Spring breeze prose

As the solar term approaches, the weather suddenly gets warmer. Especially in the afternoon, the warm sunshine shines on the earth, and the heating in the house is redundant. Wearing winter clothes on your body, summer heat bursts, followed by an irresistible impulse to get close to nature. So I wandered out of the village.

There are bursts of spring breeze on the face, and no one will be annoyed. This is the breeze, and the noodles are not chilling. The spring breeze gently brushed my cheek. In this soft and thin early spring season, spring clothes are worn for the first time, and everything is immersed in the embrace of spring breeze. A wisp of wind gently blew into my clothes, and my hot heart suddenly cooled, and I felt as light as a swan. Another spring breeze man combed my hair, just like my mother's hand stroking me. I closed my eyes and saw my mother's kind smile and tall figure. That year, I was admitted to the top class of grade three in the village and went to school in my hometown five kilometers away from home. Every morning, my mother always gets up before dawn to cook, and wakes me up when the meal is almost ready. After I finish eating, my mother always helps me push my bike and take me to the intersection. She didn't go home for dinner until she watched me go far by bike.

After more than two months, the weather is getting colder and colder. I live on campus, but when I go home every Saturday afternoon, my mother always stands at the intersection and waits for me. Once, the northwest wind was very strong, and it was against the wind to go home. Even if I lean forward and almost touch the handlebar, my legs are stiff and I keep staring at the car, it is inevitable to get off and walk. It was already dark when I stumbled to the entrance of the village, and I vaguely saw a man standing at the intersection. When I looked closer, it turned out to be my mother, and tears suddenly blurred my eyes.

A year later, I was admitted to a normal school and went to study in a different place for more than 100 kilometers. It was a semester. I heard from my neighbor's aunt that my mother would stand at the intersection every Saturday afternoon for a long time after I left. "Who are you waiting for?" People always ask curiously. "I ... I didn't wait for anyone, I just stood ..." My mother faltered. She knew that she couldn't wait for her daughter, who was hundreds of miles away, to go home, and she could only express her thoughts for her distant daughter in this unique way.

Today, my mother is seventy years old. Her tall figure is no longer straight, and her work is not as clean as before. But whenever we hear that my sister will go back at the weekend, she will always put down her endless knitting work and wait for us at the intersection. From home to the intersection, my mother accompanied me through countless times. Now, I have to accompany my mother to measure again and again. As long as my mother is on the road beside me, I will always be bathed in the warmth like spring breeze, whether it is hot or cold.

Two girls met. "teacher!" "Hello, teacher!" They scrambled to say hello to me. These are two college freshmen. They still twittered around me like they did in elementary school, and began to talk about their college experiences and evaluate lecturers and professors in universities. I can see them in my mind when they graduated from primary school. One has a ponytail and the other has short sports hair. They were twelve years old that year. "Tingting curled up/kloc-more than 0/3 days, cardamom in early February." Are they the girls whose spring breeze is not as good as yours written by Du Mu (the ancients said that they lived in vain)? No, absolutely not! At that time, they were not as graceful and versatile as Jiangnan girls. They are as simple as the wind blowing through the fields in spring. As long as I can see them, the fatigue of work and the trivial troubles of my family will suddenly disappear.

How lucky I am to choose a career that is accompanied by spring breeze every day. I can't count how many hairy children with runny noses I have watched grow into elegant girls and strong teenagers, but I really like my career. These boys and girls like the spring breeze.

When I came back from a walk, it was 5: 20 p.m.-May 20th, when Mr. Libo was more abundant. I turned on my mobile phone on time. Blog is a poem that has been silent for 300 years and became popular overnight. Click on the link, and the air is filled with teacher Li's spring-like voice: "The day is not everywhere, and youth has just arrived." Moss flowers are as small as rice and open like peonies. "This is a five-character quatrain written by Yuan Mei, a famous poet and essayist in Qing Dynasty. On the surface, it is about lichen: living in a dark and humid place, where the sun can't shine and the spring breeze can't blow, but it doesn't feel inferior, but tries to bloom flowers the size of rice grains (this is of course the author's imagination, in fact, lichen is a lower plant and doesn't bloom), showing its love for spring.

In fact, Yuan Mei expressed his love for life through moss. In the 14th year of Qianlong (1749), when his father died of illness, Yuan Mei went home to adopt his mother and bought Suiyuan (the Grand View Garden written by Cao Xueqin) with 300 gold. He built houses, opened ponds, raised fish, planted flowers, built bridges and repaired platforms in the yard ... He devoted himself to "accompanying the garden". In order to let more tourists enjoy the scenery in the park, "Suiyuan" has no wall, allowing tourists to walk freely. "Let the crane go to the mountains to look for birds, and let anyone see flowers at four o'clock." Yuan Mei is no longer willing to leave this "fate" that makes countless people linger. He was born as a "master with the garden", leaving behind a number of valuable cultural heritages such as Poems with the Garden and Recipes with the Garden. Bury a corner of Suiyuan, and he will always witness every spring in Suiyuan.

In fact, I first learned Yuan Mei's name in a junior high school text. Yuan Mei borrowed books from a scholar named Huang, recalling that his family was poor and he couldn't afford books, but he studied hard by borrowing books and copying books, and eventually became a scholar in high school. Now that we have a room full of books, we seldom go to study. Then we clarify the truth that "books should not be borrowed or read", and encourage young people to read more books, aspire to success, cultivate self-cultivation, and rule the country and the world.

I first learned about Suiyuan on Li's blog. The picture is very beautiful. A corner of the red building is hidden in the wintersweet, bright red and dazzling yellow. Teacher Li is lucky to work in Suiyuan. Suiyuan has the honor of cultivating a generation of cultural celebrities. As a loyal "litchi", I followed Mr. Li all the way from the lecture hall, to the online "Libo Open Class", and then to the "most beautiful love poems of the ages" and "famous poems" of Himalayan FM, but what I like best are Mr. Li's two topics in Himalayan: the first-grade and seventh-grade enlightenment classes of Chinese. A university professor, why do you want to study primary and junior high school courses? In Li's own words, mother tongue education is too important; In my understanding, that is the teacher's love for words. Every time in the dead of night, I am bathed in the teacher's magnetic voice through the optical cable signal. I feel that I can receive a seed of enlightenment from Teacher Li, spread it, let it sprout, take root, grow leaves and blossom in the soil of primary education, be a primary school Chinese teacher, be a communicator, and let more children like the language of the motherland. It is also a happiness and responsibility.

One hundred and a half years have passed, and there are more and more silver hairs on the temples.

I am as small as moss, and the spring breeze is dancing everywhere.

Peony and moss will be in full bloom in the spring breeze, and I am looking forward to a prosperous spring.