一我看到他坐在我面前的时候,是本想叫一声大伯的,可当我询问了他的年龄,被他的回答惊了一下。他说自己才58岁,但58岁的他,已是一脸皱纹,满头雪霜。他是我们遇到的第一个林场工人,他那粗壮的手腕手背上青筋涨满,恰似无声的语言,诉说着长年累月植树、养树、护树的艰辛。而热切、沉稳的目光,则洋溢着林业工人特有的自豪与执著,感染着在场的每一个人。在后来的各地林场,我经常会看到这样一些人,他们从不主动和人讲话,坐在离我们略远的角落,显得有些拘束、沉默。就像所有的语言都让林涛给占去了,只剩山样的沉静,山样的性格。然而,一旦步入森林,他们就又目光炯炯,谈笑有声,仿佛变成了快活的百灵,有山歌的吟唱 When I saw him sitting in front of me, I wanted to call Uncle, but when I asked him about his age, I was scared by his reply. He said he was 58 years old, but 58-year-old, he is wrinkled, covered with snow frost. He was the first forest farmer we met. His thick wrist was full of blue veins on his back, just like a silent language, telling the hardships of planting trees, raising trees and protecting trees for many years. The eager, steady eyes, then filled with the unique forestry workers proud and persistent, infected with everyone present. In the subsequent forest farms, I often see such people, they never take the initiative to speak with people, sitting slightly farther away from us, it seems a bit restrained and silent. Like all languages ​​let Lin Tao to account for, leaving only the mountain-like quiet, mountain-like character. However, once they walked into the forest, they looked bright again and laughed loud and clear, as if they had become merry larks and folk songs