Wind blows through summer

  I want to write about that distant compound, the short summer in the compound, the marigolds in full bloom in summer, and the time that passed by in a hurry.
  That yard, we call it Yanglu Section Courtyard, every family in the courtyard has two or three or even four or five children, the children gather together, always get together, tied together, the children of this family and The children in that family got into arguments, the boys might wrestle together and settle the matter with blunt and courageous “fights”, the girls hid in firewood piles, or sat on the stone steps and looked at each other Contemptuously looking at the other party, using silence or rolling eyes to express a break with the other party, there are really some who break up and stop talking. Of course, more children get mixed up again within two or three days.
  This is the case with children. The younger children follow behind the older ones, like followers, playing with them, and growing up without knowing it.
  There are several rows of bungalows in the compound, neatly arranged, and each family is divided into two big bungalows, with a combined area of ​​30 to 40 square meters. Some families divide one of the bungalows from the middle, and install a door, It became two small bedrooms. Later, another family built a simple wooden house on the open space in front of the bungalow, which was used as a coal room or a kitchen, and gradually each family had a special kitchen. Later, some people found bamboo or wood to surround their house and kitchen, installed wooden doors, paved a red brick road between the kitchen and the bungalow, and planted flowers and vegetables on the open space on both sides. Many small yards have been formed, and we can grow many vegetables and flowers in the small yards.
  What kind of flowers were planted in the small courtyard? Poppy, we call it silk flower, its flower stems are densely covered with fine fluff, the petals are as soft and light as silk, and the colors are bright, red, pink, yellow, white and other colors, and some petals are inlaid with A layer of white lace, soft and elegant, especially beautiful. There is also the impatiens that little girls like, which we also call henna or henna. The branches and leaves of Henna flower are verdant and green, and the flowers are pink and rose red. We often use Henna flower to wrap nails. Wrap it with big leaves, wrap a handkerchief outside, sleep overnight, and you will have deep purple or orange nails the next day, which is the primary perception of beauty in our era. Poppies, we called them Big Fireworks at that time, were thicker than poppies, with buds and petals one size larger, and the stems and leaves were smooth. At that time, we didn’t know what poppy was. We only knew that every family would keep the poppy seeds and boil water for the children to drink when they had abdominal pain. I remember that I once ate the sun-dried poppy seeds at home, and there was a special fragrance when chewed, which shows that poppy seeds are indeed addictive.
  Numerous purple, pink, white and snow-blue July chrysanthemums are in bloom. This kind of chrysanthemum has tenacious vitality, and it does not need to be deliberately planted, but it germinates and blooms every year. When the chrysanthemums are in full bloom in the yard, I know that the hottest summer is coming, and the summer vacation will follow. There is a kind of orange-yellow flower that looks like a chrysanthemum. I didn’t know it was called calendula after many years. They grow vigorously and vigorously. Almost the whole yard is full of this kind of flowers. I like its bright orange-yellow color. I like its simple and warm appearance, and I like the warm feeling of them standing one after another. Probably because of this kind of flowers, I like the beautiful orange-yellow. The color of this flower is also the color of sunflower, which is even stronger and fuller than sunflower, conveying a bright, warm, positive and upward force to people.
  In those long and boring summers, I carried a small stool and sat in the yard reading a book. The sun was so strong that it almost stopped time. What books could I find? Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales or Grimm’s fairy tales that are almost torn apart, or a book such as “Young Literature and Art”, “Children’s Literature”, and those curled-up comic books that children have read over and over again… These books made me a literary young woman who loves reading and literature. I am stubborn, pure and idealistic. I was hit by the real society over and over again in the later life journey, and I still couldn’t learn to compromise with life. .
  They made my head bleed, made me disheartened, and made me calm and peaceful. I know the feeling of being stabbed in the heart. It turns out that life is not just the ideal beauty and kindness, there are many things we don’t like But there are facts that cannot be changed. Yes, this is the life we ​​ordinary people encounter.
  In the small courtyard, there must be a corner where some crowded vegetables are carefully planted. The hard-working mother took time out to plant some vegetables such as radishes, cabbage, coriander, and green onions in the yard. My brother and I often give them watering. At dusk, water was poured on the ground one by one, the land became moist, the vegetables and flowers became more energetic, the branches, leaves and grass were covered with small water droplets, and the fresh smell of the countryside permeated the small yard. How I like this dusk, watching them dance in the summer breeze after drinking water, watching them whisper happily in the ground, watching the sky darken bit by bit, while the lights in the distance light up. In the night, the special fragrance of coriander floats faintly, and that kind of fragrance often makes me very intoxicated.
  In the summer vacation, the task of cooking is given to me, although I am only 15 years old. I remember that I stir-fry the saozi with vegetables, melons, scallions or eggs and tomatoes, put the noodles one by one in the white water, then put the fried saozi in, and finally grab a handful of coriander from the yard and sprinkle it in. In an instant, ordinary noodles have There is an indescribable fragrance.
  When the coriander grows old, it will bloom small white flowers that are the size of rice grains, and then they will set seeds, so they can no longer be eaten. My mother allows them to bloom and set seeds crazily, letting them grow freely like weeds. Growing, growing the simplest and most simple happiness of that era.
  On the bamboo fence we use to enclose the yard, orange-red carob flowers bloom every summer and autumn. They line up like kindergarten children. bamboo fence. Picking beans is something I like to do. Pick the beans and wash them, cut off the ends, cut into thin strings of beans, fry them with chili, and it is best served with rice.
  One summer vacation, my mother was working on a construction site near the county seat, so I couldn’t go home at noon. I made rice, fried shredded beans, put them in a rice bowl, and walked a long way to deliver meals to my mother. It was the hottest time of the year, the sun was strong, and the wheat fields on both sides of the road were golden. I was walking on the road alone, carrying the rice bowl I brought for my mother. What I don’t know is that since then, I have walked countless roads with sunshine and wind and rain alone. I often want to stop and look at the wheat fields on both sides of the road, at the sky that is intoxicated by blue, and at the little tadpoles swimming in the ditch beside the road. All of these, they have never been ignored and forgotten in my eyes.
  When my mother saw me, she showed a satisfied smile on her tired face, happily ate the meal I sent, and accepted the sincere praise from the aunts who worked together. My mother’s tiredness of working hard under the scorching sun seemed to be completely erased the moment she saw me.
  Summer belongs to the friends who play together every day. In the hot summer vacation, the adults all went to work or worked, and we, the hairy kids, were left to make a lot of noise at home.

  I remember a Japanese TV series “Volleyball Girl” that was broadcast in those years. The heroine Junko Xiaolu became an inspirational star in our minds. We filled our torn schoolbags with waste paper balls, hung them high on the barbed wire fence in the yard, jumped up and hit them with our hands, and shouted lines from the play such as “Meteor chasing the moon” and “A thunderbolt in the clear sky”. The broken schoolbag was knocked over, and the waste paper balls were scattered like flowers, bringing us countless happiness.
  How can there be no popsicles in summer? An aunt pushing a bicycle selling popsicles passed by on the street. A white wooden box was carried on the back seat of the car. When the lid was opened, pink, green, and yellow popsicles were wrapped in thick quilts. They cost 4 cents. One popsicle was carefully licked by us in our hands. I was really reluctant to finish the cool and sweet popsicle all at once. Delicious food needs to be savored slowly. This is what I understood at that time reason.
  There are some poplars and willows in the yard. At that time, the forest species on the plateau were still very monotonous, and there seemed to be few big trees that we could see. I remember that there is an old poplar tree in the middle of the yard. The wrinkled and cracked bark reveals a vigorous sense of age. There are always naughty boys climbing up the tree and hiding in the shade to hide and seek. During meal time, the children will come to the tree with bowls in unanimous agreement, and eat while playing. The rice made by this one, the noodles eaten by that one, Shanghai people’s dinner looks more delicate, Henan people must drink mushy, Shandong people will bake pancakes in the courtyard in the evening, Tianjin people, Zhejiang people… When the children gather together, there is always a lively scene under the big tree. When strangers come, they can tell which children belong to the family just by looking at the bowls served by the children. What a happy and wonderful scene.
  A row of willow trees is planted by the roadside in the innermost part of the yard. Next to the willow trees is a small river ditch, which is a place where children often play. Where there is water and trees, there will be noise from children. Boys like to take out their slingshots to shoot birds, chase mice, and tease cats and dogs. They are always in piles, coming and going roaring. The little girls also like to get together. We dance rubber bands, hit sandbags, play with bones, turn flower ropes in the open space of the compound, and play with different people’s strings almost every day. Of course, we also need to do homework and do housework. Mop and sweep the floor or cook some simple meals while moms come home from work. Time is really fast and slow. Whenever you start doing your homework, the time becomes longer, but when you are playing, time always flies like an arrow.
  Just playing around like this, if we are not careful, our “childhood” will be far away, and we will never come back.
  That summer, there was Teresa Teng’s singing.
  My neighbor sister, who is a few years older than me, likes Teresa Teng’s songs very much, so I like them too. Whenever I go to her house, Teresa Teng’s tapes are playing in the tape recorder.
  ”The small town has many stories, full of joy and joy…” The song has flown for 30 years. The goddess in my mind has always been such a sweet and gentle image. We are all getting old, but she is still young and tender. beautiful.
  I wandered around the small town with my neighbor sister who had finished the college entrance examination. We wandered from the north to the south of the small town, and then walked back to the north from the south. We walked through the golden wheat fields being harvested in Siheji Village, the Tibetan women who bought fruit on the Longwu Old Street, and the ignorant time that day after day. Sometimes we also go to the west mountain where there is a blockhouse to pick mountain dandelion, what a beautiful orange flower, just hidden in the depression of Qinghai alone, lonely and lonely. There are also Malus flowers blooming everywhere, the blue-purple petals are hidden among the branches and leaves. I watched the little ants climb up and wanted to shake them off. Picking a slender Malus leaf, I can blow the clearest whistle in the world Voice. Sometimes, we would also buy a sunflower flower plate and take it home. While listening to Teresa Teng’s singing, we ate melon seeds and chatted. I accompanied my neighbor’s sister to wash clothes under the tap. What a clear water. The clothes flowed down from muddy to clear. I think my initial emotion for water came from such a moment.
  I love water, not just water, I also love sunshine, and all the quiet and beautiful things I can capture when walking in the mountains, they make me grow into the simple and warm me I am today.
  Summer is like this, going away and being reborn in the vague time, summer is like this, with a long and light marigold fragrance. The summer when I was 15 years old was the last summer of my boyhood. After that, I left Qinghai and went to the south of the Yangtze River. When I came back three years later, I had a fenced yard and a garden full of vegetables and flowers. , my teenage years and my neighbor’s sister are no longer what they used to be. We moved into the building, we no longer have the dazzling marigold flowers, we can no longer steal the fruits of poppies, and we can no longer smell the special fragrance of coriander leaves that grow naturally in the yard. Discrete things
  grow old .
  Most of the world is like this. Trees, time, age, and all relationships will change. Only some short-term memories are eternal and beautiful. That is the summer I miss. It is a kind of growth that was given to me when I was 15 years old. sad. Many years later, I realized that life is really one after another parting, leaving a place you are familiar with or someone you once loved, and there are painful and happy memories in the process… It turns out that this It is our growing years that are getting old.

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