South China's Tancheng has a strong sense of spring, and it is a green city when flowers bloom. Feng Ling, a hero with a red heart, blooms, and bougainvillea flowers fascinate tourists. I love the sea of flowers in the south, and I miss the fragrant and elegant fragrance of Sophora japonica in my hometown.
Sophora japonica leaves the tender feelings of late spring to their hometown. The blooming Sophora japonica seems to have covered the yellow land with a white veil, opened on the promontory, and was drunk in the hearts of wanderers.
In April and May in my hometown, the sunshine was a little shy, not as hot as in midsummer. The peach blossoms are gone, and pear flower falls is gone. The acacia trees like snow are refreshing, but it contains a gentle gesture without makeup. However, the bud covered with branches is embedded in a long memory, and the more it is brewed, the more mellow it will always be engraved with the taste of hometown.
The green locust is tall and the willow swallows the new cicada, and the smoking wind is just beginning to enter the string. Every time Sophora japonica is in full bloom, the fragrance is fragrant in the countryside, the breeze blows, and the fragrance in the air comes to the nose, which suddenly dumps everyone and makes them intoxicated. The blossoming Sophora japonica flowers are blooming in clusters, white and flawless, and spectacular. Flowers and bones are stacked in series, dense and as lovely as wind chimes. Green leaves and white flowers are staggered, attracting bees and butterflies to collect honey. When the flower is in bud, it is still a delicate little stamen. When the fragrance is completely dispersed, the Sophora japonica is awakened by the spring breeze, and the yellow floret sticks out its head from the bud, giving the earth a touch of fragrance. At this time, the bud gradually increased, and the color changed from light green to plain white, with white flowers in the evergreen bush and dancing branches and leaves in the spring breeze.
Old memories hide all kinds of worries, and how many flowers are close to the nose in dreams, which is a familiar rural flavor. Flowers bloom and fall in another spring, and the branches of the ancient Sophora japonica in my hometown grow vigorously and luxuriantly. The strong annual rings record the life in circles, and the brand of years has painted mottled marks on the dry bark. Birds fly over the branches and rhyme, refusing to fly away. Perhaps they are intoxicated by the fragrance of Sophora japonica, and the sound of birds awakens the quiet countryside. The Sophora japonica bloomed, and the countryside became restless.
"Let's stroke the Sophora japonica, let's eat the Sophora japonica rice ..." The cries of my childhood relatives and playmates echoed in my ears, and the memory of Sophora japonica seemed like yesterday. It's been three years, and my hometown is only winter and summer, and there is no spring and autumn. Since I came to the south, the environment is different, and I have never enjoyed the beautiful scenery of Sophora japonica in full bloom again.
The flowering period of Sophora japonica is short, and it often becomes delicious on the tip of the tongue as soon as it smiles. If we don't act early, a rain or a wind will strike, and the beauty will die, and the flowers will wither, so there will be no happiness to enjoy this delicious food.
I still remember the scene of picking Sophora japonica when I was a child. At that time, there were many Sophora japonica trees in the village, and a large number of them were picked. Basically, men, women and children all went out in groups. Men made long hooks and picked Sophora japonica with branches and leaves, while women led the children to sit around the trees, sorting Sophora japonica, talking and laughing, happily studying the ingredients of Sophora japonica and thinking about lunch. The children seem to know the joy of harvest, and playfully grab a handful of selected Sophora japonica flowers and stuff them into their mouths. They seem to enjoy squinting their eyes, chewing their mouths carefully, and eating them with a slightly astringent sweetness.
The picking time is usually in the early morning. The air is fresh, the breeze is blowing gently, the sunshine is just right, and the fresh Sophora japonica can be used for lunch. The sun is gradually glaring. Smoke rises in the countryside, and the Sophora japonica rice is cooked at home. The children are looking forward to going home with a smile. Your home is wheat rice, my home is vegetable cake, and his home is Sophora japonica cooking. The same ingredients have evolved into different delicacies, eating Sophora japonica.
After picking, many Sophora japonica flowers were scattered around the tree, and the fallen flowers were deliberately earthy and affectionate, and they lay quietly on the ground to make their final farewell. It is a natural law that flowers bloom and fall. Man-made intervention in the flowering period has made the home of Sophora japonica become homesick on the tip of the tongue. Although Sophora japonica is withered, its fragrance and rural flavor are born, which is deeply imprinted on this family and also touches the hearts of wanderers.
among the osmanthus flowers lingering on campus, Osmanthus fragrans in southern China has a long flowering period and is open all year round. The smell of deja vu wafts in, much like the fragrance of Sophora japonica in my hometown. Looking at the tenderness on the tail of my hometown in spring, my heart is filled with fragrance.