I always want to think of sunflowers, by rows, plant it at the gate of small courtyard.
It was grandmother that planted. Grandmother watches and gets the land, just the same as she embroiders on the vamp, a stitch goes down, the green one is the leaf, another stitch goes down, the yellow one is the flower.
It is always virgin in memory mo is unbeaten.
Sponge gourd, cucumber are put up on the shelf long. The flat and flat green leaves are whirling in the wind, those are small and virgin, in bloom among the leaves, is laughing very enchantingly. Most pumpkins lie prone on the ground long, the long one is climing, will draw very far very far. As cherishing and yearning for the remote other party limitlessly, holding strength will pursue. What does remote other party have? It must be the love. I believe pumpkins are an unreasoning passion woman, in pursuing all the way, burst forth great a big yellow flowers. Very richly and gaudily yellow, the feeling not held that melt.
Another kind of plants, is called dark son’s by grandmother. It climbs up along the corner like Boston ivy, it is all green and green that a branches and tendrils are climing, drop after living whole house parcel. One day sometimes, the flowers have been all driven, look far into the distance, the house has been inserted all over the face virginly, so American as to let people love.
Most outstanding, the sunflower. They stand upright, mood is energetic, high in spirits, in face of the direction of the sun, hold the head high, hold high again. Hour I have wondered on why it always rotates in face of the sun, stretched small hands, the flower of that deep bid of dragging desperately, does not allow it to see the sun. But I have loose hand, it bounces, the head is held high again, can never roll over the curved appearance.
Van Gogh uses host of golden yellow, to play up sunflowers in ” sunflower ” of 1888. In the picture, one and a sunflower, in full bloom under the sunshine. It seems to be “ The flame of burning bursting out on the background “ ,Van Gogh says, that is top strong light of love. On the a lot of frustrated a lot of days when hesitate, that big sunflower of one, give him a dim and depressed heart, pour into the last warmth.
Grandmother of me know Van Gogh, understand strong light most of love. But she likes planting sunflowers. Lack it in years that clothing is eaten in those few, that several rows of sunflowers in front of the gate, on our mind, throw down the most bright and most beautiful color. The sunflower has been driven, quickly yes the fragrant and fragrant melon seed has been cracked. This is a kind of very fragrant waiting, such wait is very happy.
The sunflower forms seeds, there is another graceful bearing. Heavy, can see the life scene is in noise and excitement of the inside. At this time, head of it begin, hang low, some bashfully, a bit deep. But the waist pole is still straight and upright. One drop of melon seeds, take shape one past one, energetic, suck foot sunshine and fragrance of flowers. The sunflower grows up, the honeycomb is general. Grandmother takes them, rap lightly, a melon seed of one, fall in the something small and hard of horizontal inscribed board which grandmother put well in advance. Put and shine under the sunshine, will smell the fragrance of the flower. A melon seed, is a soul of a flower originally.
The melon seed is dried, grandmother will stir fry in slow fire until cooked, put in this child’s pocket, put in that child’s pocket. Our childhood is so coming over fragrantly and fragrantly.
Nowadays, grandmother is old, so old that even sunflower can not be planted. In front of the room of native place, the very empty quietness that falls. Under the sky of July, grandmother sits at the gate of institute of old room, sit under the old Chinese scholartree, good eyes are staring at a direction. I think there, will certainly have a on sunflower, inside grandmother’s heart.
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