Osmanthus fragrans are all gone, leaving only golden memories, soaked with the tenderness after the rain, and Wan Li is blue and hazy in the lingering silk. I like to walk alone in such a rainy day, with the streets paved with stone slabs, misty rain, blue bricks and tiles, full of subtle feelings.
That day, I walked on this ancient road as usual, and the breeze blew, and a familiar sweet smell got into my nose. Following the smell, I saw an old woman. She sat on a cane chair, washing something in a small basin. My first impression of her was a plain long sleeve, a plain blue wide-leg trousers, a dark brown headscarf and a dark gray printed apron.
Curious, I took a closer look. The pot was soaked with yellow osmanthus petals. Some rotten osmanthus flowers were picked out and scattered on the ground. After a few minutes, she fished out the petals, put them in a stone mortar and mashed them gently. At this time, she looked up and saw me, not surprised, but smiled warmly: "A person walking here?" I nodded. "Every mid-September, I put a small wooden box under the osmanthus tree to collect fallen flowers. I can collect a lot the next day. I will set up a stall here. If someone passes by, if they are hungry, just buy some." As she spoke, her hand movements didn't stop. She poured water and glutinous rice flour into a small stone pot, stirred it gently, grabbed a handful of sugar and set it on fire.
Time passed quietly between the gentle movements of the old woman, and the fragrance of Osmanthus Jelly became stronger and stronger. With the release of Osmanthus Jelly, the dense atmosphere filled the whole alley. The old woman smiled and handed me a square milky cake with a touch of golden color, a faint scent of osmanthus, mixed with a touch of sweetness, sweet but not greasy, and with a familiar taste, my thoughts could not help drifting back to my childhood-it was autumn, and I was greeted by a large osmanthus forest with a strong osmanthus fragrance. Far away, I saw my grandmother sitting under a osmanthus tree, pounding osmanthus. The rhythmic and aesthetic movements deeply attracted me, and I stood by quietly until my grandmother smiled lovingly, touched my head and gently stuffed Osmanthus Jelly into my mouth. The mouth was full of sweetness unique to osmanthus, and happiness came to my mind ...
I came to my senses and just wanted to pay for it. The old woman waved her hand again and again: "Little girl, don't pay, take a few more pieces home." I stopped refusing, thanked the old lady, turned around and left, and a warm current rose in my heart.
Osmanthus fragrans covered the streets, and the air was full of its fragrance. Smelling the sweet-scented osmanthus fragrance and tasting Osmanthus Jelly, I am filled with emotion: time will always devour the beautiful past, but it can't erase the most silent persistence and deepest human feelings in the world.