Beloved season of falling cotton blossoms

(GLO) - Beneath the vast pine trees, layer after layer of flower buds peek out at the clear blue sky, basking in the morning mist and early sunlight before gently bursting into bloom. So gently, so tenderly, these beloved flowers herald the arrival of season, in the crisp, verdant breeze.

These days, strolling along the roads of Gào commune, my gaze is drawn to swathes of fluffy white blossoms, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. Whether their branches rest on the sides of the village roads, in open fields, by small alley fences, in patches at the end of coffee plantations, or nestled beside pine trees, these slender herbaceous plants still vigorously stretch their branches, their blossoms vibrant and colorful.

Beside the pine trees, clusters of blossoms flutter in the wind, their colors bursting forth. Photo: Thai Binh

The cotton grass (also known as Lao grass or stinky grass) is a shrub that grows in large clumps, with stems reaching up to eye level, supporting each other as they flourish. This season, the sky of the Central Highlands seems higher and wider, embracing the deep green of the leaves, the pristine white of the flowers, and the warm brown of the soil. Walking beneath the rustling pine trees, I can almost feel the pungent, warm, spicy scent of the nearby cotton grass blossoms. The pure white of the flowers blends with the dark green of the pine needles, creating a unique beauty in this small, unspoiled corner of the highlands.

And the color of the flowers is truly poetic. Under the golden sunlight, the flowers are an endless expanse of white. During the flowering season, the entire space where the tree grows is covered in a gentle white, like clusters of soft blossoms, feeling as if a light touch would send each tiny petal drifting away on the wind. In some places, when they first bloom, the flowers possess a delicate pink hue or are tinged with a pale purple, evoking a wistful longing. Under the dreamy golden sunlight, the flowers whisper words of love, sounding as gentle as a grandmother's story about the tree's origins and its migration to our homeland.

My grandmother said that the cotton plant is often known by affectionate names like "bop bop," "Lao grass," or "stinky grass"... She once read a document that said this is an important plant species, originating from the Caribbean and North America, and then spreading to other continents. In our country, this herbaceous plant was recorded by botanists around 1930, when the communist movement was developing strongly. Perhaps that's why it's also called the communist plant.

This resilient plant is intertwined with my grandmother's childhood memories and youthful recollections. Just seeing its flowers brings back a flood of memories, sparkling in the crisp winter air. Furthermore, it's a useful plant, well-known in folk medicine for its ability to stop bleeding and heal wounds. As a child, when my grandmother and her friends played together, if someone fell and scraped their knee, they would simply pick a handful of leaves, chew them, and apply them to stop the bleeding. It was that simple, yet very effective. Later, with advancements in medicine, researchers discovered that this plant also has the ability to treat several other ailments.

That day, while chatting with me on the road leading to Gào commune, I met a resident of village C. Seeing me standing by the roadside, looking around and taking pictures of the cotton blossoms, he stopped his motorbike to strike up a conversation. He smiled and said, "Taking pictures of cotton blossoms? There are so many in our village. Every now and then, I see people passing through the village and commune stopping to take pictures with the flowers. Every year, at this time, the flowers bloom, so it's very familiar. For the people in our village, seeing the flowers bloom means Tet (Lunar New Year) is almost here."

Listening to him talk, I was suddenly startled. Indeed, it's almost the end of the year. Just like our conversation, after only a few sentences, the afternoon was already tinged with a chill. In an instant, the afternoon was gradually slanting towards the horizon. At the end of the road, the sunlight painted the clouds with a crimson purple hue. Drifting with the flowers in the gentle breeze, the afternoon flowed into my heart with a lingering feeling of the season—the season of falling blossoms.

And so, I have gained another season of flowers that evoke fond memories in this land of loyal basalt.

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/than-thuong-mua-hoa-bong-bay-post575341.html