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第37章 让心灵去旅行13（第1页）

slee，andatlengthawaketothestillrealityofawintermorning。Thesnowlieswarmascottonordownuonthewindowsill；thebroadenedsashandfrostedanesadmitadimandrivatelight，whichenhancesthesnugcheerwithin。Thestillnessofthemorningisimressive。Thefloorcreaksunderourfeetaswemovetowardthewindowtolookabroadthroughsomeclearsaceoverthefields，weseetheroofsstandundertheirsnowburden。Fromtheeavesandfenceshangstalactitesofsnow，andintheyardstandstalagmitescoveringsomeconcealedcore。Thetreesandshrubsrearwhitearmstotheskyoneveryside；andwherewerewallsandfences，weseefantasticformsstretchinginfrolicgambolsacrosstheduskylandscae，asifNaturehadstrewnherfreshdesignsoverthefieldsbynightasmodelsforman’sart。

Silentlyweunlatchthedoor，lettingthedriftfallin，andsteabroadtofacethecuttingair。Alreadythestarshavelostsomeoftheirsarkle，andadull，leadenmistskirtsthehorizon。Aluridbrazenlightintheeastroclaimsthearoachofday，whilethewesternlandscaeisdimandsectralstill，andclothedinasomberTartareanlight，liketheshadowyrealms。Theyareinfernalsoundsonlythatyouhear—thecrowingofcocks，thebarkingofdogs，thechoingofwood，thelowingofkine，allseemtocomefromPluto’sbarnyardandbeyondtheStyx—notforanymelancholytheysuggest，buttheirtwilightbustleistoosolemnandmysteriousforearth。Therecenttracksofthefoxorotter，intheyard，remindusthateachhourofthenightiscrowdedwithevents，andtherimevalnatureisstillworkingandmakingtracksinthesnow。Oeningthegate，wetreadbrisklyalongthelonecountryroad，crunchingthedryandcrisedsnowunderourfeet，orarousedbytheshar，clearcreakofthewoodsled，juststartingforthedistantmarket，fromtheearlyfarmer’sdoor，whereithaslainthesummerlong，dreamingamidthechisandstubble；whilefarthroughthedriftsandowderedwindowsweseethefarmer’searlycandle，likeaaledstar，emittingalonelybeam，asifsomeseverevirtuewereatitsmatinsthere。Andonebyonethesmokesbegintoascendfromthechimneysamidthetreesandsnows。

Wehearthesoundofwoodchoingatthefarmers’doors，faroverthefrozenearth，thebayingofthehouse-dog，andthedistantclarionofthecock—thoughthethinandfrostyairconveysonlythefinerarticlesofsoundtoourears，withshortandsweetvibrations，asthewavessubsidesoonestontheurestandlightestliquids，inwhichgrosssubstancessinktothebottom。Theycomeclearandbell-like，andfromagreaterdistanceinthehorizons，asiftherewerefewerimedimentsthaninsummertomakethemfaintandragged。Thegroundissonorous，likeseasonedwood，andeventheordinaryruralsoundsaremelodious，andthejinglingoftheiceonthetreesissweetandliquid。Thereistheleastossiblemoistureintheatmoshere，allbeingdrieduorcongealed，anditisofsuchextremetenuityandelasticitythatitbecomesasourceofdelight。Thewithdrawnandtenseskyseemsgroinedliketheaislesofacathedral，andtheolishedairsarklesasiftherewerecrystalsoficefloatinginit。AstheywhohaveresidedinGreenlandtellusthatwhenitfreezes“theseasmokeslikeburningturf-land，andafogormistarises，calledfrost-smoke，”whichcuttingsmokefrequentlyraisesblistersonthefaceandhands，andisveryernicioustothehealth。”Butthisure，stingingcoldisanelixirtothelungs，andnotsomuchafrozenmistasacrystallizedmidsummerhaze，refinedandurifiedbycold。

。。。

Inwinter，natureisacabinetofcuriosities，fullofdriedsecimens，intheirnaturalorderandosition。Themeadowsandforestsareahortussiccus。Theleavesandgrassesstanderfectlyressedbytheairwithoutscreworgum，andthebird’snestsarenothungonanartificialtwig，butwheretheybuiltthem。

Butnow，whilewehaveloitered，thecloudshavegatheredagain，andafewstragglingsnowflakesarebeginningtodescend。Fasterandfastertheyfall，shuttingoutthedistantobjectsfromsight。Thesnowfallsoneverywoodandfield，andnocreviceisforgotten；bytheriverandtheond，onthehillandinthevalley。Quadruedsareconfinedtotheircovertsandthebirdssituontheirerchesthiseacefulhour。Thereisnotsomuchsoundasinfairweather，butsilentlyandgraduallyeverysloe，andthegraywallsandfences，andtheolishedice，andthesereleaves，whichwerenotburiedbefore，areconcealed，andthetracksofmenandbeastsarelost。Withsolittleeffortdoesnaturereassertherruleandblotoutthetraceofmen。HearhowHomerhasdescribedthesame：“Thesnowflakesfallthickandfastonawinter’sday。Thewindsarelulled，andthesnowfallsincessant，coveringthetosofthemountains，andthehills，andthelainswherethelotustreegrows，andthecultivatedfields，andtheyarefallingbytheinletsandshoresofthefoamingsea，butaresilentlydissolvedbythewaves。”Thesnowlevelsallthings，andinfoldsthemdeeerinthebosomofnature，as，intheslowsummer，vegetationcreesutotheentablatureofthetemle，andtheturretsofthecastle，andhelshertorevailoverart。

微风缓缓地吹着百叶窗，吹在窗上，非常温柔，像羽毛似的，偶尔也会犹如几声叹息，听起来像夏日漫漫长夜里风轻抚着树叶的声音。在铺着草皮的地下，田鼠正在地洞里呼呼大睡，猫头鹰则在沼泽地深处的一棵空心树里蹲着，兔子、松鼠、狐狸都待在家里。看门的狗静静地躺在暖炉旁，牛羊在栏圈里悄无声息。连大地都在沉睡——但这不是寿终正寝，而是忙碌一年后第一次美美地睡上一觉。夜已经深了，大自然还在忙碌着，只有街上一些招牌或小木屋的门轴不时嘎吱嘎吱地响，给沉寂的大自然带来一点慰藉。也只有这些声音，预示着在茫茫宇宙中，在金星和火星之间，天地万物还有一些是清醒的。我们想起了看似遥远却也许近在心中的“温暖感觉”，还有那些只有天神们在相聚时才能感受到的——一种神圣的鼓舞和难得的交情，而这些对于凡人是不胜苍凉的。大地此刻在酣睡，可是空气还很活跃，鹅毛大雪漫天飞舞，好像是一个北方的五谷女神，正在把她的银种子撒在我们的田野上。

我们也进入了梦乡，等到醒来时，恰是冬季的早晨。世界静悄悄的，雪下了厚厚的一层。窗棂上像铺了柔软的棉花或羽绒，窗格子显得宽了些，玻璃上爬满了冰纹，看起来黯淡而神秘，使家里变得更加温馨舒适。早晨的寂静真令人难忘。我们踏着吱吱作响的地板来到窗口前，站在一块没有结冰的地方，眺望田野风景。屋顶被皑皑的白雪覆盖着，雪冻成的冰条挂在屋檐下和栅栏上；院子里的雪柱像竹笋一样立着，雪柱里有没有藏着什么东西，就无从知晓了；树木和灌木向四面八方伸展着它们白色的枝干；原来是墙壁和篱笆的地方，形态更加奇妙，在昏暗的大地上，它们向左右延伸，似乎在跳跃。仿佛一夜的工夫，大自然就重新设计了一幅田野美景，供人类的艺术家来临摹。

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