“草是会开花的。”不知从什么地方听到过这句话。小时候,爬上外婆家后院高高的山坡,在鲜花和不知名的野草疯长的山坡上打滚。在静默的、疯长的一片绿里,顽皮地用手去翻开野草的叶片,里面竟有花。小小的、洁白的花,不为人知地躲藏在无名的野草中,却那般灿若星辰。我摘下花跑过去拿给母亲看,她笑着摸摸我的头,声 “Grass is blooming. ” I do not know where I heard this sentence. As a kid, climb the tall slopes of the grandmother’s backyard and roll on the soaring hillsides of flowers and the unknown weeds. In the silent, soaring a green, playful hands to open the leaves of wild grass, there actually had flowers. Small, white flowers, unknown to hide in the nameless weeds, but it is so bright if the stars. I took the flower ran to the mother to see, she smiled and touched my head, sound