Youthful Grass

In my hometown in that small village, there is a large grass, grass surrounded by a bend in the stream. I spent most of my childhood laughing and playing on the grass.

But now that I recall, I have a blurred picture of the grass, but I only clearly remember the bright green and the countless grasshoppers in the grass. The children in the village loved to "catch grasshoppers". Take a small broken jar with a lid, take a small discarded net, call a few buddies, and a group of people will march to the grass.

When they got to the grass, their sleeves were rolled up and the small jar was placed on the ground, and the children picked up the net and started to catch grasshoppers. This is said to be grass, but it is not very deep only the children's feet. When you look down, you can still see the new leaves sprouting under the grass that has already withered. The new leaves are hung with crystal clear water droplets, shining with crystal-like purity. The tiny mole crickets were still hurrying through, and the colorful ladybugs were piling up into the leaves. The "prey" that I wanted to catch was always difficult to find, and we either didn't have the "eyes of gold" to see through their superior camouflage, or we only saw a flash of green or brown.

To catch grasshoppers, I often crouched in the grass and didn't move, my eyes fixed on the grass, and when something blew, I swooped in and snapped my hands together - opening my palms with joy, but not seeing the grasshopper I had expected. I caught them again and again, my palms were red, but I still didn't catch a few; occasionally I happened to catch a few, but they were small and crippled. I wondered why I couldn't catch a good grasshopper. So I made up my mind: I must catch some good, big grasshoppers!

I learned from my mistakes. I finally figured out the reason after many "fiascoes": how could I catch the grasshoppers when they were scared away by the noise I made when I pounced on them? So, I learned my lesson and went to the grass, carefully put down the small jar, gently moved to the bush, and cautiously used my hands to pick up the surrounding grass. I held my breath and searched, not daring to breathe. One green, another green, my eyes wandered sharply over the blades of grass, eager to find a grasshopper.

Suddenly, I stopped - there was something strange about that blade of grass, how it moved a little. I wondered to myself: could it be a grasshopper? I took a good look, and it was! I was so happy, I tried to hold back my excitement, I couldn't let the "meat" fly away! I caged my hands above the grasshopper and slowly, slowly descended, close at hand! With my heart beating a drum, I slammed my hands together again and opened them slightly to see the grasshopper squeezed in my palm, not struggling. I put it in the jar and admired it like a work of art, my heart filled with an indescribable joy.

From then on, I became more and more skilled at catching grasshoppers, and the grass often echoed with the laughter of me and my buddies ......

In my childhood, the green grass was a world of infinite fun. The grass has not only those countless grasshoppers but also hides a unique childhood carefree. Now, I would probably not have to rack my brain to catch a grasshopper and be happy to catch one. The fact is that the corner of my mouth will always be unconsciously up when I recall my childhood, the green grass, perhaps the time to make it wither, but it is still in my heart evergreen.