[E-Magazine]: Fragrant with the season of cool breeze and dew

It's cold! The cold makes people more thoughtful, more gentle with each other. The afternoon fades quickly with the tinkling sound of wind chimes echoing from somewhere far away. Enough to evoke a sense of emptiness, a vague nostalgia before time...

The cool breeze has come to the city, the mountains are a misty green and the water is crystal clear. Gently pulling my shirt, I am amazed to see the leaves flying on the ripples. It feels so vast and vague, as if I have missed something, as if I have not had time to hold on to the moments of yesterday.

The pond surface is empty in the late autumn days. There is no trace of the wilted lotus on the water surface, no pair of yellow-feathered birds chirping among the “lotus branches”. Only the wind blowing and swaying the water. But I know that the color of the water is hiding surprises waiting for the warm sunny day, waiting for the day the lotus reunites.

I looked at the dark red buoy floating in the water. A fisherman was reeling in his bait for the next round. Far away, the water surface was bubbling, the sound of fish sloshing around, but around the buoy there were only waves pushed by a gentle breeze. I asked: Do you catch many fish each time you go like this? The fisherman looked at me and said not many, just going like that, just for fun! I absentmindedly mentioned lotus with a bit of regret. He said: The season is over. There are water lilies at the other end of the pond.

Purple flowers reflect on the water. Purple-green leaves float on the water. A day of cool breeze, a vague nostalgia for the color purple. For a moment, I suddenly wished that there was sunshine to make that bit of purple less lonely, less desolate. It was as if there was a lotus scent imbued with the May sunshine lingered on the trees and leaves by the lake. I suddenly missed the sunshine, the taste of sunshine from the days when lotuses were in full bloom.

The cool breeze had just begun in the middle of the rainy days. The north wind had not yet risen in the vast gray sky and earth of showers, storms and hurricanes. The weather was as harsh as it always was in this land. Only the people’s hearts were seen to be steadfast and patient with what they had. The folk song “as long as there is skin, hair will grow, as long as there are buds, trees will sprout” was repeated by someone in a meeting at the community cultural house, making smiles light up on everyone’s faces.

The vegetable garden outside was lush green. The red chili peppers ripened beside the dark purple perilla branches, blooming clusters of white flowers. The peach blossom petals gently opened their buds at the cool breeze. A peach blossom faded, a pink glow flashed in the gloomy winter sky. The house next door was bustling with talk of marriage, this year there would be a new bride. The mother-in-law smiled happily, planning to raise more chickens to wait for the day she welcomed her little girl.

I cleaned up the small garden, planning to plant beans and some green vegetables. Passionflower vines were hanging everywhere, with bunches of light yellow pods hanging down. I nibbled on one that seemed to be the ripest pod hidden under the leaves. It was sweet and sour with a slightly pungent smell. Just eat that, otherwise I would be sleepy all day. Wasn’t passionflower sleeping like a god enjoying pleasure? The garden was dense with trees and leaves, and it had just gone through a few storms, so wild plants were growing wildly. I silently estimated the area of ​​land for planting beans. Longer and narrower than the other beds. Two rows of bamboo poles would be planted here. The beans would gradually turn green and then flower and bear fruit. The wind had come, so the beans planted too late probably wouldn’t be in time for Tet. I remembered that my mother used to plant beans right after eating the full moon of the seventh lunar month. Before the market opened, my family would pick beans. The beans were round, green in color, and sweet and soft when boiled or fried. I don’t know how my mother protected them from the August rains, so that the bean flowers would bloom purple all through the cool season. And the bean pods also grew very quickly. After only a few rainy days, I saw the beans plump and smooth. If I didn’t have time to pick them, they would be ripe. However, my sisters and I all loved to eat the seeds of those old beans. My mother’s bean basket always had a few overripe beans. My mother removed the bean fibers, boiled the beans, or fried them with young beans. When it was time to serve them, my sisters and I would fight over those plump beans. They tasted rich and fragrant, like a rare gift.

It's cold! The cold makes people more thoughtful, more gentle with each other. I quietly watch the cold touch the red winter clothes in the school yard after school, watch a few red leaves of the Indian almond tree like pretty flower buds in spring. The roses faintly smell in the wet rain. The afternoon fades quickly with the tinkling of wind chimes echoing from somewhere far away. Enough to evoke a sense of emptiness, a vague feeling before time.

The wind kept blowing leaves across the water. Floating, swaying. The yellow color was lost. The cool breeze covered the clear water. I thought about autumn, about the busy days. People, because of different concerns, often forget everything outside themselves. Caught up in the chaos, the days and the scenery changed, looking back with surprise, only to see that I had aged with time. I wondered, what had I done and how did I feel in that moment?

But then, there are times when stepping out of the familiar days, people feel unsteady. Even though those are temporary days. Even though those are days outside of human planning. After all, plants and trees must adapt, let alone humans. As long as we follow nature and act appropriately in all circumstances, we will have peace.

Winter has come. Getting ready for other busy things. By the window, the scent of warm tea in hand. The sweet scent of dew, the scent of the puberty sunshine. Suddenly craving to hear the tinkling of wind chimes, craving the scent of magnolias wafting in the hazy autumn moonlit night, craving to see the mist on the lake surface. And flowers blooming in the color of dewy sunlight, in the cool breeze that smells fragrant in the mountain town.

Content: Tran Thi Hong Anh

Photo: Internet Document

Graphics: Mai Huyen

Source: https://baothanhhoa.vn/e-magazine-thom-theo-mua-heo-may-u-suong-268733.htm