這段時間氣溫下降得很快晰洒。大風早已把樹木吹成光桿，萬物活動趨向休止啥箭。寒冷中谍珊，靜下心慢慢品味這個季節(jié)，便多了份寬廣急侥，多了份遼闊……+在冬天的日子里砌滞，不能不想起流逝的往昔，不能不憶起那些難以忘懷的青春懵懂和純真畫面缆巧。冬天是一個懷戀過去與暢想未來的季節(jié)布持。冬的意境中，想起那融融的爐火陕悬、溫暖的陽光和飄舞的雪花题暖。+有句話叫做“大雪封門”，小時候真是那樣的捉超。一夜北風緊胧卤，大朵大朵的雪花伴著朔風漫天飛揚，村莊靜得出奇拼岳。第二天早上一開門枝誊，積雪漫過門檻，自己便被大人限制在屋里不讓出去惜纸。屋子是那種厚厚土坯壘的草房叶撒，屋里有一盤大大的火炕，炕的前方是土坯壘起來的火爐耐版，爐子的煙經(jīng)過土炕的炕洞轉(zhuǎn)一遭才從煙囪里排出去祠够，所以坐在炕上熱乎乎地極為舒適。將黑黑的炭塊投進火爐里發(fā)出滋滋啦啦的響聲粪牲，不多時便燃燒成了紅紅的炭火古瓤，冒著淡藍色的火苗。我忍不住想屋檐下的冰棱子會不會因此被煙筒里冒出的白煙熏化。爐口上蹲著一只鋁壺落君，發(fā)出生生地響聲穿香。靜謐中聽著火爐上水壺的吟唱，從低低淺淺到悠揚婉轉(zhuǎn)绎速，一路從從容容地唱下來皮获，直到水花翻滾，白色的水蒸氣裊裊騰騰纹冤。那時候最喜歡做的事情就是看爐子魔市，因為可以一邊看書，一邊烤地瓜赵哲、花生待德。大人們把一鍋黏糊糊香噴噴的地瓜湯熬好了，“睡”在爐子底下的地瓜也差不多熟了枫夺，吹吹上面的灰将宪，輕輕剝開皮，一股誘人的香飄散開來橡庞，就是烤糊了依然香氣彌漫……對于我來說较坛，冬天水壺的吟唱就是溫暖的爐火，伴著這種聲音走來扒最，才叫冬天丑勤。
The temperature is dropping fast these days. The wind has already blown the trees into bare rods, and all the activities of the world tend to cease. In the cold, calm down slowly taste this season, it is more broad, more broad... + in the winter days, can not but think of the past, can not but remember those unforgettable youth and Innocence Picture. Winter is a season to remember the past and dream of the future. Winter in the mood, think of the melting furnace, warm sunshine and dancing snow. There is a saying called “The snow closed the door”, it was really like that when I was a child. A night north wind tight, large snowflakes accompanied by the wind blowing in the sky, the village was surprisingly quiet. When the door was opened the next morning, the snow covered the threshold, and he was confined to his room. The room was one of those thatched houses with thick adobe. In front of it was a stove made of adobe bricks. The smoke of the stove passed through the hole of the adobe bricks before being discharged from the chimney, so it is very comfortable to sit on the Kang. The black charcoal into the furnace issued a sizzling sound, and soon burned into a red charcoal fire, out of the light blue flame. I couldn’t help but wonder if the ice under the eaves would be sodden by the white smoke from the chimney. Squatting on the mouth of an aluminum pot, the birth of the sound. Listening to the kettle on the stove in silence, from low to melodious singing, all the way calmly down, until the water spray billow, white steam curl. At that time, the most favorite thing to do is to look at the stove, because you can read while baking sweet potatoes, peanuts. Adults cooked a pot of sticky sweet potato soup, “Sleep”in the stove under the sweet potato is almost cooked, blowing the dust above, gently peel, a tempting fragrance spread, is still burning incense filled with burning... for me, the winter kettle singing is a warm fire, accompanied by such a sound, just called winter.
