The soreness of the backpack holding onto the shoulder reminded me of this delayed rush.
The outline of the White Marble stone forest is gradually clear in the dusk, and the corners of the rock stratum are suffused with cold white light, like a group of silent giants guarding the secret of the night. The starry sky photography planned as early as last year was in this stone forest. I once set the time for tonight's galaxy to rise on my calendar, but ultimately lost to the warm blanket at the bedside and my habit of procrastination.
The tripod made a light noise on the gravel ground, and I stood in the seat in my memory - the White Marble platform rounded by wind and rain, facing the most dense peak cluster in the stone forest. The mountain breeze swept over my ears with the coolness of pine needles. At the moment when the Milky Way should have climbed up the mountain ridge, the sky was only adorned with sparse stars, like a spilled silver box, scattered and disorganized.
Turn on the camera for long exposure, and the stone forest on the display screen is immersed in a light blue night sky, with the texture of the rock layers faintly visible in the dim light. The Milky Way trajectory marked during last year's route planning is now hidden behind clouds, with only half of the handle of the Big Dipper visible, like a jade hairpin broken by someone. The chirping of insects in the grass suddenly became dense, as if mocking me for dragging 'leave as soon as I say' into 'regret deeply'.
Fingertips caressed the cold stone surface, and the quartz sand in the rock layer shimmered under the light of a mobile phone, like scattered stars. I simply put away my camera and lay on the stone platform, the wind carrying the tinkling sound of a distant stream, and occasionally shooting stars trailing their tails across the night sky. Although we didn't expect the dazzling galaxy, the night in the stone forest has its own tenderness - such as the clear dew seeping out from the cracks in the rock layers, the occasional night bird wings flying over our heads, and the secretly made promise for next year in our hearts at this moment.
When I got up, I pressed a withered leaf on the stone as a sign for myself next year. Some scenery can only be encountered with sincerity.