In the afternoon, I just went to work and found two more quail egg-sized apricots on the desk, the whole body was emerald green and yellow, and the surface was also attached with fine fluffy hairs that were "milky and undried". I couldn't help but pick up a squinting eye and nibble on it, the strong astringent acid spread to every nerve in the cheek, and then chew the scalp a few times, casually spitting out the apricot flesh residue. I spit my tongue and inhaled a cool breath, this feeling is very comfortable for me, the pure taste that penetrates the heart but tastes between the lips and teeth instantly ripples through the memory of my youth, and gradually spreads.
When I was a child, apricot trees could be seen everywhere in the village, and every year after the apricot blossoms withered, the green hairy apricots became the prey of the children in the village. Although most of the apricot trees in the village are the same kind of ordinary almond trees, the taste of different trunks is very different. Therefore, after word of mouth, whose apricots are delicious has formed a tacit ranking in almost everyone's heart. Every day after school at noon and in the afternoon, the little friends go to "step on" and carry out "theft" almost become a very exciting and proud activity in the summer.
Sour apricots
I remember that there were seven or eight apricot trees planted in the large courtyard of a family in the east of the village, and the taste was quite good, especially when the apricot body turned yellow but slightly green, and the hand could just squeeze it in half, that kind of sweet and sour in our group of teenagers could make people flow out of the indisputable ha lazi by just relying on language descriptions. Moreover, our group of young people who are full of life and tigers are more victorious than the old man whose children are away and live alone.
At noon, taking advantage of the lunch break, more than a dozen of us came to the old man's yard, picked up the tree, picked up the tree, put the wind on the wall, stood guard at the door, and should be outreached, eager to "loot it". As a result, there is always a sparseness in The sound of branches breaking outside the window, the sound of bricks falling on the wall, and the dull sound of "fluttering" apricots smashing into the dirt still wake up the napping uncle. The old man did not shout loudly, but just strolled to the courtyard, and we all scattered, leaving only the hair that climbed to the fork of the tree and held the branch and looked confused. According to his dictation afterwards, the old man did not insult and intimidate him, but only advised him to step down step by step, and let him pick up the apricots that fell on the ground and take them away. After many years, while thanking the old man, I also understand some of the seemingly incredible actions of that age: in fact, go directly to the uncle, and he will also reward us with a big basket, not to mention the simple hometown that does not talk about the economic era. But we are filling the boredom of amateur life by stealing apricots, and enjoy the sense of surprise and excitement that the process brings us.
The blue sky and white clouds in the rural hometown
Wait until the apricots are ripe, pressed against the branches and yellow, emitting a seductive aroma. By this time, the apricot had shed its sourness and become sweet and soft. Of course, the people of the village will pick up a basket in time and give it to their neighbors, or distribute it to the children on the street. Some that can't be eaten or fall under the trees, people will dry apricots and wait for water to drink in winter. The apricot kernels are dried and dried, waiting for the sound of the street vendors buying one after another.
I remember that when I was a child, my grandmother's house had two sweet core apricot trees with a good taste, and every summer, the "patronage" of small children was frequently attracted, and even the adobe wall next to the tree was ground out of the road opening. Because of the frequent occurrence of "safety accidents", I can't remember how many times my grandmother stood under the tree and coaxed the children who climbed high to slowly get off the tree and not fall. During a lunch break, a neighbor child of about ten years old dragged a broken branch from the tree, but fortunately the child did not have a big problem but scratched the skin. Grandma sent the child home with a palpitation and brought a basket of yellow apricots. Afterwards, the kind grandfather stacked the straw under the tree to prevent similar accidents from causing personal injury.
With the passage of time, the current countryside has been demolished and renovated by various demolitions and renovations, and there will always be changes every time I go back. There are fewer and fewer apricot trees in people's yards, but there are more and more economic forests planted in the fields outside the village, but this apricot is inedible. The fruit counters in the supermarket are full of attractive colors, as big as golden apricots with import marks in the fist, and the sour apricots that are sandwiched are not to say that they are urban, and most rural children now disdain or even have not seen. And the sour or sweet taste I ate as a child has become a symbol and memory of childhood.