The entrance of "Sichuan-Tibet Line" is Chujiatan. This is a highway along the river. The car didn't go far, so we were attracted by the fog on the river through the window and stopped to look at the river. In the distant building, the trees are suspended in milky fog, as if enchanted by a fairy. The towering green hills are moistened by faint milk, only the green peaks are exposed, and the reflections of green trees and houses are reflected in the river, just like a faint colorless ink painting. On the expressway on the shore, cars shuttle through the clouds, and everything is so hazy and beautiful. Stepping on the trestle across the river, cool and clear water rushed from the upstream reservoir, surging with cold chill, singing high-spirited songs and running down. We blend in and linger. I haven't felt this calm and brave breath for a long time. I have been immersed in books and homework for a long time, and my boring troubles have been swept away.
That night, we lived in a farmhouse called Wangzhuyuan. The tidy yard is clean and the room is tidy. The boss was busy in the kitchen, and soon a table of authentic farm dishes was served. The hot pot was steaming and fragrant. I tasted a piece of meat first, which was delicious. Partners swarmed in, and a table of food was swept away by us. Living in such a farmhouse, the boss's family are hardworking and simple, and they sleep soundly all night. Early in the morning, he was awakened by a rooster. When she woke up, the proprietress had prepared breakfast, porridge, pickles, bamboo shoots and so on, and made another table. After dinner, I went to his house to "treasure hunt". When I was at school, I brought a small cupping pot to warm myself, and a huge water tank to soak bamboo shoots. Everything is so quaint and interesting that it feels like living with my parents when I was a child. The exam was stressful and I lost sleep for a long time. But when I got home, where my parents were, I fell asleep and the pressure suddenly disappeared.
The next day's trip is to visit the red shirt forest. It is called red shirt forest because in autumn, the leaves of Metasequoia glyptostroboides are red and colorful. It's spring, the leaves have just breathed new green, and the trunk stands upright in the water and takes root spiritually. We sat on a bamboo raft and floated on the water, blending in with the surrounding mountains and green waters. According to the boatman, this forest originally grew on the river beach, and later a reservoir was built. They were flooded, but the trees adapted to the environment and still did not die, forming this spectacle in the water. Looking at the roots firmly rooted in the water, I can't help but pay tribute to these tree hearts. Comply with nature and adapt to the environment to survive. If trees are like this, what can people do?
Out of the red shirt forest, it is Qinglong Bay Reservoir. We rode motorboats in the blue waters of the reservoir, enjoying the speed and passion of green spring. I really want to sing a song and express my inner thoughts
Not to mention the beautiful Peach Blossom Lake, the steep eighteen bends in Ling Tao and the beautiful Moon Bay. My favorite is the "Ink Painting Tingxi" in Jingxian County. The car detoured along the winding mountain road. The weather is sunny and sunny, and there are green camellias all the way. The crystal clear stream flows at the foot of the mountain, splashing broken silver and shining in the sun all the way. Several ancient trees leaned out of the stream, and beautiful images were reflected in the stream, or a small stone bridge crossed the stream, which really had the ancient charm of small bridges and flowing water. "Cloak, hat, foot line, I don't know how heavy the fog outside the hole. A stream of bamboo rafts and two cormorants, crossing the peach blossom spring breeze. " The stream lingers quietly in the valley all the way, dotted with ink all the way. We drove to the tea farmers to buy tea, and it took us a long way to find our friend's home. His home is on a tea mountain, an antique tile house and a simple yard. There is a row of azaleas in front of the door. The mountain is full of red azaleas, which seems to be more enthusiastic than others. Just like the people in this mountain, they are always hospitable. There is a neat pile of firewood on the left side of the yard. This yard is so familiar and familiar, and the smell of deja vu reminds me of my childhood hometown yard, and everything is so warm and lovely. After buying tea, the host invited us to dinner, another table of delicious food.
After dinner, I walked around the back hill. There are several towering old trees and red azaleas in front of every house. Tea farmers are picking tea on the mountain, with their heads down, so focused. Pinch off the young leaves one by one, and put a handful in the bamboo basket at the waist. It is said that it takes five catties of fresh leaves to make a catty of new tea. The hard work of these tea farmers can be imagined. Think of Liu Sanjie's tea-picking song: "In March, partridges travel all over the mountains, and in April, rivers flow all over the mountains, and tea-picking girls go to Chashan, and tea songs fly white ..."
When I got home, I opened the tea bag and made tea. A faint fragrance floated in. Several green leaves are suspended in clear water, swaying and floating. Finally, they all slowly fell into the bottom of the cup. After sipping, the fragrance moistened my internal organs. This is the famous "Tingxi Lan Xiang". How many people's meticulous efforts are condensed in each fragrance! This tea fragrance, this misty rain, this beautiful scenery in the south of the Yangtze River, and those warm-hearted friends on the road, like a bright rainbow, are forever engraved in the memory sky.