Summer in the magical garden

There's nothing better than sleeping in a hammock under a tree on a hot summer afternoon!

My grandmother hung a hammock for me under the shade of the starfruit and carambola trees in the garden. I don't know when the starfruit trees were planted, but their wide branches provided shade all day long. On that hammock, every afternoon, I would happily read until my eyes drooped with sleepiness, then I would drift into beautiful dreams. In my dreams, I saw myself as a tiny boy lost in a land of giants, having to defend myself by sword fighting. Sometimes I would dream of being lost in a land of giant butterflies, riding on their backs and traveling everywhere… Oh, those magical dreams! Every time I woke up, I still longed to go back to sleep and fall back into those beautiful dreams.

Every time I woke up from my afternoon nap and told my grandmother about my dream, she would always burst out laughing: "You have such a vivid imagination! You could write a book someday." I don't know if it started with my grandmother's joke or with the books I read while rocking in my hammock each afternoon, but the dream of becoming a storyteller secretly grew within me. I began to write little stories, about my grandmother and her magical garden.

I called my grandmother's little garden a wonderland because every day brought a little surprise. The trees always gave me so many beautiful golden leaves. I would pick up the golden leaves I thought were pretty and press them into a notebook, noting the date I picked them, carefully and meticulously like a true collector. Once, I found a heart-shaped golden leaf, and I jumped for joy and ran to show my grandmother. She patted my head and smiled, praising me, saying, "My little puppy is so clever!"

In my grandmother's garden, my favorite was the guava tree by the pond. The tree had a fork in its branches, perfect for sitting, dangling my feet, nibbling on some slightly unripe guavas, and reading. I often snuck up to the fork to sit and play, reading until I got tired, then admiring the view from above. Several sparrows chirped and flitted from branch to branch, their green feathers swaying back and forth, making my eyes dizzy. One day I told a sparrow, "Stop jumping so much! Aren't your legs tired?" The sparrows looked at me in surprise, their eyes wide, as if to say, "Tired? We've been jumping like this since we were born!" Hearing that, I laughed. "Well, they're sparrows, after all! They don't know what tiredness is!" So I wrote a poem about the sparrow and gave it to my grandmother to read. She burst out laughing, "You little rascal, you have such a vivid imagination!"

In a corner by the pond, my grandmother planted a banana tree. Whether it was because of the fertile soil or my grandmother's green thumb, each time it bore a bunch of bananas, the stalks hung down almost to the ground. I would often wait until the flowers bloomed to collect the dew drops on the flower tips to drink; they were as sweet as honey. The woodpeckers also liked this nectar, so I had to get up very early in the morning to get a sip before they drank it all. Every time they saw me running out, the woodpeckers would quickly fly up to a nearby branch, pecking down and chirping. I guessed they were scolding me for taking all their nectar. Even so, I wouldn't give it up; what could I do? The banana flower nectar was so fragrant and sweet that the more I drank, the more I craved it.

By the fence, Grandma planted a row of cassava. Every now and then, she would pull up a clump to boil. The cassava tubers were pure white and fragrant with the scent of pandan leaves. Grandma would grate some coconut and grind some sesame seeds and salt, making a delicious snack for rainy days. I would eat cassava until I was so full I'd skip dinner. Grandma wouldn't scold me, she'd just laugh at me for acting like I was craving cassava so much. She didn't know how much I craved it; at home, my parents never let me eat whatever I wanted like she did. That's why every summer I would beg Mom to let me go to Grandma's house. Of course, Mom agreed, because Grandma was always alone, Uncle Ut worked all day and spent his evenings playing with his friends, so having me there would give Grandma someone to talk to and keep her company. So, among all her grandchildren, Grandma loved me the most. She always saved the best food for me to eat when I came home for the summer. Knowing I liked potatoes, Grandma planted cassava, taro, sweet potatoes, and elephant ear taro in the empty corners of the garden. Every time summer approaches, she calls me, urging me to come home for a visit, as if she's been waiting for summer for a very long time.

I spent countless childhood summers with my grandmother, in her magical garden. I knew every tree in the garden by heart. When my grandmother passed away, suddenly all the trees in the garden shed their leaves. Everyone said they were mourning her. I sobbed, sweeping up the fallen leaves and burning them, then buying fertilizer to fertilize and water the trees. I was afraid they would miss my grandmother and follow her. I hugged each tree, comforting them like a child, urging them to eat and grow quickly. Then the trees sprouted new leaves. Every summer, lying in a hammock under the trees, I would hear them whispering, like my grandmother saying, "Tèo, you're back, aren't you? Grandma left some cassava for you outside the fence." Suddenly, tears streamed down my face, and I whispered, "Grandma!"

Source: https://baobinhthuan.com.vn/mua-he-o-khu-vuon-dieu-ky-109400.html