小时候,老家的小院里有一棵无花果树。每年的春天,无花果树光秃秃的枝丫上就会鼓起一粒粒绿色的芽苞。到了夏天,早长出的无花果已有核桃大小,碧绿地挂在枝头上。我抵挡不住无花果的诱惑,踮起脚尖摘下一个,轻轻一嚼,里面的小颗粒咯吱吱地响,却一点儿滋味也没有,原来,无花果一点儿也不好吃。于是,我把咬了一口的无花果扔在了树下。母亲笑着拍拍我的头说: When I was young, there was a fig tree in my home yard. Every spring, the green branches of a fig tree blusher on a bare branch. In the summer, figs grow early, the size of the walnut, green hanging on the branches. I could not resist the temptation of the fig, pick one tiptoe off, gently chew the small particles creaking slightly, but a little taste did not, the original fig is not delicious at all. So I threw a bite of figs under the tree. Mother smiled and patted my head and said: