Keywords: Moon Old Man's Architectural Landscape Prose Writing
Classification of Prose: Landscape Prose
Composition source:/three articles
A few days ago, I also felt the scenery of the ancient city of Zhang, a "folk Forbidden City". Zhang is surrounded by mountains, winding and beautiful scenery. It is really a land of feng shui.
My friends invited me to the ancient town of Zhangde, which was really a feast for the eyes. At ordinary times, I have only heard of Zhang Guying, the first village in the world, which is known as "Spring Shakes by the Weihe River Bridge, and the clear water is clear and the beautiful sand is shallow". After seeing it with my own eyes, I think it's true. The ancient building covers an area of more than 50,000 square meters, with rigorous and scientific overall structure, unique interior decoration and reasonable drainage system. It is recognized as the "three wonders" in the history of ancient architecture.
We enjoyed the architecture, experienced the simple folk customs, tasted the green food in the mountains, and had a good time.
Because it was my friend's hometown, we stayed there all day. In the evening, some companions are still wandering in the mountains, while several female companions prepare their own dinner.
My friend's house is an independent two-story building, and the kitchen is next to the building. It's an independent bungalow, very spacious, old-fashioned brick stove with three cauldrons above and firewood below. The dishes cooked in the cauldron are delicious, especially the crispy rice, which is very delicious.
Walking into the kitchen, we saw many local specialties: Zhanggu oil tofu, spicy and smooth tofu milk, delicious bacon, sweet and sour jar vegetables, "smoked bamboo" bamboo shoots, fennel powder bumps and bracken, all of which are beautiful enjoyment! The smell in the kitchen is slightly embers of burning straw, and the room is filled with the smell of kitchen smoke. My nose and eyes began to rebel, and tears swirled in my eyes. I waved to my companions and hurried outside to breathe "fresh air" (hehe, maybe it was an excuse to be lazy).
I walked along my friend's house. I didn't go far. I saw an old man sitting in front of his house. This is an old-fashioned house with a hall in the middle and two houses on each side. The old man sat by the door of the hall, smoking a long pipe. I can't help but stop and look into the distance. After he took a few sips, he quickly turned the pipe upside down, knocked on the sole of the coarse cloth, crushed the ash under his feet, then put a small group of raw tobacco leaves into the pipe, stared intently, and snapped again.
I was curious and approached the old man slowly. The decoration in the hall is extremely simple, and the last rays of the sunset are like flowers in full bloom in the hall. The halo gradually moves on the old man's forehead, making the old man look more energetic. At this time, the sunset glow passed by, and the fish belly was as white as black and white on the rural land. The old man's tobacco pouch released diffuse smoke in silence, and the night sneaked into the hut.
I finally came to the old man, who smiled at me kindly and took a small wooden chair for me to sit on. Although I was an unexpected guest, I didn't show any surprise. I think it's probably because this place has become a tourist attraction, and there are often unexpected guests like me. I also smiled at the old man, sat down next to him, and then chatted with him. I chatted with him and watched everything in his family.
I saw the most conspicuous things in the room-two heavy classical rectangular wooden boxes. Vaguely mottled with the halo of the swaying shadow of the moon outside the door, there are two big copper locks on the box surface, with long keys and several teeth on them. These two locks remind me of the carved beams of bamboo households in the ancient mansion, or a pair of big stone lions guarding the house and sticking to their territory.
Seeing that I had been staring at the two locks, the old man seemed to see through my mind and told me the story of the bronze lock. At this time, I found that the faint moonlight lit up the old man's eyes and quietly shone on the old man's face, and the small room also radiated an unusual bright luster.
When talking to me, the old man kept spitting smoke rings at the curved moon, as if he were pouring out his feelings to the moon. The long pipe seems to be endless loneliness.
I saw the old man's eyes full of strange light, and his calloused hands kept stroking the long pipe. How much fullness, calmness, yearning and enjoyment do those hands like bark contain? I don't know.
I mused, maybe the moon is the hometown of the old man and his lonely hometown. There may be a lot of melancholy in the old man's heart, lingering around him, just like the osmanthus tree soaked in tears sticking to the moon. Maybe the old man is waiting for the next full moon!
"Hi, there you are, slacker. My phone is off, so let me look for you everywhere." Suddenly, a loud cry from my friend pulled me back from my dream. It's time for dinner. I gave my friend a few quick smiles, got up and said goodbye to the old man and walked to his home.
The ancient Zhang, the ancient architecture and the quaint mountain style will remain in my heart forever, and the appearance of the old man smoking leisurely at the door of the moon has also been deeply branded in my mind. All this seems to be an ancient legend. like