The sunshine is warm and the wind makes me drunk like rice and wine. There is a long row of wild Weiwei on the river bank, and the branches are a little disobedient. On the one hand, they put their hands into the river, on the other hand, they are entangled with each other, one is stronger than the other, and they do not show weakness. It is in full bloom, white and pink. Although they are all small flowers, they bloom in dense clusters, one after another, and the fragrance of flowers comes out at once, with the sweet mixed taste of river water. I noticed that there were thorns on the branches of wild Weiwei, so I was afraid to pick them.
Such a scene of blooming makes my mind active. I think crazily that this wild Vivian flower is like bowls of delicious food from the top of the stove in the New Year, which makes me feel surging and extremely satisfied.
Wild Vivian blooms a large area of colorful flowers every year.
In April, my father's liver disease became more and more serious and he had to be hospitalized. I run back and forth between work, dormitory, hospital and food market day and night. I lost a lot of weight, and my liveliness gradually left me.
The whole morning hanging water has been completed. At lunch, I made crucian carp soup and cooked green vegetable noodles. After eating and drinking, my stepfather rested in the hospital bed.
On Sundays, the hospital is even quieter. There is a small river behind the inpatient department, and there are dense trees by the river. Some patients' relatives or people visiting relatives and friends also rest here.
Sunlight is projected from the air, passing through trees and forming mottled shadows on the ground and stools. It looks beautiful, my mind is a little trance, the wind is warm, and the comfortable environment makes me sleepy. Spring is coming.
There is a kind of fragrance between leisurely and suddenly, which is not too strong. After a while, I smelled the fragrance and went to the river to see a large area of wild Weiwei flowers. It is in full bloom, and the little flower is next to the little flower, but my tears flow down. I'm happy and sad. Wild Weiwei is in full bloom, just like the growth pattern I saw when I was a child. Dense and intertwined, extending in the direction of the river. Flowers are never to be outdone, endless, as if to show all their strength.
There are many white flowers in this area, with a little pink. When I look at the wild Vivian, I am not afraid of its thorns. I picked a few branches in my hand, and the more I looked at them, the more cordial I felt, and my heart flew like a child.
Back to the ward, I put Ye Weiwei in the tea urn and put it on the bedside table. Dad woke up, turned to see wild Vivian some surprises:
"Ye Weiwei, just opened Guang Chen."
"I didn't expect to see you in this wildflower town. It is thick and strong, and looks almost like the river in the village ... "I replied.
"Wild Vivian flower, scientific name rose ..." Dad said again.
"Rose?"
"Good-looking!" I muttered to myself.
In the ward, I whispered my love for Ye Weiwei, and my father told her knowledge. It was quiet around, and wild Vivian was flowing in the air, which was the fragrance of roses.
I go for a walk on the road behind the community every night. At eight o'clock last night, most pedestrians went back, and the landscape lights by the river went out automatically. This river is not clear. There is a boat in the river "chug chug chug chug". Before the sound was still ringing in my ears, water came up on the steps, thugs, thugs. ...
The winter jasmine on the railing has long since disappeared. This is a rose, pink in white and fragrant. Bai Yutang is still wet by the river, careless and heartless, just like the face of a country girl, with red in white, unpretentious and slightly sweet.
Both sides of the road are covered with azaleas. The flowers are gorgeous, and the fragrance alone is stronger than the smell of roses. The roses by the river form a large row of flower walls, and the fragrance is refreshing, so you don't need to take a deep breath. Azaleas are not as dense and mottled as roses. I still like more roses. Looking at the rows of familiar roses blooming there, I seem to see the epitome of time, which is very clear.
Roses don't talk, roses are subtle, but flowers are blooming and branches are fully stretched. No matter how tangled, I just love this growth momentum. In spring, except for wild roses.