Autumn sings on the hill

Early in the morning, strolling leisurely through the streets, gazing at the trees, I felt a gentle sadness welling up in my heart as I saw the leaves of the Terminalia catappa tree turning a deep red. My heart stirred, wondering how many paintings of the season that red hue had once painted against the vast blue sky. Then, gazing at the paintings, my heart resonated with a melody, as if one day I would sit and listen to autumn whispering its song. Turning back towards Lake Biển Hồ, I immersed myself in the mist. Walking through the mist, like a fine drizzle in the North, I felt an overwhelming longing for a "winter that hid you"...

In this mountain town, I hear autumn singing in the gentle rustling of coffee beans on the branches, in the deep red breath of the earth as the first rays of sunlight rise. And, as if by some strange coincidence, I walk up the small slope leading to Bong Phun village. A dry leaf falls slowly, as if deliberately delaying its descent. The sound of falling leaves, a symphony of autumn on the hill.

For many years, Bong Phun village has lived peacefully alongside the town, steadfastly preserving the ancient culture of the Jrai people. Season after season, year after year, the "brown-skinned, bright-eyed" people diligently work the fields, together building a peaceful and warm village. The freshness and vitality are increasingly evident on every face and in every house.

Along the gently winding path leading into the village, I indulged in admiring the vibrant colors of flowers in the cool, misty air. Here, the delicate purple of the string of pearls plants formed a green hedge in front of the time-worn stilt house. Here, the cosmos flowers swayed, their white petals glistening with morning dew. In the distance, the lilies and golden phoenix flowers shone brightly in the sunlight. All of this created a picturesque natural scene, harmonizing with the melodies of the countryside.

I lingered for a long time by the hibiscus hedge, its lush green foliage adorned with the vibrant red of budding flowers. Gently lifting a flower, a flood of memories rushed back. As a child, my friends and I used to pick hibiscus leaves and flowers to play pretend. Each leaf was worth a thousand dong, used to "buy" ripe, sweet bananas from Grandma's garden, or segments of pink pomelo peeled by Mom, or more often, bunches of golden-yellow figs or ripe red mulberries that the neighborhood boys had just picked. As for the flowers, we would often pick them to wear in our hair or strip off the delicate petals and paste them onto paper to make pictures. Not to mention, with those tiny, dewy buds, we would sometimes compete to pick them to inhale the sweet nectar.

Late in the afternoon, I invited a friend for a stroll. Following a familiar routine, we stopped our motorbike at the corner of Le Hong Phong Street—one of the most beautiful streets in the mountain town of Pleiku. Since the end of March 1975, this area had been home to several agencies under the Gia Lai Provincial Party Committee. My former workplace was also located at this very corner.

These days, from Le Hong Phong Street, I can feel the rich, ripe autumn colors on every tree and rooftop. Even more special is the intoxicating fragrance of the milk flower at the street corner every night. After all, isn't the milk flower known as the flower of Hanoi's autumn? And wasn't it me who once spent years wandering through Hanoi with my unfulfilled first love?

This is also because, right at the beginning of Le Hong Phong street, a milkwood tree has long been present. Its branches stretch out to catch the sunlight and the highland breeze, even reaching its highest branch towards the window of my office on the second floor. The tree's foliage remains lush green all year round, imbued with fragrance each autumn, sowing in my heart an enduring sense of nostalgia. And perhaps, that nostalgia is not unique to me, especially when I sit and listen to autumn singing on the hill...

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/mua-thu-hat-tren-doi-post566589.html