童年突出的景象,是一弯绿色的墙,那是我对太婆家大院子的一道永恒的记忆。每天清晨,就看见太婆在院子里忙碌。她弯下那早已有些驼背的腰,给那些“小生命”浇水、施肥,将杂草拔掉。我则坐在那门槛上,静静地看着。当第一缕阳光洒到太婆的院子时,一切都沐浴在金色的晨光中,这幅美丽的画面就好像是神话中的伊甸园。可不知什么时候,太婆在院子里的西墙角“开辟”了一片泥地,她给那黄巴巴的地松土,又在上面撒一些种子,浇一些水, 过了些日子,那黄泥地里就冒出了绿芽,可爱极了。我问太婆那是什么,她笑咪咪地说:“那是扁豆,长出来是紫色的,等它长熟了,我用它做菜给你吃,好不好?”“好!”我拍手叫道。从那以后, The scene highlighted by childhood was a curved green wall. It was an eternal memory of my grandfather’s yard. Every morning, I saw my grandma busy in the yard. She bent down her already hunchback waist, watering, fertilizing, and pulling out the weeds. I sat on that threshold and looked at it silently. When the first rays of sunshine were spilled on the great-grandmother’s courtyard, everything was bathed in the golden morning light. This beautiful picture is like the mythological Eden. But I do not know when my grandma “opened up” a mud in the corner of the western wall in the yard. She gave the yellow earth to loosen the earth and sprinkled some seeds and poured some water on it. After some days, the yellow muddy land There was a green shoot in it and it was lovely. I asked Grandma what it was. She smiled and said, “It was lentils. It grew purple. Waiting for it to be ripe. I use it to cook for you. OK?” “OK!” I clapper. Cried. From then on,