The reverie of Spring [folk art] Solicitation

Picking chrysanthemum under the eastern fence, you can see Nanshan leisurely. This is a kind of artistic conception and also a kind of living condition. Mr. Wu Liu envied his free and easy, and liked the peach blossom garden in his works. Once upon a time, I also imagined a peach blossom garden of my own. It’s funny to say, but it’s always fun to say it. The walls of the cabin will be made of bamboo, the roof will be through the glass to look up at the starry sky, and the floor is wooden to lie or sit on the ground. My Library: There are all the books slowly collected over the years, filled with the faint fragrance of ink, listening to the songs of Tang and Song Poems, singing and scattering the dust. If possible, there is a guzheng under the window, quietly there, looking at it will be full of joy. There is a kitchen: You can also see happiness in tea, rice, oil, salt, sauce and tea. It doesn’t need to be too big and too luxurious. It’s good to hold two people. There is a bedroom: it doesn’t need to be too big, and it is decorated with small ornaments made by hand. They can be not so noble and elegant, but they must be exquisite. They are several calligraphy and paintings, several poems, or some photos, or some fallen leaves. Of course, living room and bathroom are also essential, and there are no special requirements for these two rooms. Rongrubujing, busy see the courthouse blossom; Fate unintentionally, diffuse with outer cloud Cirrus easy. This, we can also. Yishanbangshui, Bridges people. The murmuring streams washed my feet, gently kissed my eyes with dew, and the faint fragrance of flowers wrapped around my skirt. It seemed that there was no change of seasons here. It was like this every day, but I was not bored. In fact, even in the winter of southern China, there is snow. Occasionally there is a snow, which makes me more happy. I can watch the proud snow and red plum, sing and stroll in the wind, Frost, rain and snow, and dance like Catkins flying on the ground without holding hands. On the soft grass, the lazy sunshine blows the warmth of a book, reading a book, or chasing each other, or adding fragrance to red sleeves, or lowering your head to smell the flowers, or at night with the moon, listening to the moon telling The Beautiful Legend in the distance; Listening to the singing of white birds from the nature on the branches of the hillside, unconsciously picking the fruit baskets full; Learning the profound morning and the reason of the wilderness in the vegetable field in the back garden, bring the Moon to return home, be self-sufficient, and weave men and women; Beside the clear stream, the faint aquatic plants around their feet, lower their heads, the clouds and fish on the horizon are playing beautiful, drunk, I have forgotten to say

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