In the afternoon in the countryside, when the adults are deep in the deep sleep of their siesta, this world completely belongs to the children. There is no signal like the TV, but there is more vivid fun than the screen, waiting for every childhood full of restless qualities.
Afternoon village playground
Just when the adults were lying down to take a nap, we children slipped out of our homes. The village fell silent instantly, except for Zhizhi who was shouting loudly from the tree. We ran to the grain-drying field, and someone proposed to dig out the mud, but no one objected. I squatted on the edge of the field, and I didn't know who was the first to call out, so I dug out the wet mud. The other friends did the same, and didn't care to wipe the mud when it splashed on themselves.
In the distance, the golden-colored rice fields were bent down by the wind, as if they were laughing at our group of monkey-like people. A few old cows were grazing by the stream in limited quantities. Occasionally they raised their heads to look at us, and then lowered their heads. The head continued to eat grass, and we started a competition to see who could knead the mud into a round and round shape. The loser had to steal a chili. A friend lost and picked the smallest chili cautiously. When he came back, his face was red.
The ups and downs of labor
My grandfather took me there on the day we picked watermelons. At that time, I was extremely excited. Then I followed my grandfather into the watermelon garden. The ground was covered with round watermelons, like sleeping babies. Then I picked out the one that I thought was the best. Grandpa looked at it and didn't speak. He just squeezed the melon vine gently with his nails, and the melon cracked, revealing the bright red pulp. Only then did I understand that picking melons has its own way.
In fact, I also do chores around the house, like picking peppers. When I picked it for the first time, I used too much force and the pepper was picked off. However, I tore off a large section of the innocent pepper branch. Grandma said that my attitude was not strict and I didn’t clean well. I looked at the peppers I picked, and suddenly there was a sweetness in my heart. This kind of joy was something I had never felt before.
A test of patience by the stream
The small river in the village is so clear that you can see the bottom. The pebbles on the bottom of the water are clearly visible, and groups of small fish swim happily around. Catching them is not easy and requires a lot of patience. I sat on the shore, holding a simple fishing rod, and did not move for a long time. Those fish were playing leisurely in the water, as if they were deliberately irritating me.
I felt a little discouraged, so I simply threw down the fishing rod, sat down on the ground and looked at the sky. The clouds move slowly, and time flows slowly. Afterwards, I saw my neighbor’s brother walking over with a net bag, and he caught a few small fish in just a few strokes. He said fishing is time-consuming and inefficient, and you have to rely on a net. It turns out that there is not only one way to deal with the problem, but I was too aggressive at that time.
The sweet taste of cooking smoke
With the background of being at my grandpa’s house, I have the deepest affection for making fires. Firewood stoves are still used in rural areas. After burning, the bamboo will be turned into charcoal, and grandparents will collect the charcoal for use in winter. I sat in front of the stove door, added firewood to the stove, and watched the sparks flicker, warming the entire kitchen. That kind of warm feeling cannot be given by the heating in the city.
I remember once in the autumn, my grandfather and I went to the mountains to chop firewood. When we were resting during the trip, he took out a few sweet potatoes from his pocket and dug a pit on the spot to bake them. When they were ripe, they were opened and the aroma went straight towards them. After drilling it through my nostrils, I couldn't help but eager to taste it again when I returned home. However, my grandfather said that the taste of the potatoes baked in the mountains was indeed different from those cooked at home. What he said was correct. The sweet potatoes were especially sweet that day.
The call of dusk
Some children ran wildly in the fields. Those who loved beauty would pick colorful and various flowers, then weave them into garlands and put them on their heads. Their faces were filled with extremely happy expressions, and they were beaming with excitement. After they were tired from running, the village began to echo the voices of the elders: "Go home for dinner!" Once this voice sounded, the children immediately dispersed and ran towards their respective homes.
Once, I told my mother that I wanted to go for a walk in the village with my close friends and come back after playing for a while. My mother said yes and told me not to run too far. However, our play became more and more deviated from the original scope. It was not until it was almost dark that we remembered to go home. On the way, my friend suggested that we go somewhere else to continue playing. I said no, we had to go back. The beautiful moments are always so short. In the end, we still reluctantly returned to our respective homes.
The tranquility of the countryside at night
At night, the TV signal couldn't be picked up, but the adults had their own fun. Some people were playing chess in the yard, some were playing cards, and cheers could be heard from time to time. The children gathered together in groups, listening to my sister-in-law telling about the beautiful scenery of the countryside and the lovely cows and sheep, and listening to my cousin telling about his interesting games. No one was playing with their phones, but the laughter was more real than anything else.
Standing in front of the gate, I was in the state after washing up. At that time, I drank the first water of the morning and felt the cool breeze blowing on my face. Sometimes there was a steady drizzle, washing my mother's little red car parked at the door clean. Rural life presents such a situation. Every morning, you can listen to the rooster crow before getting up. At night, you can still see the stars that you want to see but can't see in the city. Occasionally, there will be meteors streaking across the night sky, creating a beautiful arc. At that moment, I feel that all worries are gone.
Do you have such an unforgettable memory about the countryside? Welcome to share your story in the comment area and click like so that more people can see this innocent beauty!
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