Wild sunflower season

(AI)

The highlands welcomed me with the vibrant yellow of wild sunflowers. It was the flowering season, so the mountains and hills were covered in a sea of yellow. Everywhere I went along the mountain roads, I saw clusters of these golden blossoms.

I still remember the moment I let my mind wander with the gentle breeze on the mountaintop, looking down at the lake, bathed in a soft, vibrant yellow hue. The delicate, yellow, elongated petals initially made me think they were chrysanthemums; perhaps that's why it's also known as the Sunflower Chrysanthemum?

Back then, I often strolled along the path near the bus station. Wild sunflowers were still abundant, covering the red soil on both sides of the path with blossoms. The red of the earth, the yellow of the flowers, and the green of the leaves stretched out, creating a stunning and shimmering tapestry of colors in the sunlight.

Now, upon returning, the old place has been cleared, and the wild sunflowers have suddenly disappeared, leaving only withered, decaying flowers. But if you know where to look, you will still find the vibrant colors of wild sunflowers everywhere. And standing before that scene, one cannot help but feel affection for this flower. The beauty of the wild sunflower is the beauty of the collective, the beauty of being close together, side by side. It does not possess a solitary beauty; perhaps this is also the meaning when mentioning the wild sunflower?

My literature teacher once said she loved looking at flowers. When flowers grew along the riverbank, sometimes she and her friends would pick branches and drop them into the water, watching them float by with a touch of wistfulness, yet also a sense of ethereal beauty and poetry.

I remember once I plucked a petal, held it in my hand, and savored its solitary scent. The yellow color seemed to fade, drooping down, the petals soft as flowing fabric, spreading out beautifully. The large orange pistil was like the roots, the mother of the petals, while the leaves and branches were the protective fathers.

Then one day, I plucked a branch of flowers, gently swirling them down the hillside. There, the petals fluttered in the wind, intertwining like wind-blown flowers.

The vast, sprawling forest of flowers seems to awaken, welcoming back its young child. The beauty of the flower fields is even more captivating during the rainy season. Those with romantic souls, standing under an umbrella and watching the raindrops falling through the leaves, will find it incredibly poetic. The most beautiful moments are during light rain, when the entire curtain of rain resembles a hazy mist amidst the golden hues of the flowers.

On sunny days, the flowers take on a fairytale beauty; the sunlight must be envious! Its dazzling brilliance is no match for the gentle, overflowing yellow of the blossoms. The entire hillside seems to glow, vast and warm.

Sipping my bitter tea, I suddenly remembered the flower fields of yesteryear. I wondered if they still rustled with the melancholy of the wind; if the flowers still stretched across the hillsides and riverbanks for children to admire and play in; if they still retained that gentle golden glow.

Memories suddenly flooded back intensely.

My heart suddenly yearned for something. Something I couldn't quite define; it seemed that concepts of human emotion could never be given a name. I only knew it was a feeling, a feeling that urged me to return to the old place, the place that once stirred something gentle in my heart.

Yes! November is the month when the wild sunflowers bloom.../.

Bien Bach Ngoc

Source: https://baolongan.vn/mua-hoa-da-quy-a205958.html