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Post :Son Nguyen.Image:Son Nguyen, Lam Thanh
In that distant land, where jagged, rocky cliffs abound and life is still full of hardship, a season of flowers is in full bloom. It's unclear when it began, but autumn has become the season for wanderers who love to roam freely amidst the clouds, wind, and sky of this place.
In November, the corn stalks buried in the rocky crevices give way to another vibrant flower: buckwheat. From Sung La, the fields of pink and purple buckwheat flowers transport me from one dreamy floral landscape to another. I've come to love these late autumn days in Ha Giang so much that every year I pack my bags and head out, drifting amidst the stunning flowers blooming on the jagged rocks.
The first time I passed through Sung La, I was particularly impressed by the valley landscape that unexpectedly unfolded after a hairpin bend. From above, I could see sturdy rows of cypress trees reaching towards the sky and vibrant carpets of flowers. The valley was immersed in the fragrance of roses. Houses with earthen roofs lay silently in the sun, low stone fences stood tall, rose bushes in the gardens were laden with fruit, and firewood was piled high in the kitchen corner, ready for the coming cold winter. On the attic, the color of corn mingled with the color of soybeans drying in the sun. A Hmong girl sat weaving cloth at her loom; although she didn't speak much Vietnamese, she was still willing to offer me a cool drink to quench my midday thirst. The older children looked after the younger ones, playing on the steps, their bright black eyes following the strangers.
The Hmong people in Sung La cultivate buckwheat and rapeseed on the high hills, and corn and rice in the flat areas at the bottom of the valley. Interspersed among the vibrant green of the corn and rice are the lilac purple of the buckwheat flowers, the golden yellow of the sunlight, and the deep green of the towering cypress trees. The corn, growing among the jagged rocks, has been harvested and brought home. Corn is the main food source for the people of this land. It is used to make rice wine, cakes, and men men (a type of corn porridge). The corn cobs and stalks are dried and used for fuel. The rocky terrain is unsuitable for many crops. Therefore, the corn is grown in the crevices of the jagged rocks.
Every day, the Hmong people carry baskets of soil from far away, stuffing it into the crevices of the rocks, using stones to hold it in place to prevent rainwater from washing it away, and then planting corn seeds. The green corn stalks sprout and stretch themselves through the gray rocks, symbolizing life's continued resurgence in this barren land. Now I understand why the Lolo, Hmong, and Dao people all wear colorful scarves and graceful, multicolored skirts. Their blue and pink blouses stand out against the gray, jagged rocks. Their footsteps are swift and nimble throughout the highlands.
Passing through the corn harvest season, the road to Sung La is enveloped in carpets of buckwheat flowers. The delicate pinkish-purple petals captivate the hearts of countless travelers. The fragile buckwheat is planted after the rice harvest in September each year. Previously, the seeds were used to make cakes, but now they are mostly used as animal feed. The young buckwheat leaves are used as a green vegetable; when boiled, they are sweet and refreshing. Only the flowers are not used for anything, yet they fascinate passersby. Buckwheat becomes the flower of autumn, when the slanted sunlight still spreads its honey across the valley and the weather isn't too cold. We return to Sung La to sit by the stone fences and immerse ourselves in the enchanting scenery.
Buckwheat is grown throughout Ha Giang province, from Sung La to Lung Cu and Dong Van. Interspersed with the purple are the pristine white blossoms of the wild daisies that bloom along both sides of the road from Yen Minh to Dong Van and Meo Vac. These wildflowers are always present along every road, swaying in the morning mist, resilient in the frost, and radiant in the sun. They bloom white on the mountain slopes, even in the most treacherous crevices. Alongside these wildflowers is another stunning flower that only displays its radiant beauty in late autumn.
My friends came to Ha Giang because of the buckwheat flowers, a species only planted after the rice harvest and blooming a month later. But I came to Ha Giang for the wildflowers, for the lovely patches of flowers that bloomed fearlessly on the jagged rocks. Wildflowers bloomed brilliantly along every path. They mingled with corn stalks, reaching towards the sunlight. They adorned the winding roads through the mountains and forests, captivating passersby.
The patches of wildflowers are like the smiles of Hmong girls during the bustling harvest season, swaying gracefully in the early winter breezes. These wildflowers are both graceful and resilient; even after fading, their colors retain their vibrant orange-red hues, and their stems remain intact even after being picked, much like the hardworking people of this challenging land. Amidst the dry, crisp autumn sun, these wildflowers bloom most radiantly, before winter arrives and the cold winds begin to blow.
In late autumn, I carry with me a longing for Ha Giang. There, amidst the rugged, jagged rocks glistening in the sunlight, somewhere in the garden, orange blossoms are blooming, heralding a new season of fruit. There, alongside the golden sunlight, is the color of dried, burnt corn stalks, the color of the recently harvested corn crop, the color of golden soybeans.
There, each of the four seasons presents a different, breathtaking picture, and every season makes visitors reluctant to leave. There, in the most vibrant autumn season, are the fluffy carpets of purple buckwheat flowers and the dazzling fields of wildflowers on the precarious mountain slopes.
