Rubber tree leaf-shedding season

The rubber tree's leaf-shedding season arrives very subtly, so subtly that one only notices it when, one morning, the familiar road suddenly looks different. No longer a continuous expanse of green stretching endlessly, the rubber forest appears in deeper, more mature shades, as if the earth and sky have lowered their voices. The sun is still there, but it's no longer harsh; the wind still blows, but it seems to know how to move gently so as not to startle the leaves at the final stage of their life cycle.

The road is "dyed yellow" by the scenery of rubber trees shedding their leaves during the leaf-changing season.

The rubber tree leaves began to change color from the top down. At first, only a few patches of yellow appeared, then gradually the entire forest took on a distinctive reddish-brown hue. The leaves didn't fall in a rush. They fell one by one, slowly, enough for one to observe their delicate trajectory and ponder. Some leaves twirled gently in the wind, others fell straight down, softly touching the ground and lying still, as if they had completed their task.

A young woman poses for a photo in a rubber plantation during the leaf-shedding season. Photo: Truong Hien

The ground beneath the rubber forest was quickly covered with a thick, soft carpet of leaves. Each step produced a dry, crisp sound, subtle yet memorable. The sound wasn't noisy or disruptive; it was simply a reminder that time was passing, steadily and truly. The familiar red dirt road suddenly felt softer, warmer, as if sheltered by the very leaves the trees had once carried.

This season, the rubber forest no longer has its lush green canopy obscuring the sky. The straight, slender trunks are more clearly visible, pale gray and silent. In that barren space, the sky suddenly seems higher and deeper. Clouds drift slowly, sunlight falls in long streaks on the tree trunks, on the ground, and even on memories thought to have been dormant somewhere. Standing in the forest, one easily feels small, while nature expands, enough to contain nameless thoughts.

Young women pose for photos in a rubber plantation during the leaf-shedding season in Thuan Loi commune, Dong Nai province. Photo: Truong Hien

The season when rubber trees shed their leaves evokes more nostalgia than sadness. It's like a necessary pause between two rhythms of life. The rubber trees shed all their old leaves to conserve energy for the upcoming rainy season, so that the fresh green canopy will once again cover the sky. Watching that shedding, one suddenly learns to accept. There are things that, if not let go of, will leave no room for something new to come.

In that space, I suddenly realized I too was going through a season of falling leaves. The noise, the old desires, the things that once weighed heavily on my heart seemed to be falling away, little by little. Not exactly sad, just lighter. The rubber tree's leaf-shedding season thus became a quiet consolation: That in life, moments of solitude are necessary, so that we may be strong enough to welcome another green season that awaits us.

And then, when the first rains of the season touch the earth, new shoots will sprout on the branches. The rubber forest will turn green again, fresh as if it had never experienced a season of leaf fall. But the memory of the rubber tree's leaf-shedding season – with its reddish-brown hues, the smell of dry leaves, and the profound stillness – remains, like a beautiful pause in the long symphony of nature and of each individual.

Pham Minh

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/dong-nai-cuoi-tuan/202601/mua-cao-su-thay-la-ede23d9/