White swan, white swan, bend your neck and breathe fire into the sky.
White feathers, floating in green water; The red soles of the feet stir the clear water.
Seven-year-old Luo saw several white geese swimming in the pond. At the request of the guests, he improvised this poem. Lively tone, careful observation, all show the style of a child prodigy. In the childhood after 1970s, Wang's Ode to Goose was a must-read for primary school students.
In my childhood after 70, I was accompanied by cartoons such as Flower Fairy, Clever Rest and Black Cat Sheriff, and I was never alone. I always wanted to grow up quickly when I was a child. I no longer need to be bound by my parents and teachers all day, so I have more freedom and can do whatever I want.
At that time, there were no CDs, no computers, no flat screens, and no endless TVs. Many people don't have a TV at home, so they learn good songs by listening to the radio. Do you still remember your childhood summer vacation? Those days when I picked up a small bench and waited for the trumpet broadcast?
After 70' s childhood, I went to school by myself and went home from school by myself. My parents never came to pick me up. Take a walk with friends every day, cross a country road full of crops and go to other villages to go to school. It is raining. Take off your coat and cover your schoolbag. I would rather get wet than protect my beloved schoolbag.
Finish your homework and go to work in the fields. A five-cent popsicle is the most delicious snack. One comic book after another has been rummaged through and read with relish. A dime pencil has been used until it can't be squeezed, so I can't bear to throw it.
Do you remember? Hopping houses, throwing sandbags and bungee jumping are games that everyone likes. What I admired most at that time was to have a rest, sit there and meditate for a few minutes, and then I could come up with a wonderful plan.
At that time, there was no asphalt road in the small village, but there was a small river flowing by the village. The willow trees on the dam were shaded, and many lovely mushrooms would grow after the rain. Small ponds are everywhere. When night falls, frogs begin to sing.
In spring, friends break tender willow branches and let the willow whistle. Then weave straw hats and flower baskets with a few willow branches. Willow whistle, sound strewn at random. The willow tip made of thicker willow branches has a deep and powerful voice, and the willow sharp pitch made of thinner willow branches is high and bright.
Several naughty boys will blow three or four willow tips at the same time. That voice, unique, unique. Clever sisters woven baskets and straw hats out of willow branches. Then collect wild flowers everywhere and fill small flower baskets.
In summer, the willow leaves a dense shade. There are several curved willows by the river, which bend into a natural radian, just enough to sit on the trunk, put their feet in the cool pool water, listen to cicadas and blow a breeze, which is cool and comfortable. At noon in the summer vacation, several intimate friends always sneak out of the house while their parents are taking a nap, grabbing these willows and enjoying the cool in the shade.
They all caught golden cicadas on summer nights. At that time, the golden cicada was not as expensive as it is now. Sometimes, people will use tweezers to clip out the golden cicada hidden in the hole. Sometimes, I will wait until dusk, gently take down the golden cicada lying on the trunk and put it in the jar.
Before going home, let's count the spoils together and see who catches the most. More often, I quietly observed the metamorphosis process of the golden cicada, and saw that it stretched out its transparent wings a little, turned black a little, became strong from immature, and then flapped its wings and flew away. I don't know where it went.
Many times, people only like to catch golden cicadas, but they can't bear to hurt them when they catch them. Let them change freely, and let them fly freely the next morning—
The happiest thing is to harvest white mushrooms after the rain in summer, which is somewhat similar to the Agaricus bisporus sold in the market now. Those wild mushrooms emerged from the ground overnight and poked their heads out of the grass with dew.
The most delicious fruit in summer is watermelon. At that time, watermelon was bought without money in the village, and wheat was used at home. Whenever there are shouts of selling watermelons in the village, friends urge adults to pick watermelons together.
The watermelon in my memory is extremely sweet. Green and black watermelon skins, yellow pulp and watermelon seeds are bigger than now. At that time, there was no refrigerator, and people would use newly pumped well water to cool watermelons.
Adults are always reluctant to eat, and a watermelon is eaten by us children. After eating watermelon, we will wash the watermelon seeds, put them on the windowsill and dry them at noon. Eating watermelon at noon and melon seeds in the afternoon is not a waste at all.
There are all kinds of exquisite stickers in the childhood memory of the post-70 s. Sometimes, in order to collect stickers, I secretly save money for dinner. Handwritten greeting cards are beautifully designed, and the blessing words inside are well thought out. Those immature handwriting looks a little fuzzy now, but those friendships will never fade.
Help harvest wheat in summer. At that time, there were no harvesters, and all wheat was cut with sickles. Adults go to the fields to cut wheat early in the morning. Children in rural areas are sensible and considerate of their parents. They get up early to boil water and cook, then pack their bags, walk on a quiet country road and deliver meals to their parents.
The adults who had been busy all morning ate a few mouthfuls of rice in a hurry and started the intense wheat harvest work again. The cut wheat was transported to the threshing floor, and the children were very busy with it. There is a handwritten lyric book. Listening to good songs on the radio and watching TV, children will quietly write down the lyrics, and then follow the melody and learn a new song without a teacher. At that time, how much fun did children have in childhood that they can't even think of now?
At that time, my family was not well off, so I had to be careful when buying popsicles in summer. There were not many clothes that could be changed at that time. Everyone learned to wash their own clothes very early and never had to be urged by their mother. At that time, there were many opportunities to get in touch with nature all year round. The vast fields are the best paradise. I have recited many seemingly incomprehensible poems. At that time, I was too young to recite mechanically: Where do children come from when they meet strangers?
Now, we have grown up, and we have entered the age of no doubt from the children of that year. Wanderers who leave their hometown are afraid of being treated as foreign guests and ask where they come from.
Time flies, what changes is the appearance, and what remains unchanged is the childlike innocence. In the memory after 1970, there will always be frogs and willows whistling in my hometown.