The longan tree that Mrs. Nam planted in the corner of the yard next to my house must have been there for decades. I remember back in the late 1990s, when my family moved here, we already saw the tree with its lush branches and sturdy trunk, casting shade over a large area of the yard. On leisurely afternoons, I often took my children to Mrs. Nam's house to play. We would sit and chat on the porch, watching the neighborhood children play under the tree. The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air. Neighborly bonds were strengthened during those afternoons, fostering closeness, empathy, and shared experiences.
Around the end of February and beginning of March, the longan tree quietly blooms. Small, delicate clusters of pale yellow flowers drift on the breeze, carrying a gentle fragrance. Having experienced many seasons of these blossoms and that subtle scent, I've come to realize that amidst the hustle and bustle of modern life, the gentle yet captivating fragrance of this familiar tree acts as a spiritual balm, bringing peace to my heart. Perhaps it's because, to fully appreciate the essence of the longan blossom's scent, one's mind must be truly tranquil, whether in the early morning or late at night, when the fragrance is at its strongest. In March, along with the intoxicating scent of pomelo and the fragrant aroma of lemon, the longan blossom contributes to the subtle charm of life.
The longan ripening season is usually in July. Clusters of plump, brown or light yellow fruits hang heavily on the branches; just looking at them reveals their juiciness, sweet taste, and distinctive aroma.
When Mrs. Nam's longan tree was in season and bearing ripe fruit, almost every day, the children in my neighborhood would gather in front of the yard, their eyes fixed on the clusters of fruit. As soon as Mrs. Nam nodded, one of them would quickly run into the kitchen to grab a long pole with a clever clip attached to one end and a large basket. And after ten minutes, the small yard would be filled with joyful laughter and exclamations of how sweet and delicious the longan was.
Every time I see the children eagerly picking clusters of sweet longan, I can't help but remember my own childhood days. Back then, my grandfather also planted two longan trees by the pond. He said they were cage-grown longan, and he painstakingly bought the saplings from Hung Yen, with large, round, smooth-skinned, crisp flesh, translucent like amber, and a sweet, refreshing, and fragrant juice. However, when planted in the barren soil of my hometown, the longan fruit didn't have the sweetness and fragrance he described, but it was still enough to make my friends and I eagerly anticipate its harvest.
July arrived in my hometown, bringing with it storms. After each storm, the small pond bridge would be covered with fallen longan leaves and fruit. My grandfather would roll up his sleeves, bend down, and search for the fallen longans, washing them in a basket before telling me to share them with my friends. The longans, soaked in water overnight, had an unexpectedly sweet and refreshing taste. That sweet, fragrant taste has stayed with me to this day.
Listening to the sound of longan fruit falling on the roof, I was reminded of the verses by poet Tran Dang Khoa that I had memorized since childhood. It was the poem "Longan Fragrance" from the collection "Corner of the Yard and the Sky": "Every year when the longan ripens / Brothers and sisters return home / He climbs swiftly / Reaching for the clusters of fruit / This year the longan season has come / He hasn't returned home yet / Our longan trees, bombed by bombs / Still bloom with golden flowers (...) / At night, the longan fragrance intensifies / Fragrant outside and inside the house / My mother lies awake / Missing him who is far away..."
When I was little, every time I read poems in this collection like "Longan Scent," "Banyan Tree," "Playing Tam Cuc," "The Yellow Butterfly," etc., I secretly dreamed that one day I would also know how to write poetry, and be able to express my thoughts and feelings through each page.
I suddenly caught the scent of longan fruit carried on the breeze. I stood up, reached for my umbrella, and started to walk over to Mrs. Nam's house.
Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/thuong-hoai-mua-nhan-post562253.html
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