Liang Heng s prose content .

Summer sense. Filling the summer is a tense, passionate, and exciting melody. It was as if a pot of cold water on the stove was gradually bubbling and bubbling until it finally boiled, and the fine grass on the hillside gradually grew into a dense thick hair, and the faint green smoke on the forest belt condensed into a long wall of dark colors.

Flying bee butterflies are rare, but in exchange for annoying cicadas. A long chirp among the underlying leaves. The fiery red sun baked a golden earth, and the waves of wheat rolled, beating the distant mountains, the clouds in the sky, and the cars on the road, like the waves of the sea surging with ships.

Gold reigns supreme in the world, and the hot wind floats across the fields, blowing the aroma of ripe wheat. After half a year of accumulation, the spirit of spring has become a majestic momentum, rolling on the fields and rising between heaven and earth. Summer is here.

The colors of summer are golden. From a painter's point of view, there is some truth to this. The color of spring is cold green, such as blue waves, such as tender bamboo, full of hope; The color of autumn is hot red, like the sunset, like red leaves, marking the ultimate of things.

In summer, when the spring blossoms and autumn fruits, it is natural to respond to this neutral yellow, the harvest has been and the hope is not over, it is a peak season for the past and the future, and the alternation of life. You see, the wheat has just been cut, and the cotton seedlings in the fields carrying seven or eight green leaves, the sorghum and corn holding the trumpets in the sky, and the melon seedlings crawling forward on the ground are all bursting with vigorous vitality. At this time, they are no longer in the spring breeze and light rain, but under the steaming of the summer, vigorously and vigorously making the final sprint to the end of autumn.

The melody of summer is tense, and every nerve of people is tense. You see the sickle-wielding peasants in the fields, bent over, sweating, just thinking about quick cutting, quick cutting; Maizi came on the field, and thought about it again, and he wanted to fight, fight. It's hard enough for them to get up early and go to bed late, and they wake up in the middle of the night to listen to the window paper, but the wind is blowing; Look out the window, the sky is covered with clouds.

When the wheat is finished, it's time to breathe a sigh of relief, and you have to hurry up and top dressing and watering the autumn seedlings. "The Tian family has few idle months, and people are busy in May", they carry spring and autumn on their shoulders.

It is a pity that the literati of the past dynasties do not know how many spring flowers and autumn moons have written, but there are very few shadows of summer. Probably, the spring dissolves, and the autumn waves are surging; And the summer is always soaked in bitter sweat. People who have leisure and leisure naturally don't like this tense melody.

But I want to shout out this ** summer between spring and autumn.

Liang Heng's Prose Collection (Midu).

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