Lu Xun said: "There was no road in the world, and when more people walked, it became a road." There will be roads in places where there are people, and later generations have gone further by the roads that predecessors have walked, which means a state of life.

People walk on all roads. What you want is the "wealth path" for money, and what you want to be an official is the "faith path". No matter what path, it is connected to the world. In my life, I don't seek "wealth" or "faith", I just want to be in a happy mood, find my own fun, and live a healthy life.

Every morning or evening, I walk without a goal. Occasionally, I try to walk to a rather secluded and narrow red brick road in the countryside, which is quiet, flat, with scenery, and winding paths. Years of practice have proved that the right way I chose to take a walk. I walk alone quietly, year after year, leaving a series of footprints. Walking on the path is lonely, and with loneliness, it gives people the inspiration for imagination and wisdom. Loneliness is a kind of beauty, and loneliness is even more a kind of mood.

Each path leads to farmhouses, fields, fruity gardens, and gurgling canals... The path is at your feet, and your thoughts are floating far away. The path is winding, like the confusion of a dream and the yearning of a bright moon. The wonder of the path is due to the trampling of people, waiting for the nourishment of people and nature.

"I always remember the sunset of the stream pavilion, and I was intoxicated and didn't know the way home," Li Qingzhao's moving words and phrases, on the unobtrusive country road, beautiful oil paintings were presented to me. They made me think and create many articles with imagination vitality and relaxed and unique way of thinking. The beautiful environment in the suburbs stretched into the distance, and I walked alone on the path, and everything around me became broad and broad. I fantasized this road as the outskirts of Paris, learning from the old man Rousseau who was walking alone, while picking wild flowers on the roadside, while quietly experiencing it, capturing the writing materials and the feelings of nature. The breeze accompanied by thoughts, and the grass and trees on the roadside were all language, birds sing and flowers, endless imagination, and the scenery was filled with emotions, and the creativity and inspiration were sprouted. My life experience and literary creation were all born in the space of the path.

I like loneliness, and I prefer loneliness, which is related to my personality. I choose to stay away from the noisy crowd, gradually drifting away, and get used to the familiar path. It copies the prosperity and reincarnation of the four seasons, which makes me deeply feel it.

In spring, the path is beautiful. Accompanied by the flying swallows cut willows, facing the warm spring breeze, the brilliant cauliflowers are plated with golden faces, making butterflies dance with long love, and bringing the dream of Liang Zhu turning into butterflies on the path. Bees are busy shuttled, hard to pick cold pollen, and brewing love nectar. The season allows me to understand the spring green. In the intoxication of the apricot and the red willow green, listen to the crisp sound of the birds singing among the branches. Walking along the path, the roadside is full of vitality and warming the desolate steps. The roadside is full of wild flowers, and it is indescribable exquisite and beautiful

It blooms seriously but not sloppy, stretches the tender leaves freely, giving me a fresh vein, giving me a vivid temptation and image. The quiet and tidy courtyard beside the road, the pink morning glory covered with fences, clustered with vines and stretched quietly, tender and soft, filled with the intoxicating fragrance of flowers. The edges of the flowers are dark pink, as charming as a woman who has just been painted with rouge, with a beautiful blush on her face, which looks beautiful and radiant, bringing surprises to those passing by. I am also guessing in my heart that the hostess of the yard must be a hospitality and extremely beautiful woman.

Leaving the bustling streets, waving away the irritable heat, the quiet path, the spring is flooding, the continuous village houses, the swaying fruit forests, the curling smoke of cooking stoves, the crisp and pleasant dog barking and bird singing, form a beautiful pastoral picture, forming a wonderful melody of life, the path looks even more charming, infinite vitality, and fills my heart with peace and harmony.

In summer, the path is fragrant. The morning dew holds up beautiful wild flowers, whispers together, and the path becomes lively. Walking in the oxygen bar of nature, taking a deep breath of fresh air with the aroma of earth, I feel relaxed and comfortable, which makes me understand the poetic morning. The green green gauze tent on the roadside, the buds are rustling, and the birds and various insects are singing far and near. The plums in the orchard are ripe, and the melon sheds are wafting in the distance, and the sweetness of fragrance comes from the melon shed, which not only reminds me of children.

Teacher Nian talked about the allusion under the melon fields: "You can't carry shoes on the melon fields, and you can't pick your hats under the plum trees, and you want to avoid suspicion." The green vegetable fields are crisscrossed, and bitter ruca, chard, and dandelions grow on the pond ridges of the vegetable fields, like a colorful flower belt. I stopped, looked at the beauty of the flowers and smelled the fragrance of the flowers. The traces of the memories of the quiet road are unique to the familiarity I have been exploring, and sometimes they become so strange. I have also had the melancholy of "no way out of the mountains and rivers", and the comfort of "a village with dark willows and flowers brighten".

In the morning path, the sunlight is like orange wine, poured into a transparent jade cup. The air is like water, exuding a fresh smell of grass and earthy smell. The big branches and leaves on both sides close the sun, and the fire of summer is less in the shade. The green is dancing for athletes, cicadas sing birds, and the soft soil exudes fragrance. In the fresh environment, I feel comfortable and comfortable. The quiet path allows me to carefully measure the infinite excitement. After the dusk, the breeze and the moon are bright, and the quiet path is only my breathing and footsteps. The pastoral cicadas sing for frogs on the croaking in the summer night, allowing me to enjoy the unique night fun.

In autumn, the path is singing happily. Walking by the ridge, my heart is full of fruit, which makes me realize the fruit of harvest. The northern geese fly south, leaving a touch of setting sun chasing the clouds. I take the sunset of the evening to chase the evening, leaving a lonely back, left behind on the small road in the countryside.

The charming autumn colors lie in appreciation; the emotions of thoughts lie in mobilization. The wind blows the leaves and dances, and the path passes through the years of the four seasons, leaving my dense footprints. There are many vegetables parked in the vegetable shed beside the road. The countryside is no longer a life of sunrise or resting at sunset. Vegetable farmers are busy weighing fresh vegetables and loading them with trucks. They take a stack of banknotes from the vegetable vendors. They feel indescribable joy in their hearts and smiles with happy faces. The fields are covered with red and golden colors. The heavy red sorghum, the bent golden ears of grain, and the round soybeans sway the real charm in the autumn wind. They are filled with the mood of harvest, the new inspiration, and the hearts are filled with hearts.

People say that autumn is a sad and lonely season, and it is also a portrayal of the artistic conception of the prosperity and desolation of life. Since ancient times, literati lamented that life is cool and written vividly. Li Bai's "The cold oranges and oranges, the autumn colors are old sycamore." Jia Dao's "Autumn wind blows on the Wei River, and the fallen leaves fill Chang'an." But I see the autumn full of life, and feel that autumn is more like a mature woman, graceful, elegant, shy... Although it moves from maturity to aging, I love her nobleness and rigor from the bottom of my heart. I don't like gentle spring, nor do I like the hot summer, nor do I like calm winter, but the sacred and maturity of autumn makes me smell the taste of happiness and joy. The beautiful path of reincarnation in the four seasons is full of my life. Even if autumn is already falling leaves, it is still beautiful.

In winter, the path is deep. Snowflakes are flying all over the sky, making the path white. The cold wind still cannot stop me from walking. From a distance, the white trees and white roofs all seem so dreamy. The path is winding and endless, and nothing is present in front of me except white. Except for leaving a row of long footprints, everything seems so dreamy. An agricultural vehicle drove by me, leaving two marks of ruts, like a long snow ladder, lifting the path towards the clouds of the ice. The soul of winter, the image of cold, and the language of snow repeatedly covers the exposed skin of the path, and the sky is silver, creating a rare and peaceful freehand painting. Browse the different snow scenes along the road, measure the length of life under my feet, experience, understand, and be at ease in every deep footprint.

The road is long and arduous, and I will search up and down." The road of nature has straightness and bends; the road of life has ditches and ravines, wide and flat. Which road is your own choice. When the road of life reaches the end, when you look back, do you have any regrets about the road you have walked? Is there still the joy of "the old road in the green mountains is there, and I am drunk back home after my old age"?

The path is the prelude to life. The depth of memory leaves a deep emotion. Walking alone on the country road, one flower, one vine, one branch, one leaf, one bird, one song, like my unrestrained words, written clearly, thoroughly and neatly. Breathe fresh air, calm your irritability, find a tranquility and harmony, embrace a closeness and nature, and find a simplicity and return.

The path is a magnificent dream. The long figure of the setting sun, the sunset glow with a smile, stays on the familiar path, drunk in the glorious years. The quiet and beautiful road is a beautiful encounter in spring; the fragrant appointment of summer; the happy hope of autumn; the rigorous dream of winter. Experience the elegance of rain in the four seasons, the free and easy wind, and the lightness of snow, I have walked back and forth, and the clear footprints have witnessed my simple, quiet, leisurely life.

The ordinary path actually hides beautiful memories, contains lingering love, and the dream of longing. I like the feeling of the suburbs and the feeling even more.

Open yourself and see it is true. Isn’t it? Some drizzle and some blurry flowing in life, endlessly. Rain is just rain that wets autumn. The days are a little cold, lonely. Sitting and lying alone. Who? Draw summer flowers. Who? Write autumn shadows. Listen to the story of a lotus on the street, crows, or bamboo flutes, and a bunch of souls. It’s nothing more than a house.
Chapter completed!