父亲花20元买回来的那株葡萄,在我们的眼里,只是一株枯藤。看着父亲折腾着搬来一盆盆泥土,将那枯藤小心地栽种在院门口时,母亲在一边讽刺地说:“现在要有火灶,拿你这个引火倒合适。”我笑嘻嘻地说:“没叶没果,不过还有点像盆景……”父亲听到后狠狠瞪了我一眼,我轻轻掩着嘴拉着母亲躲到一边偷乐去了。二楼栅栏里的茉莉花静静地开了,春天如约而至。可是,门口那株枯藤一点动静也没有,像一个坐禅的老僧,对满城春色充耳不闻。邻居们有时站在我家门前闲聊,聊着聊着就拿那株葡萄树和父亲打 His grandson spent 20 yuan to buy back the grapes in our eyes, but a dead cane. Looked at his father tossing to move a basin of potatoes, the cane vine carefully planted in front of the courtyard, the mother side sarcastically said: “Now you have to have a stove, take you this fire appropriate.” I grinning To say: “No leaves no fruit, but still a bit like a bonsai ... ” My father stared at me after a fierce glance, I gently hide her mouth while pulling her mother to steal music. Jasmine on the second floor of the fence quietly opened, as the spring arrived. However, the withered cane at the entrance a little static and dynamic, like a monk sitting meditation, turned a deaf ear to the city of spring. Neighbors sometimes stand in front of my house to chat, chatting and chatting with the vine and his father fight