教室窗前,生长着一株枸杞,已有好多个年头了。枸杞原本是匍匐在地上的,枝条柔软,却似乎总是憋着一股劲儿,窜生在花坛里的月季花丛间。也不知是谁,用一根线绳将它悬挂在了砖墙上,枸杞仿佛是感激不尽似的,愈发茂盛起来,到现在已有虎口粗细了。每逢仲春,那嫩叶便早早地抽出来,一丛丛,一匝匝,满树的鹅黄泛着光彩,待淡紫的花儿开出来,这绿气就捧上了一层浅浅的紫光,影影绰绰,随风而动。花儿的颜色没有一丝斑驳,纯粹清澈,一如春天阳光的明丽。清晨,教室内孩子们朗声诵读,伴有阵阵清香,兀地让人辨不清是花香,还是书本溢发出来的油墨香了。 Classroom window, growing a wolfberry, for many years. Wolfberry was originally prostrate on the ground, soft branches, it seems always simmering strength, channeling rose in the flower bed between the roses. I do not know who, with a rope hanging it on the brick wall, wolfberry seems to be grateful, more prosperous up to now has a thick tiger’s mouth. Every mid-spring, that young leaves will be pulled out early, a bunch of plexus, a turn, a glowing yellow goose-yellow tree, to be purple flowers out, this green gas to hold a layer of superficial Purple, Ying Yingchao, moving with the wind. The color of flowers without a trace of mottled, pure and clear, as the bright spring sunshine. In the early morning, the children in the classroom read aloud, accompanied by fragrance, Wudi discernment is the flowers, or the ink overflowing from the book.