Beautiful Countryside: Bijiu Early Spring
Written and Photographed by Wang Xin Ying
Early Spring of Bijiu
The spring in Bijiu begins with the confluence of the Bailong River and Baili River. Sunlight shines on the winding river, and the colors of spring become increasingly vibrant. A gentle breeze caresses the willows along the riverbank, and a sea of lush greenery surges forward, creating shimmering ripples, as if a young girl's shy words, a spring heart quietly stirred in the warm spring, crossing the gorge without a sound, flowing forward endlessly.
The mountains seemed to stir, but couldn't compete with the plants hurrying along. Perhaps they were even more dilapidated. In the foothills of the town, fields of golden rapeseed flowers shimmered, adding colorful hems to the mountains, and the farmhouses and thatches scattered among the ridges stood silently in time, peaceful and harmonious, inviting longing.
In the mysterious night of Bijiu Town, a warm wind brushed against the faces of the foreign visitors, bringing warmth and comfort – it was the breath of spring, making us light on foot and happy in heart, the heavy cotton clothes seemed superfluous at this time. Short sleeves and long skirts were the best attire.
In the morning, looking out the window, I found that the surrounding small town had regained its splendor after a makeover, and the mountains in sight were full of spring: the grass was green, the flowers were blooming, the soil was soft, and all things reproduced and flourished in the simplest, most natural way, seemingly telling us that this land was different from its past years.
Wind and rain, like a pair of exquisite hands, sometimes light, sometimes dark, depicting the beauty of spring. Light red and soft green silently brewed a grand floral spectacle. Clusters of white orchids, peach blossoms, and pear blossoms couldn't help but lift their heads and look eagerly between the branches and leaves.
The wind became lighter and softer, warm and intoxicating; the water became clearer and gentler, flowing joyfully into the distance. Birds flew across the sky from time to time, their graceful silhouettes sweeping across the fields, and clear, melodious calls echoed in series of tunes. The cherry blossoms in Wudu were gradually fading, and the cherry blossoms were already a scene of 'small buds hidden in several points of red'; if it rained 'sometimes three or two points', it would 'everywhere ten branches five branches' bloom.
With a turn of the body, and not enough time to look around, the Bijiu basin's fields suddenly became clear and bright in a few days. Those clouds and mist lingering along the mountain ridges and riverbanks conveyed information about spring. From afar, their faces couldn't be seen, but it made people's hearts intoxicated. The wheat seedlings in the field donned fresh green, and the primroses bloomed repeatedly in the increasingly full breeze.
As the days passed, I couldn't help but feel: life is a hurried passerby in time, and the years have added another stroke to our lives without knowing it. Suddenly, I realized that the figure of spring was everywhere, and we were all yearning for spring, moving towards the things in spring…
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