李良坤
庚子重陽,秋高氣爽,應(yīng)幾位老友之約,結(jié)伴登龍洞山。相傳龍洞山是唐堯時有孽龍于此興風作浪造成水患,大禹治水,前來提拿,孽龍鉆洞逃去,至今山上留下了深深的洞。
我的家就在龍洞山下,是今年春天搬過來的,聽說10多年前這里還是濟南東南角上的一片寂靜的山村,山下農(nóng)田,山上樹木成林,遠離著市區(qū)喧囂。如今,山下的小區(qū)高樓林立,南二環(huán)上的車輛川流不息,山上也修起了一條條柏油路和健身小道。
我們隨著登山人群向著山里頭走著。爬過一段坡,拐了一個彎,我們走上了一條用大小不一,形態(tài)各異的石板鋪成的路,這條路時斷時續(xù),彎彎曲曲,伸向大山深處。據(jù)當?shù)厝苏f,這段石板路是早年老輩們?yōu)榱松仙叫凶叻奖?,不惜成年累月,一點一點地鋪就而成。望著這條密林中穿過的石板路,我不由地放慢了腳步,腦海中仿佛出現(xiàn)了當年那一幅幅搖籃挑擔,推著獨輪車,肩背褡鏈,扛著锨镢的農(nóng)民群像,多少先輩們就是在這樣的山路上往返奔波,養(yǎng)家糊口,貧窮而頑強地生活著,延續(xù)著……小路上被磨平的石板,默默記錄著這里的歷史,留下一串串無形的人生足跡。
出了樹林,我們遠遠望見了龍洞、一線天和觀景臺,它們在陽光的照射下顯得美麗,壯觀和多姿多彩,我和幾位老友們盡情享受著龍洞山里深秋美景。
老張頭是我們幾位中的老大哥,他喜好喝茶。此時,他從背包里拿出保溫水瓶,擺上了講究的茶具,一會兒的功夫,一杯杯冒著熱氣,飄著醉人香味的信陽毛尖擺在了我們面前。喝著熱騰騰的茶,望著周邊的群山竣嶺,只見漫山遍野的綠色里夾雜著被秋風染紅的楓葉,或淺紅,或深紅,在綠樹黃葉的映襯下,更顯得典雅,美麗,端莊,好像一幅美麗的油畫。我喜歡紅葉,每年我都要摘下幾片紅葉,或放在常翻的書籍里,或輕輕地放在寫字臺的玻璃板下。這時,我放下手中的杯子來到一棵長滿紅葉的樹下,摘下了幾片紅葉。龍洞山上的紅葉大都是黃櫨樹上的葉子,已有些干澀,美則仍美,不過只能遠看,不可近看了。摘下的紅葉已不再鮮活水靈了,而且還有些干枯打卷了,但是它的葉莖卻依然挺拔有勁。是啊,人老了,容貌和體魄不再像當年那樣朝氣蓬勃,意氣風發(fā),但我們應(yīng)該像這片紅葉一樣,時間磨走了年華,卻磨不走我們的精氣神,樂天的氣魄和身心永遠年輕的品格。不過人老了也不可不服老,凡事也要量力而行。
一陣喧鬧聲,驚飛了樹上的鳥兒,原來是一群孩子們在老師的帶領(lǐng)下正登山秋游呢,只見幾個男孩躲在樹后面,給老師玩著捉迷藏,此時我們真想和他們一樣也來一段童趣呵。
看看手機上的時間,己近中午時分,老張頭一邊收拾茶具,一邊對我們說,中午大家一齊到山下的小店涮羊肉吧,大家當然同意了,更何況多日不見,一起喝個小酒,嘮嘮家常,吹吹天南海北,不亦樂乎。
此時,我回首望著龍洞山,這山并不高,它比起眾多的名山名川而言更是無從談起,但它離我們很近,我們可以經(jīng)常來看望它??梢钥隙ǖ卣f,每一次來都會有些不同的感受,不同的收獲。正如清代學(xué)者孫顯衍所說:我游龍洞驚奇絕,畫不成圖口難說。龍洞山雖然是座小山,但它的奇和絕,它的獨到之處卻是很難用語言和畫面來描繪的,只有靠人們慢慢地咀嚼,慢慢的品味和體會了。
The Double Ninth Festival this year was a bright autumn day. I was invited to climb Longdong Mountain with some of my old friends. It is said that there was an evil dragon in Longdong Mountain during Emperor Yao’s time, which caused flood. Then, Emperor Yu came to solve the flood and catch the dragon, but the dragon drilled a hole and escaped. So far, a deep hole has been left in the mountain.
We followed the crowed towards the top of the mountain. We walked on a path paved with stone slabs of different sizes and shapes after climbing a slope and turning a corner. The stone path was tortuous and fragmentary, stretching deep into the mountain. According to the locals, this stone path was paved little by little for years to facilitate walking into the mountain. Staring at the path passing through the dense forest, I slowed down and seemed to see the scene of farmers carrying poles and pushing wheelbarrows with girdles and shovels on their shoulders. Many ancestors ran back and forth on such mountain paths to feed their families, living in poverty and tenacity. The polished stone slabs on the path told the old story there silently, leaving a string of invisible footprints.