The story of summer

Men's childhood memories are mostly in the summer. When I was a child, I liked summer, summer was my holiday, and the holiday homework assigned by the teacher was too lazy to pay attention to, but when it was time to start school, I was afraid that the teacher would check the homework and be reprimanded by my parents.

There are many stories in the summer of childhood, and the protagonists of the stories are all kinds of insects. Dragonflies, celestial bulls, grasshoppers, mantises, butterflies, cicadas, ants, earthworms, in addition to frogs and fish, are the protagonists of summer life, and each insect brings us endless happiness. Once upon a time, there was a reserved plot of land behind my house, and my mother planted corn and sunflowers, attracting countless dragonflies, and catching them became a pleasure for me. I remember that there were many varieties of dragonflies at that time, and I couldn't call them by their scientific names, and the flying dragonflies were a beautiful landscape in the summer. It's just that somehow it's rare to see dragonflies of different colors now.

I know, it is a singer in the hot summer. In fact, those who can call are males, and females cannot be called. At that time, I used to use a pocket made of plastic bags with my cousin to catch on a long bamboo pole, and I would always return with a full load, but I still can't understand the use of catching so much knowledge, and I don't think it's funny. More often, they become the object of my abuse. Sometimes the wings are torn off, sometimes they are burned, and sometimes the heads are screwed off. When I was a child, I often wondered, what is the purpose of the cicada that keeps chirping? Aren't they thirsty? Aren't they tired? Maybe it was to court the female. Fabre wrote in his Insects: "Four years of dark labor, pleasure in the January sun, this is the life of the cicada, and we should not be disgusted by the noisy exaggerations in its song." Because it had been digging for four years, it was now suddenly dressed in beautiful clothes, growing wings that rivaled birds, and bathing in the warm sunlight. The sound of that cymbal can be high enough to celebrate its joy, so rare, and so short. "It turned out that it took four years for cicadas to break through the ground from larvae to molting shells, and once they broke out of the dark cage, they were going to sing loudly." But why is the female still silent when she knows?

Happy childhood is not at all pay attention to the heat of the heat, the skin is tanned and dark and blind, I like the summer of the childhood exposed to the sun.

The summer of childhood is always innocent and romantic and carefree. When I was a child, there was no electric fan, only a fan, and after dinner, the family sat in the yard to cool off, and the fan could be used to fan the wind, and it could be used to shoot mosquitoes. I like to lie on a stool and look at the stars in the sky. And the cool party on the radio has become a must-hear program for people to talk about.

In the summer of middle school, what I preferred was to lie quietly in bed and read some idle books. Whether it's hot or not, lying in bed and reading a book, it feels great.

This summer, you can no longer see the dragonflies flying around, you can't hear the high songs, and few people will sit in the courtyard to cool off, of course, the radio station has long been without a cool party. However, it is almost half a hundred and I write summer in front of the computer under the air conditioner.