Missing grandma in the season of falling crocodiles

The weather has gradually changed to Autumn. After the night rain, the front yard was clean as if someone had just swept it. The yellow starfruits had fallen at some point and were neatly placed in the corner of the yard, slightly cracked to reveal the stream of water. Just looking at it was enough to stimulate my taste buds. I sat on the porch, picking up a few starfruits in my hand and reminiscing about the old days.

Back then, when I was nine or ten years old, the tamarind tree in front of the house was already big and laden with fruit. When autumn came, the tamarind fruits ripened and fell all over the yard. My grandmother was usually the first to get up in the house, so when we opened the door to greet the morning, the yard and gate had already been swept clean by her.

After breakfast, she brought out a bowl of peeled and cooked star fruit, mixed with sugar, seasoning powder and many other spices. The star fruit slices were cut into round pieces, soaked in enough spices to give us strength every day.

On days when there were many star fruit trees falling, she would peel them, scrape them clean, and put them in a glass jar soaked in sugar. After just a few days, the star fruit would be soaked in sugar and could be taken out and mixed with a little water to make a wonderful refreshing drink. Every time we came back from herding buffalo or cutting grass, she would reward us with a glass of sweet star fruit juice. After we finished drinking the juice, we would chew on the crunchy star fruit flesh, leaving a lingering aftertaste on the tip of our tongues.

My sisters and I had a peaceful childhood through each season of tamarind. We have grown up since then. At over 90 years old, my grandmother passed away. When building a new house, my father tried to keep the tamarind tree so that it would always be green and bear fruit until now.

In recent years, traders have not come to buy the star fruit, so when the season comes, my father picks them down and shares them with the neighbors, leaving only a few on the tree to ripen. When autumn comes, just a light breeze blows and the ripe star fruit falls to the yard with a clatter.

Hearing the sound of crocodiles falling in the yard, I remember my grandmother and the peaceful memories of my childhood.

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