这段时间气温下降得很快。大风早已把树木吹成光杆，万物活动趋向休止。寒冷中，静下心慢慢品味这个季节，便多了份宽广，多了份辽阔……+在冬天的日子里，不能不想起流逝的往昔，不能不忆起那些难以忘怀的青春懵懂和纯真画面。冬天是一个怀恋过去与畅想未来的季节。冬的意境中，想起那融融的炉火、温暖的阳光和飘舞的雪花。+有句话叫做“大雪封门”，小时候真是那样的。一夜北风紧，大朵大朵的雪花伴着朔风漫天飞扬，村庄静得出奇。第二天早上一开门，积雪漫过门槛，自己便被大人限制在屋里不让出去。屋子是那种厚厚土坯垒的草房，屋里有一盘大大的火炕，炕的前方是土坯垒起来的火炉，炉子的烟经过土炕的炕洞转一遭才从烟囱里排出去，所以坐在炕上热乎乎地极为舒适。将黑黑的炭块投进火炉里发出滋滋啦啦的响声，不多时便燃烧成了红红的炭火，冒着淡蓝色的火苗。我忍不住想屋檐下的冰棱子会不会因此被烟筒里冒出的白烟熏化。炉口上蹲着一只铝壶，发出生生地响声。静谧中听着火炉上水壶的吟唱，从低低浅浅到悠扬婉转，一路从从容容地唱下来，直到水花翻滚，白色的水蒸气袅袅腾腾。那时候最喜欢做的事情就是看炉子，因为可以一边看书，一边烤地瓜、花生。大人们把一锅黏糊糊香喷喷的地瓜汤熬好了，“睡”在炉子底下的地瓜也差不多熟了，吹吹上面的灰，轻轻剥开皮，一股诱人的香飘散开来，就是烤糊了依然香气弥漫……对于我来说，冬天水壶的吟唱就是温暖的炉火，伴着这种声音走来，才叫冬天。
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.
