Flower-covered hills

I grew up in a small corner of Pleiku (Gia Lai) from my childhood, where houses were only about ten steps apart, with low, uneven corrugated iron roofs and antennas for old televisions. The winding, red dirt roads snaked into the forests and fields, some with rubber trees, coffee plants, and even patches of flower-covered hillsides.

Back then, we children would often stand on the high grassy hills near our house, gazing into the distance at the vibrant colors that changed with the seasons. Sometimes it was the green of leaves, sometimes the white of flowers, and other times a brilliant yellow like the autumn sun. We would just stand far away and try to guess what it was. Was it a rubber forest yielding its white latex, a coffee plantation with its fragrant blossoms, or a patch of yellow wildflowers swaying in the autumn sky?

Wild sunflowers are most beautiful in early autumn, with their vibrant green leaves and delicate, budding flowers. After the summer months, the falling rain washes away the dust, and Pleiku seems to be adorned in a bright, colorful coat that stretches along every tree-lined street. However, you have to venture further from the city center to find the golden hues of the wild sunflowers in full bloom.

As a child, I hated the bitter, pungent taste of that wild flower, but as I grew older, I came to see how beautiful and proud it was. It's a characteristic flower of the windswept Central Highlands, nourished by the fertile red basalt soil. Adults often use it as a metaphor to teach their children that they should be as resilient as the flower when they grow up; even after enduring storms and rains, and withering countless times, it continues to sprout and grow, its soft petals unfurling with each passing season, its vibrant colors never ceasing to bloom.

And then, somehow, I stopped hating the patches of wild sunflowers growing right next to my house. I don't know when it started, but I began to enjoy photographing the forests of flowers in full bloom as autumn arrives. I don't know whether the sun or the flowers are more vibrant. I'm not sure if, as the years pass, the flowers will remain fresh and bloom again every autumn.

Now, as the rain finally stops, tourists flock to the mountain town, admiring the gentle autumn colors of Pleiku, watching the sunlight fall awkwardly on the breezy verandas. Or they venture far from the city center, traveling elsewhere just to see the patches of yellow flowers, posing with them, and seeing if they can outshine the vibrant hues of the sun. The flowers proudly hold their heads high in the sunlight, their green leaves swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.

I grew up with the seasons of flowers, and the more I understood about the wild sunflower, the more I loved it and wanted to capture its beauty in each season. The flowers remain vibrant, but I had to grow up, leave behind the low, dilapidated houses, and find myself amidst the endless years. Occasionally, I look back at the photos I took of a flowering season, wishing I could be like the flower, forever radiant in the autumn sun, thriving regardless of the ever-changing Central Highlands.

LI PHAN

Source: https://www.sggp.org.vn/nhung-vat-doi-hoa-post816396.html