pull it with a sharp force, and listen to the tenacious roots broken one by one. This sound can only be heard by the weed puller himself. Of course, I have a piece of grass in my mouth. The sweetness of the grass root and its seemingly water red colour are a natural coincidence.

The grass was overwhelmed. Sometimes my head moves, and the fallen grass slowly stands up again. I stared at it quietly for a long time. When I saw that its efforts were about to succeed, I put my headrest again and shouted "Uh-huh" in my mouth! Sometimes, if you don't care, pity its painstaking efforts, forget it. This kind of character! Those grass sometimes frighten me. It stretches out in my ears when I look at the clouds in the sky.

The sole of my shoes is slippery, and the grass grinds it up.

Don't touch the stinky sesame seeds and provoke them all over. It's hard to smell dead people. Put it on your body and don't touch it with your fingers. Brush with a brush. This kind of seed has hooked hair, which is disgusted. So far, I can't forget it: because I'm eager to catch the "all slippery" (a kind of cicada, the best cicada), I raised my net, crept my feet, took a shortcut, followed its voice, and patted it.

But when I went back, I was full of that kind of odour. Think about how many "sliding" I have caught!

I think tiger ear grass has a fishy smell.

The red colour on the leaves of Perilla is almost over.

There are often beetles on that big weeping willow, sometimes one or two more. They are always like having something to do, six feet keep moving, sometimes stopping, and moving two knotted tentacles. We thought that the beetus had a section and it was one year old. Catching the bull with your hand is not how difficult to work. Even if it moves around on the branches, you can wait for a suitable place to do it. I often get tired of my neck, but I'm rarely disappointed. This little creature is completely like an educated gentleman who cherishes his identity. Although he has wings, he never thinks of flying; even if he flies, it is not far away. As soon as he caught it, he squeaked and disagreed, but his behaviour was still gentle. There are the most white-spotted beetle in the dark, and there are also extremely magnificent colours. There seems to be a little rose flavour. Tianniu's way to play is to buckle it around his neck with thread to watch it go. It reminds people... It's good not to say it.

Crickets have become adults' favourites. But adults are interested in fighting, and we may be more interested in catching crickets. I have read an autumn worm spectrum. In addition to Su Dongpo Minan Palace, there are also many words from Jida Monks, which are not easy to understand. When I caught a cricket, I couldn't see whether the fine hair on its neck was tile or cinnabar, and whether its teeth were rice or vegetable teeth, but I was still so happy. Listen, where? Here it is, here it is! Take it out with grass, pick it by hand, irrigate it, ho, and pop up. Regardless of the snail vine, he pulled his hand, pounced, chased it. Sometimes I was having a good time outside, and suddenly I remembered that my cricket hadn't been fed yet, so I hurried home. Every time I eat a pear, a lotus root, pomegranate and diamond, I have to give it a little. I was having dinner when my cricket screamed. I will hold my chopsticks and listen to it for a long time. After listening to it, I am very proud to smile at my father. As soon as you catch crickets, you have to turn over the whole garden. I'm most afraid of rummaging out that soft slug. But my cousin has a lot of ways to sprinkle a little salt, and it will immediately turn into a pool of water.

Some cicadas can't bark. We call them mute. It's worse to catch a mute than a matchmaker. But mute also has a way to play. It's just right to put it up its eyes with two purslane petals, as if purslane's petals were born to grow into such a small pocket for this use. As soon as they let go, the mute keeps flying up and never turns.

Dragonflies breathe in selected places one by one, and it will be almost late. There is an iron-coloured dragonfly with narrow wings, called "ghost dragonfly". Looking at its style flying in the corner, I don't know what the reason is, and there is an indescribable sadness in my heart.

I have been unable to see the wasp for many years. This kind of stupid guy, I think it also pouts his buttocks around on the flowers, which is a little unworthy, so it often fools it. Earth bees dig holes in the mud as nests. Looking at it drilled out a fluffy little head from the hole (which looked like a nearsighted eye), buzzed and flew out. I sealed the hole with a little wet mud and dug it next to the original one. Wait for a while, he dragged his stomach back, looked for it, found the hole I had dug, and got in. Look, it's not right, so I looked around the air. I will look at him and smile for a long time. Or just watch it enter the hole, stuff it up with a branch, and watch it open a hole elsewhere and come out again. It's easy to see the sun again, so the old gentleman sat next to the new gate to breathe and blew the wind. The expression seemed to be a little angry, because by this time, there was no sound.

Grandma told us not to play mantis, saying that it ate the brain of the earth valley snake, and an iron snake would come out of its belly, which broke when it was wrapped around the horse's feet. Everything passed as soon as it was worn. What should I do if it was worn into the skin and flesh?

Its eyes are like golden beetles, flying in the flowers at the May night.

Birds in my hometown.

I wake up in the sound of birds every day. I heard the birds cries from my dream until I woke up. I can recognise a few very familiar calls, which are called every day, as if on that fixed branch every day.

Sometimes a bird flies into the flower hall recklessly, so everyone quickly closes the door, closes the window, shouts, claps hands, throws books, hits bamboo poles, and even throws their hats into the air. The poor thing had no idea at all. It just flew rampantly, touched the glass, made a spider web, and finally probably escaped from the gap between the two rafters.

The garden always drys rice noodles, stove rice, and bowls of cakes. I'm afraid that birds will come to eat, put a piece of red paper. For this warning, the birds did not come as usual. Sometimes I took off the red paper and let them eat for a while, and when I felt that they were too insatisible, I shouted away.

I cried for a bird once. That's a sparrow or toad. I don't know who came from. He was overjoyed. He picked out the best of the thin bamboo cage my father didn't use to live in, served it with the best sparrow bowl, put a water chestnut on the rack, and installed two vine jumping sticks for half a day. I got up very early the next day and hung it under the wisteria frame. It's time for the flowers to bloom. I think it's the best place in the garden. After everything was done properly, I still enjoyed it alone for a long time, and I went to school. As soon as I got out of school, I hurried back and took the book to see my bird. The cage fell to the ground and broke, and there was still half a bowl of water in the sparrow bowl. "My bird, my bird!" My father was grafting the peach blossoms. Hearing my voice, he quickly came over, picked up the cage and said, "You hang it too low. The bird is in the belly of Uncle's tortoiseshell cat." Wow, I cried. My father pushed my head back and said, "It's not shy, such an adult."

One year, many nights suddenly came to the garden. This is a gray-white bird of the genus Heron. It is said that the hair on their heads can break the wind. So there is such a name, probably because of its call. As the old saying goes, this kind of bird often brings luck. I saw them eating twitter to make a nest. I went to tell my grandmother that my grandmother went to see it and didn't say anything. I think of them coming, and one day they will go again as if they were coming. I thought about it all the way, from there, from where I went, all the way, and looked at my grandmother's face all the way.

What flowers bloom in the garden are often my first to find out. I often change the flowers in the copper jar in my grandmother's Buddhist hall. The reward for this filial piety is that I always let me go when he needs to pinch flowers and worship. As soon as my father wakes up, a fragrance penetrates into the account. Knowing that the osmanthus flowers are blooming, he often sits up, smokes, looks at the flowers, and thinks deeply about something. In winter, in the snowy winter, no one at home hasn't got up yet. I often go to the garden to pick some ice-hearted plum blossoms, mix them with bright red geranium nuts, and wear them into a few handles with filaments. Clear water is raised on white discs and put them on my mother (my first stepmother) and second aunt's makeup table, and then go to school. When I wear flowers, Little Lotus, a maid who is serving me, often looks next to me with a broom, and she often wears my flowers on her head.

We have such a custom there. Whoever walks on the street with pinched flowers can be robbed. Every time cousins take flowers back, they must take a bus. As soon as they came, they had to go to the garden to see what was blooming just right, and sometimes they were specially for flowers. It's natural to pinch the flower again. I am happy to do this job. Climbing on the begonia tree, the plum tree, the peach tree, and the lilac tree, I heard them say below, "This branch, alas, this branch, come here a little bit and bent over. Hey, alas, that's right!" Take a little risk and use a little force to do it. Sometimes I also contributed a little advice, thinking that a branch had bloomed and fell on the tablecloth in less than two days. Although there were not many flowers, it looked good. Sometimes I accompanied the flowers back with them, and I was very happy to see someone on the way who had seen these flowers. When you meet acquaintances, you will also give them a little on the way.

When you think of hydrangea, you must think of a pair of small white satin embroidered slippers, which is something in my aunt's room. At that time, we were playing in one place, always calling only names, not aunts. Only when writing notes is called like this, and when writing these two words, I feel almost funny in my heart. I gently opened the curtain. If she was not here, I would see these two things. The sun shines in, making people realise that they feel that flowers are absorbing water, as if they really share the happiness of absorbing water. I can sit in the chair where she often sits, casually find a book to read, find a piece of paper to write something, or unintentionally draw a pillow pattern, restore everything to its original appearance without leaving any trace, and go away. But most of her can realise who has been here. When I met the next day, I would point to my hand and say, "I don't know." You poked two stitches on my bandage. I'm going to take them off and come again!" That's naturally scary. I almost saw those hydrangeas bloom little by little. When I was reading and working, they would silently fall on the pear wood table. Hydrangeas can be coloured artificially. Add a little colour to the bottle, and it will suck into the petals. Except for the big red one, all colours look very natural. We often lie that it is a new alien. This is just a game, and what is often provided in my aunt's room is still white. Why do I draw flowers and slippers together? It's really incompredictable. - My aunt is married, and I heard that the days are extremely unsatisfactory. Hydrangeas are about to bloom, and Kunming is getting warmer.

There used to be a flower room in the garden, which was managed by a gardener. The gardener's surname seems to be Xia. Some stories about his cleverness and feud with women are often talked about by old Japanese maids, but I only see him who often come to ask for money. He looks very embarrassed and embarrassed, and avoids people's eyes, especially those who talk about his story. After the gardener left, the flower house was demolished along with the renovation of the houses in the garden. At that time, I knew very little flower names. I only remember that at dusk, the oleander was very red. Suddenly, I was afraid again and hurried back.

I like to tease mimosa. I touched all the leaves and read them together. I looked down at my book, peeked at it opening one by one, and suddenly came again. They all said it was not good. What's wrong?

Lotus flowers are planted during the Qingming Festival. When we eat river snails and wipe willow balls, we can see tenants pour horse dung into a few large jars, spread lotus root seedlings, and then cover river mud. We looked for clams and shrimps in the mud, and felt that it was very strange and interesting for these things to move to such a home. When the mud in the jar dried up, I added some water again and again. One day, the purple-red little purple came out of the water, and summer came. Praise the first flower. When the flowers on the lotus leaves sounded, my mother found the umbrella, and the little lotus seed would send it to me.

Heavy rain suddenly came. A cyan flash shone on the locust tree, and I hurried to the firewood and grass room. That's the house closest to where I am. I climbed up the pile of reed firewood near the roof and listened to the water flowing down from a high place. The hollow old mulberry tree fell, the grape rack collapsed, my four were getting darker and darker, and the raindrops jumped around over my head. Suddenly, when I turned around, two green things in the corner were glowing! Oh, that's the old cat I often see. The old cat gave birth to another group of kittens. It turns out that it is here every time it is born and recuperated. I saw that they were saving to breastfeed. Listening to the rain, the rain was slowly getting lighter.

That dragon claw locust belongs to me alone. I am familiar with all the benefits of it and know which branch is suitable for which posture. Clouds pass through the leaves. Geckos climb on grapes. The apricots are ripe. He Shouwu's vine climbed up the stalagmites. The stalagmites are so black. A fly on the spider web. Where's the spider? Hua Tianniu ate a leaf for half a day. Is this leaf a little sweet and so tender? How lively there are there, how many bees are there? Bo--The goldfish spit out a bubble and broke it. Let's go fishing for goldfish insects in the afternoon. The yellow colour of the citron pedicle seems to be a little melancholy. Other flowers are floating down, the citron flower is falling, the flowers fall on the grass leaves, and the grass slightly lowers its head and bounces up. The eldest aunt pinched the branch of Pearl orchid and put it on and went back. The eldest aunt's daughter and cousin looked at the goldfish and saw herself. The pomegranate flower bloomed, the magnolia bloomed, and the grandmother came. "Don't pinch it. Go back and have a look. What's in the bottle?" I'm down. Come down and help you."

The locust tree is planted on the earth mountain. Sitting on the tree, you can see the Buddha's courtyard next door. I can't see the house. What I can see is the two closed doors and an idyllic outside the door. What are the years in the door? The bells and drums rang all day long, so leisurely and monotonous. When the door opened, the little nun came to hold a bundle of grass, beat two buckets of water, and then closed again. The water drips back into the well. Someone was looking at me over there, and I hurriedly put the book in front of me.

At home banquet guests, there are people eating wine and playing cards in the small square hall and flower hall in the evening (I remember a man playing an excellent flute). The light shines on the flowers and trees, which makes people extremely happy and melancholy. Light a veil lamp, from home to the garden, and from the garden to home, I have never travelled countless times a night. There are relatives coming and going, and I mostly follow the way, saying where it is high, where it is low, where it is up and where it goes down. If it's an aunt or aunt, she will walk around my shoulder. People's shadows and voices are like in dreams. But there are not many such times.

The garden is locked on weekdays and nights.

When I was a child, I was timid and afraid, dark, and the sound of the shadow of the tree was prohibitive. And I believe that there is an "white-bearded old man" in the garden, a land flower god, who will come out at night. Behind the earthen mountain, under the flower tree, he circles slowly, and he will not avoid seeing people.

One summer, I was already like an adult. The weather was depressed, and there was another little thing in my heart that made me unable to sleep. I went to the garden in the middle of the night. As soon as I entered the door, I stopped. I saw a Mars. He coughed and asked me to go. It turned out to be my father. He is also wandering in the garden because he can't sleep. He asked me to smoke a cigarette (I just smoked), and I took a rattan chair and sat down. We didn't say anything. That time, I felt that my father and I were very close.

April 2nd. The moonlight is extremely clear. The night is cool. It seems that it's time to write another paragraph as an end, but it doesn't seem to be necessary. That's it. Let's talk about it later. The deceased is like this.