As an ancient tree species, Cinnamomum camphora can be traced back to Carboniferous. As early as the Spring and Autumn Period, "Stone Corner" has: the accumulation of soil will stalk Henan camphor; "Huainanzi" has: seven years after Zhang was born, it can be a boat. It can be seen how camphor tree has come all the way from hundreds of millions of years. Its tenacious vitality and endless reproduction have brought a little peace to today's impetuous environment.
In China, Zhangshu likes to live in the south of the Yangtze River, where there is a huge family, villages, towns, mountains and plains, and children are everywhere. Although camphor tree is not as romantic as acacia, it is not as peaceful as olive tree, as tall and straight as cypress tree and as graceful as willow tree. Nor does it blossom and bear fruit like a fruit tree. But their irreplaceable simplicity, simplicity and natural beauty always remind me of the holiness and persistence of today's price society.
My childhood was an era without fairy tales. Instead, it was the Yue Opera that prevailed in rural areas of Zhejiang. The arrival of the Yue Opera Troupe brought some spiritual food similar to fairy tales to the children. Every time you sing a play, there is always a prelude (commonly known as the day before yesterday), which is usually performed on the first night. All the actors will play the role of "Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea" and hold a grand banquet (to congratulate Queen Huang on her birthday). On the tree, some villagers made peaches from glutinous rice and replaced them with camphor trees. The children were waiting for the play to finish quickly, and then Xiaoxian began to pick peaches and throw them under the stage. When they are thrown, there will be greetings. At this time, the stage began to move, running around to grab peaches. In the end, the Xiantao tree will be smuggled into the hands of some people who are closely related to the troupe, so it seems that the greatest glory in the world will come to him.
Sometimes if you are lucky, you will catch one or two. I will always look at the leaves of Xiantao and Zhangshu carefully. Xiantao is as small and hard as mom's fingers. Peach leaves are neither beautiful nor ugly, but they are dark green, oval and wrinkled. Are they exactly the same as the legendary Xiantao tree? When I think of these things in a blink of an eye, after more than ten years, the living group has faded out of memory. In the black sesame seeds of the book, I picked up the majestic posture of the camphor tree written by Liang Jiangyan, a poet of the Southern Dynasties: Inan has forests, cinnamon, peppers, golden soil, bright cages, thin and wide boards, and a little sadness. Seven years is knowledge, not finished in one day. Gradually, changes are always happening, and my place of residence has been changed to a small town. As the trees of Xiantao in childhood, they always remind me of the existence of memory properly.
On both sides of the street, in the community garden, in those casual roadside corners, I can no longer escape the pressure and pursuit of a language. "Write me down, write me down," I couldn't help it. As the city tree of Taizhou, Cinnamomum camphora has only a history of more than ten years. These little guys are almost ten meters high. More importantly, the crown is spherical and umbrella-shaped, which brings vitality to our town. In the evening, most of the trees are sparrows, and there is always a place to roost, which may also be called an ecological song.
If Amy came 3000 years ago, would she choose a 500-year-old camphor tree to ask me out? Let's do something meaningful together, make a circle of Zhang, put it on my head, and then count the Zhang one by one. Then make some dumplings and stick them on the camphor tree, and point them in red peach color. I really can't forget this humble green. In the night when feelings are extremely scarce, Cinnamomum camphora always stands quietly outside the window, waiting for whom and silently guarding for whom. It understands all the inner calls, but it is only willing to wait quietly like this. At the moment, my uneasy heart is ashamed.
As if the gongs and drums of singing opera sounded, the night began to be endless soft and cordial. Outside the window, the wind is blowing, and in the whisper of camphor trees and wind girls, I once again returned to my childhood without fairy tales.