I brought home a laurel plant when it was still stunted. I watered it every day, not noticing the tiny green buds sprouting. One morning, the scent of laurel wafted into my bedroom. It was so sweet and captivating! I opened the door and stepped outside, astonished. Spring was coming, the season of wandering footsteps and a touch of melancholy at the end of the year for young people. Winter, the season of numbness and aches for the elderly, was about to pass...
On my balcony, there's a pot of jasmine. It's the large-petaled, less fragrant variety, blooming profusely during the day, only to have its petals fall like white snow on the tiled floor overnight. It brings back memories of Nha Trang. There was a time when, along the traffic divider on the coastal road, a whole stretch of jasmine bloomed, its branches turning white; even the tiny seedlings below the surface rushed to bloom to keep up with the larger plants. It reminded me of the small jasmine plants with their intensely fragrant blossoms from my childhood. In the evenings, the whole family would sit outside in the yard, admiring the flowers. The night was enchanting. A night overflowing with love. The next morning, my mother would pick some flowers and put them in her teapot. The scent of jasmine embraced us throughout our childhood...
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| Photo: GC |
I remember the two magnolia trees planted in front of my sister's old house in Nha Trang at this time of year, their blossoms beginning to shyly appear. The magnolia trees had only a few scattered flowers, yet their fragrance filled a corner of the street. Back then, my house was on Tran Binh Trong Street, and my sister's was on Le Chan Street. The two houses were about 400 meters apart. Every afternoon, my two children and I would go to her house to play. I liked sitting and looking out at the street, talking about all sorts of things with my mother and my sister until late at night before going home. Some nights, my sister and I would take our guitars out in front of the house and sing: "The night smells like a stream of milk..." On peaceful winter nights, the scent of magnolia and laurel lingered on the road from her house to mine, sometimes faint, sometimes strong; the sound of our footsteps on the quiet road, the yellow streetlights slanting. One day, near Tet (Vietnamese New Year), my sister took a picture of a mother carrying her child in front, with a basket of marigolds behind her. Twenty years have passed, and the child from those days has grown up. How could he possibly know that such a lovely picture, capturing a mother's boundless love, exists...?
My old house used to have two milkwood trees in front, and during this season, the strong scent of the milkwood flowers overpowered the smell of other flowers. My neighbors often complained that the smell of the milkwood was too intense and unpleasant! I, however, preferred it when the milkwood flowers only bloomed in small clusters, enough to make the night fragrant and light.
On my balcony, there's a small pot of apricot blossoms. It's the bonsai apricot tree I bought for Tet some year and then left on the balcony, hardly ever looked after. The tree still lives on, its leaves covered in dust clinging to its bare branches. This morning, following the scent of laurel, I opened the door and stepped outside. The slender branches of the apricot tree silently displayed their beauty, albeit with only a few petals. The color of the flowers brightened a small corner, instilling in me hope to continue the new day. The path ahead will not only be filled with nostalgic scents but also with colors full of hope. Thank you, season of fragrance and golden blossoms.
DAO THI THANH TUYEN
Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/sang-tac/202512/mua-huong-ff47b8b/
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