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Rain in the mountains

There are returns that require no warning. Just a clap of thunder echoing from the distant mountains, a gust of cold wind blowing through the window, and one suddenly knows the season has changed.

Báo Đắk LắkBáo Đắk Lắk08/06/2026

After days of scorching sun and afternoons of wind whipping up red dust that swirled across the hillsides, the first rains of the season finally returned, like an old promise from heaven and earth.

Throughout the long dry season, the Central Highlands endure a harsh, dry climate. The reddish basalt soil lies exposed to the sun. Coffee plantations stand silent, shrouded in a thin layer of dust. The roads, traversed by passing vehicles, churn up a murky red hue. The wind, sweeping across the hills, carries a stifling heat that lingers in the hair, eyes, and even in restless sleep.

In this land, people are accustomed to living with two very distinct seasons: a dry, scorching season and a rainy season overflowing with rainwater. Therefore, the final days of the dry season always hold a silent anticipation. Farmers look up at the sky more often, longing for dark clouds, hoping for a rain heavy enough to soften the soil and begin a new planting season.

Photo: Ama Phong
After days of dry, sunny weather, the first rains of the season have arrived, washing over the verdant Ban Mrr trees, making them even more vibrant. (In the photo: Dak Lak Museum). Photo: Ama Phong

Then the rain actually came.

That afternoon, the weather in Buon Ma Thuot was stiflingly hot. The air seemed still, as if waiting for something. From afar, dark clouds rolled down in layers, quickly turning the sky gray. A sudden, strong, cool wind swept through the dust-strewn trees along the roadside. The last dry leaves of the season were ripped from their branches, swirling in a corner of the road. The first thunder rumbled from the mountains, deep and resonant like the sound of a gong echoing from some remote village deep within the mountains. The farewell between heaven and earth was so dramatic and intense that one realized the season had changed.

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And then the rain started to fall.

The first raindrops of the season are always heavy. They fall on the corrugated iron roof with a pattering sound. In just a few minutes, the red dust is swept away, returning to the earth what it had borrowed throughout the dry season. From the ground rises the pungent, earthy smell of basalt soil meeting water – a scent both rustic and captivating, a pleasantness that only those who have lived through the dry season in the Central Highlands can fully understand.

Sitting by the small window, I listened to the torrential rain on the tin roof, the sound of water rushing in the drain. A cool, refreshing sensation spread across my arms and shoulders, dispelling the weariness that had accumulated over the sweltering days. Somewhere in the yard, the last yellow leaves gently swirled in the water before silently falling.

The bubbles rising and then bursting on the cement suddenly transported me back to the school porch of my childhood. Back then, it was raining just like this, and after school, students huddled under the porch, watching the rain blanket the courtyard. A hand accidentally touched mine as we both reached out to catch the raindrops. It was a very gentle touch, yet even now, amidst so much I've forgotten, I still remember it.

It's been over twenty years already. The stirrings of my school days, like this afternoon's rain, roared and then quietly faded into memory. Where my old friend is now in this vast world, I no longer know. Only the seasons always return on schedule. The same thunder. The same smell of red earth. The same feeling of my heart softening when I see the rain blanketing the mountains and hills.

Out there, the rain continues to fall on the coffee hills laden with fruit, on the reddish-brown basalt roofs, and on the winding slopes leading to the small villages. This first rain of the season not only brings water to the vast forests, but it also awakens the seedlings and stirs the waterfalls. Just a few more rains, and the Central Highlands will be green again. Young grass will sprout along the hillsides. The dried-up streams will fill with water once more. The land and sky will be reborn after months of scorching drought.

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So the season has changed.

Kim Ai

Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-xa-hoi/202606/mua-tren-dai-ngan-f4406b9/

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