Walking through my neighbourhood one spring evening， I caught the fragrance of wildflowers 1）wafting from the side of the road.

It was the same perfume that surrounded me when I was a child， spending summer evenings in an 2）untended lot near our house in another small southern Ontario town. The lot was tiny， just an unmown side yard next to a 3）gravel road. But， for my friends and me， it was a wild place where we gathered regularly， from spring until the chill and early darkness of autumn sent us back into our houses.

We even organized ourselves into a club—the Nature Club—and 4）christened the lot filled with tall grasses， buttercups and Queen Anne’s lace the Grasshopper Field.

At the core of our club were my brother Frank and me， and Mary Jane and Cheryl who lived the next block over. We were united by a fascination with insects and adventure， as well as a love of penny candy purchased at the corner store. A Wilson or two might drop by， or a Leon， but it was the four of us who gathered when we heard Mary Jane’s shrill call echo through the neighbourhood.

Our chosen meeting place was next to the overgrown honeysuckle bush. There we sipped 5）nectar from the blossoms while discussing our various projects： building a fort， organizing a lemonade stand， riding our bikes to the canal bank to catch crayfish， 6）scouring the ditches north of our house for 7）tadpoles. Much of what we did depended on the time of year.

A hydro cut ran behind the houses of the neighbourhood. Hidden by trees and bushes， it was the Secret Ditch. Normally it was dry， but each spring， waist-high water from the melt and rain filled it. One year， we launched a raft. Made of elm logs from recently cut trees， scraps of board and about a thousand nails， it didn’t sink immediately， but slowly and inevitably， as Frank poled it down the ditch.

With summer， the Grasshopper Field came alive with butterflies and 8）moths， dragonflies and damselflies， hovering above the flowers and grasses. 9）Finches floated through the air and sparrows took dust baths at the side of the road. But it was mid-summer that we waited for. It was then that the grasshoppers emerged， at first as tender and green as the stalks they clung to.

By August they were mature， hardened and 10）robust， spraying out in front of us as we waded through the thigh-high grass. On those 11）hazy summer days， insects 12）chirped and buzzed while the grass rippling in the wind sounded like water.

Of course， the adventure was in the chase—in trying to collect those various flying， hopping， crawling insects that populated the field. With patience and 13）perseverance， we snagged them in cupped hands and then examined the intricate 14）mandibles of the smaller grasshoppers， the colours and patterns of butterflies and beetles， the rippling legs of a 15）centipede， the feathery antennae of a moth.

We held the insects carefully， kept them in jars briefly and then released them. We took out books from the library to learn more about them， and about the plants and the birds we saw.

But there was one insect we could not catch—the giant grey grasshoppers that blended in with the gravel road and took flight as soon as we approached. It was my otherwise 16）lumbering and easygoing Maine coon cat who displayed an unexpected talent for catching the elusive prey in mid-air， but she never shared the 17）specimens with us.

With late August and early evenings， cricket songs filled the Grasshopper Field. After a long summer， our thoughts turned to school.

In September， we still gathered on Saturdays， mostly to talk. Then， with the first cold nights of autumn， the Grasshopper Field became silent and still. The Nature Club would resume its meetings there in the spring. Though eventually， the centre of our universe shifted.

We began going downtown on Saturdays to check the CHUM music charts at Kresge’s before stopping for a Coke at Woolworth’s. We began taking on odd jobs during the summer—mowing lawns， babysitting， helping around the house. We were getting ready to be teenagers， and abandoned the Grasshopper Field in the process.

One day its owner claimed it， mowing down the grasses and wildflowers， cutting the honeysuckle bush and turning our once wild sanctuary into a suburban lawn.

I remember being surprised at how small the lot was； it had contained such large dreams and adventures.

In the woods behind the house where I now live， there are forts and 18）lean-tos among the 19）thickets and bike trails. There are also wooden survey stakes with orange ribbons attached to them. Childhood does not last forever.

在某個(gè)春天的傍晚，走過我住的社區(qū)時(shí)，我嗅到了野花的芬芳從路邊飄來。

小時(shí)候住在南安大略省的一個(gè)小鎮(zhèn)時(shí)，我總會(huì)在家附近一小塊無人照管的野地上消磨夏日的傍晚時(shí)光，同樣的芬芳一直環(huán)繞著我。那塊野地很小，不過是一條碎石路旁一個(gè)未曾除草的側(cè)院罷了。但對(duì)于我和我的小伙伴們來說，那是我們定期聚會(huì)的野地，從春季一直持續(xù)到秋季的寒意和早早降臨的黑夜將我們趕回到屋內(nèi)為止。

我們甚至還自己組建了一個(gè)俱樂部——“大自然俱樂部”——并將這塊充滿了高高的野草、毛茛和野胡蘿卜花的荒地命名為“蚱蜢地”。

我和我的兄弟弗蘭克是俱樂部的核心成員，還有住在隔壁街區(qū)的瑪麗·簡(jiǎn)和謝莉爾。我們因?yàn)閷?duì)昆蟲和冒險(xiǎn)的癡迷，以及對(duì)街角商店里一便士一粒的糖果的熱愛而聚在一起。威爾森家的一兩個(gè)孩子或者萊昂家的某個(gè)孩子也許會(huì)順便來玩，而我們四個(gè)人只要聽到瑪麗·簡(jiǎn)尖厲的叫聲在社區(qū)里回響就會(huì)過來集合。

我們集合地選在枝葉蔓生的金銀花叢旁邊。我們?cè)谀抢镞吽蔽圻呌懻摬煌挠?jì)劃：建造一座堡壘、組建一個(gè)賣檸檬汽水的小攤、騎自行車去運(yùn)河岸邊抓小龍蝦、在我們房屋北面的溝渠里找蝌蚪。我們的活動(dòng)大部分取決于當(dāng)時(shí)的季節(jié)。

我們社區(qū)的房屋后面有一條排水溝，被樹木和灌木叢掩藏著，是我們口中的“秘密水溝”。它通常是干涸的，但每年春季，融雪和雨水灌滿其間，水深齊腰。有一年，我們還劃了一次木筏。筏子由新砍的榆木、小片木板和近千枚鐵釘做成，木筏沒有下水即沉，但是當(dāng)弗蘭克將其撐到溝里時(shí)，最終還是難以避免地緩緩下沉了。

夏季時(shí)節(jié)，“蚱蜢地”恢復(fù)了生氣，蝴蝶、飛蛾、蜻蜓和蜻蛉在花朵和青草上盤旋。雀兒在空中飛翔，麻雀在路邊洗沙浴。但我們等候的是仲夏時(shí)節(jié)。到了那時(shí)候，蚱蜢出現(xiàn)了，剛開始就像它們所攀附的莖稈一樣纖細(xì)而翠綠。

八月來臨，它們都成熟了，身體變得堅(jiān)硬而強(qiáng)壯，當(dāng)我們跋涉過齊大腿深的草叢時(shí)，在我們面前彈射而出。在那些起霧的夏日里，昆蟲們嗡嗡鳴叫，草葉在風(fēng)中泛起漣漪，聽起來宛如水聲。

當(dāng)然了，冒險(xiǎn)在于追逐——努力收集生長于此的不同種類的正在飛舞、蹦跳、爬行的昆蟲。我們滿懷著耐心和堅(jiān)持，把手窩成杯狀捂住它們，然后檢視較小的蚱蜢那結(jié)構(gòu)復(fù)雜的下顎、蝴蝶和甲蟲的色彩和花紋、蜈蚣宛如波浪的足部，還有飛蛾毛茸茸的觸角。

我們小心翼翼地捧住昆蟲，將它們暫時(shí)裝進(jìn)罐子里，然后放掉。我們從圖書館里借閱書籍以便進(jìn)一步了解關(guān)于它們及我們所見過的植物和鳥類的知識(shí)。

但有一種昆蟲我們總也抓不到——藏匿在碎石路上的巨大灰蚱蜢，我們一靠近就會(huì)飛走。然而我那平時(shí)笨重而溫和的緬因庫恩貓，卻在半空中捕捉這種難以束手就擒的獵物時(shí)展現(xiàn)出了令人意想不到的天分，但它從不和我們分享它的成果。

在八月下旬的黃昏時(shí)分，蟋蟀的歌聲響徹“蚱蜢地”。經(jīng)過漫長的夏日后，我們的心思也轉(zhuǎn)到了學(xué)校去了。

到了九月，我們?nèi)匀粫?huì)在周六聚會(huì)，大多是在聊天。接著，當(dāng)深秋的第一個(gè)寒夜降臨時(shí)，“蚱蜢地”變得寧謐寂靜?！按笞匀痪銟凡俊睍?huì)在春季重返于此。不過到最后，我們世界的中心改變了。

我們開始在周六去市中心的克雷斯吉商店查看CHUM音樂排行榜，然后停在伍爾沃斯超市來瓶可樂。我們開始在夏季干些零活——修剪草坪、照看孩子、在家里打打下手。我們?cè)跒樽兂汕嗌倌曜鰷?zhǔn)備，漸漸地遺忘了“蚱蜢地”。

有一天，它的主人收回了這塊土地，割掉了青草和野花，剪掉了金銀花叢，將我們?cè)?jīng)的野外庇護(hù)所變成了市郊草坪。

我記得自己曾為這片野地竟然如此之小而深感驚訝；它曾裝下了那么大的夢(mèng)想和冒險(xiǎn)。

在我如今居住的房屋后面的樹林里，在灌木叢和單車道間坐落著堡壘和披棚，還有綁著橙色緞帶的標(biāo)桿。童年時(shí)光一去不返。