My grandmother with the vegetable stall by the hedge

The row of chrysanthemums is the fence around my house, I don’t know when it was there. When I grew up, the plants were already big and dense. Many houses in the village did not grow chrysanthemums like my house, but they planted tea trees as a fence. I asked my grandmother: “Grandma, why don’t we plant a hedge of tea trees like Mr. Tuong’s house but instead plant chrysanthemums? When I picked the leaves, I smelled a foul smell!”

My grandmother explained: “Cúc tần is a traditional medicine, my dear.” She said it was a traditional medicine to treat body aches. No wonder, every time my mother came back from planting or harvesting rice, she would ask us to pick leaves so she could roast them until golden brown, bury them in the ground, and apply them to her back so she could continue her work the next day. Just like that, time passed and the row of Cúc tần “disappeared”, I don’t know when.

I returned to visit my home after many years of exile. I thought the old scenery and people would remain forever, but I searched and searched and could not find any chrysanthemum plants or where they had been taken. The chrysanthemum fence – deeply embedded in me throughout my childhood and my hometown. I absentmindedly looked at the newly built fence and missed the chrysanthemums from the time my grandmother, mother and father had not yet returned to the earth.

When my grandmother was alive, she planted rows of Chinese marigolds as a hedge to prevent chickens and ducks from entering the garden and destroying the newly planted rows of mustard greens to improve her daily meals and also used them as a traditional medicine to treat body aches and pains during bad weather. Chinese marigolds have an unpleasant smell and are not suitable for children. Why didn't she plant guava, apple or jujube trees to get fruit instead of planting a tree that makes you waste water washing your hands when you touch it? And wherever you go, the strong, pungent smell follows.

The herb has many different names in different regions. Sometimes it is called the word "bi", "dai ngai", "hoa mai nao". Sometimes it is called the plant "dai bi", "luc an", "bang cam ngai". Whatever the name, the scientific name is still the most correct verification: Pluchea indica.

Plants are easy to grow and do not require much care or effort. My grandmother got some of the roots of the Chrysanthemum indica when she was doing manual sewing for a family in the village. She carefully wrapped them in dong tay leaves and hid them at the bottom of the sewing basket. She told me to take a small hoe and plant them on the border between my land and Mr. Tuong's. At first, I thought the plants would not grow from the roots. Unexpectedly, small shoots sprouted out in clusters. Then, in a few weeks, they crowded together to reproduce. At first, the young, fresh plants sprouted as if they were angry with someone who had destroyed the mother plant and taken them elsewhere.

The Chrysanthemum plant is not picky about the season of the year. It seems to be lush with leaves in every season. Whether it is the freezing cold winter or the scorching hot summer. Seeing the Chrysanthemum plant occupying space, she often sharpens a sharp knife, swings it horizontally higher than an adult’s chest, and cuts horizontally around both sides, leaving a half meter wide fence bare. Three days later, new shoots emerge from the stem, evenly and beautifully. The Chrysanthemum leaves grow alternately on a branch, seemingly without a stem. The edges of each leaf have a gray-green serrated shape, and are covered with fine hairs. When bent, the leaves are crispy, not tough like other wild vegetables.

When the tree is tall and pruned many times, it will flower. The flowers grow in clusters, light purple like the purple of the mahogany flowers. They gather in groups of two or three, which looks quite funny. The white hairs are a bit dirty. People think someone sprinkled dirt on the flower cluster. When the flowers wither, fruit will appear. In winter, around the beginning of December, the tree flowers and then produces fruit in clusters. People rarely pay attention, so no one notices when the fruit falls.

One season passed and another season came, the hedge of chrysanthemums still withered and then grew back lush and green. Not long after my grandmother and parents quietly returned to the earth, my younger brother put the hedge of chrysanthemums on the garbage truck to build a brick fence to replace it. I also did not witness the traditional medicine stall being bid farewell because it had been away from home for a long time. Looking back at the old days, I kept remembering the strong, pungent smell of the vegetable wafting into the mossy brick yard with my grandmother’s words, with the times she massaged my mother’s back when the seasons changed.

The hedge of marigolds and the coconut trees, apple trees, and mahogany trees of my childhood have supported my life, followed me into sleep, and gently lifted my memories. I looked up at the altar, at my grandparents, my parents, and was filled with emotions. I remembered the hedge of marigolds my grandmother bred for my childhood to live forever with time. I missed my mother’s aching back, bending over to produce rice grains, raising me to become a man. I remembered the herbal medicine in the hedge that forever contained my childhood from a long time ago.

Phung Van Dinh

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/dieu-gian-di/202510/ba-toi-voi-hang-rau-bo-giau-bb618d5/