Flowers make spring bloom
Reading this quote from Zen master Dogen: “Spring makes flowers bloom, flowers make spring bloom”, I turned to him and said: “I understand this feeling. No matter how gloomy I was before, the moment spring comes, feeling the strange joyful atmosphere of heaven and earth, my heart is still strangely happy”.
Indeed! There is no Spring that I am not happy. There is no Spring that I do not decorate my house with fresh flowers and spend my time doing the things I love. There is no Spring that I do not enjoy the pleasant air of the land and sky with a free spirit.
I asked:“Do you love spring?”
He replied:“Of course! You have to go through the cold winter days, observing the movement of everything around you to truly know what spring is.”
I asked: "Do you love Spring?"
I am a Saigon girl with two rainy and less rainy seasons all year round, so I cannot feel Spring the way you do. But thanks to you, thanks to the Spring we have traveled together from the sea to the highlands, encountering so many wet rains at the change of seasons, so many forests of flowers blooming every spring, so many green grasslands full of vitality… I have my own Spring.
I still remember clearly the first time I visited his hometown in Ba Vi, Hanoi, right at the time of the changing seasons. The cold winter days gradually gave way to the first drizzle of the new year, to the gentle rays of sunlight awakening the gardens. He drove me on the dike road, turning into villages with red tiled roofs, past fields of golden rapeseed flowers swaying in the spring breeze still carrying the chill of the old season.
Coming home, I felt strangely happy. My mother's garden was always full of flowers: roses, bougainvillea, chrysanthemums, orchids, white apricots, yellow apricots, dahlias... The peach tree in front of the gate with its pale pink petals looked fragile, but at the same time, full of the beauty of a young girl. Every year on Tet, children who live far away come home to visit their parents and often bring pots of flowers from the garden into the house to display. My mother said: "When you come back, spring will come into the house. When you don't come back, spring is still at the gate."
The peach tree in front of the gate with its pale pink petals looks fragile, but at the same time, full of the beauty of a girl in spring.
January may bring a cold snap, but the sun shines brightly afterward. I once experienced the pure joy of a warm spring day when my parents called everyone in the family to take their damp bedding and clothes out to dry in the middle of the yard. The scene reminded me of a poem by the poet Sekiu:
“The little sparrow
Bring the joy of travel
In the wings to fly"
During the first days of spring this year, I spent time sitting next to a pot of chrysanthemum tea with its gentle fragrance lingering in the corner of the house, slowly reading Japanese poems translated into Vietnamese and neatly arranged in the book “Three Thousand Fragrant Worlds” by author Nhat Chieu. In it, he mentioned the above poem and wrote:“Surpassing their clouds, those birds have flown to the end of song, the end of poetry. However, how can poetry have an end? No, it is just a return. Returning to the first song. Returning to the early morning of every early morning. To play with nothingness, with the early morning, with the Spring of every Spring… Only children and birds know how to play, have the spirit of play of nothingness.”
It must be said that Spring is a favorite theme of poets, writers, painters, musicians... Throughout the past to the present, the cycle of Spring keeps returning, bringing with it so much excitement to sensitive souls who are always moved by nature. Perhaps, I have never lived fully in every moment of Spring, but I always nurture Spring in my mind and am sure that each Spring is a return to meet myself with loved ones, joyful like a little sparrow.
Throughout the ages, the cycle of Spring keeps returning, bringing with it so much excitement to sensitive souls who are always moved by nature.
"Spring makes flowers bloom"
There are countless springs in my mind. They are beautiful times to watch the “spring flowers bloom”.
One day in January, we woke up at 5am and walked into the pine forest of Ban Ang, Moc Chau, around the lake, looking for a good spot to watch the sunrise. I had to wear two thin layers of sweaters and a thick coat over them. At around 6:30am, the sun rose, the light reflected on the sparkling lake, sometimes dim, sometimes bright. Every moment was so stunningly beautiful that no words or pictures could describe it.
The pine trees appearing and disappearing under the morning mist and the first rays of sunlight reminded me of my visit to Ba Vi Mountain in the early morning. The sunlight passing through the tall pine trees created dark and light lines on the trail, beautiful as a dream. I also remember the spring in Da Lat. In addition to the beauty of the clear light on the pine hills, we also admired together the beautiful natural picture when the cherry blossoms bloomed one after another. The brilliant pink flowers filled the sky.
The bright pink flowers filled the sky
Continuing our spring trip to Moc Chau, we wanted to go to the villages deep in the mountains so we rented a motorbike and crossed the narrow, bumpy, bumpy roads. We followed the trail between the white mustard valley leading to Thong Cuong village. On both sides of the road, apricot flowers covered everything. We entered the apricot forest. The pure white flowers made our hearts flutter and we didn’t want to leave, just wandering around in that romantic scene until it got dark.
The next day, we stood halfway up the mountain overlooking Pa Phach village, feeling the peaceful beauty of spring. The green buds of spring had sprouted. Herds of cows leisurely walked on the path in the middle of the valley. A tribal girl with a basket walked slowly. A mother breastfeeding her child sat in front of her house. Black children with red cheeks ran and played in the fields. Smoke from the kitchen rose high.
In my memory of Spring, there are still white bauhinia flowers. That time, we went to Dien Bien together. March is the time when bauhinia flowers are in full bloom, but at that time it was February, the flowers were just beginning to bloom, you have to stand and watch for a long time, using your hand to cover your eyes from the sun to see the flowers peeking out from the high branches. Feeling sorry for the Southern girl who was going to Dien Bien for the first time, he secretly climbed up the tree, picked down a pure white bauhinia flower and gave me. Bauhinia flowers have long been a symbol of the city. The tone of the people here when mentioning bauhinia flowers or the Dien Bien Phu victory always carries the same pride. The bauhinia tree, steadfast through time, protected the soldiers during the war. According to legend, bauhinia flowers are also the incarnation of a Thai ethnic girl whose love is unfinished. Perhaps, when spring brings back bauhinia flowers, it also brings back the belief in love, so even a traveler like me has a deep love for bauhinia flowers?
In my memory of Spring there are still white bauhinia flowers
Remembering another spring full of colorful flowers and laughter in Ha Giang. The sunny sky after several days of drizzling rain led us to visit Lao Xa village, Sung La commune, about 25 km from Dong Van town. Following the winding road between two towering cliffs covered in silver clouds, a peaceful, dreamy scene appeared before our eyes. Groups of children in colorful brocade shirts had just finished school, rushed out the gate, holding hands and walking across the rapeseed flower fields home. Deep in the village, each house with earthen walls appeared vividly. Mixed with the yellow color of old time were the pink and white colors full of vitality of peach, plum and pear blossoms. I was fascinated by the spring flower branches hanging on the stone walls of the houses. The beauty was simple but everyone had to exclaim.
On the way from Dong Van to Meo Vac, we were able to admire the magnificent natural scenery. Along the way, there were bee farms, black chicken farms, lush green mustard fields, patches of green grass dotted with pretty wildflowers, paintings made from dew drops on spider webs and grass, and hills covered with buckwheat flowers with tiny purple-pink and white petals, a modest beauty in the vast mountains and forests. Our car had to stop every few minutes because everyone wanted to take in all the beauty of the season with all their senses. We walked on the hill among the buckwheat flower beds in full bloom, feeling like those flowers, full of life.
During that time, I came home and was absent-minded, only knowing how to hold on to Spring in a few verses:
“Spring leans on red lips
Peach petals tilt on the faded pink tiled roof
Your figure leaning on the new season painting
The scent of time lingers and holds people's feet
I thought I was not yet twenty years old
Holding the dream of returning to the old innocent land
Slowly love, slowly wait for sleep
Awakened when the leaves sprout
In my dream I met a me
One me, one me, and another me
Finding the meaning behind the meaning
Searching, and lost, searching again…
The clear blue sky will not be peaceful
If anyone dares to tie, bind, the wind will hurt!
Strolling through the spring scenery, I also encountered “me” standing on a high cliff by the California Bay, looking down at the sea. The soft carpet of pink and purple wildflowers made an ideal landing place for pelicans. In the distance, a flock of seals lay freely on the wharf. Along both sides of the streets of San Francisco, on the Hollywood Hills, in the parks, forests, waterfalls, every corner of California was covered with flowers.
Walking through the spring scenery, I also encountered "me" standing on a high cliff by the Gulf of California, looking down at the sea.
“One me” is heading towards the Wasatch Mountains where the thick snow slowly melts under the late spring sun, looking like a patchwork of dyed silk. “Another me” is sitting behind the car window, taking a spring trip to the sunny and windy Central Highlands, watching butterflies flutter across the hills, singing loudly “Spring Love Song” composed by Tran Hoan from a poem by poet Nguyen Loan. The first part of the song is both sweet and poetic: “My dear, Spring has come to the branches and leaves. The birds’ chirps are so sweet that the sky is so blue. A familiar scent sounds like warm lips. It sounds like the earth is stirring to grow from deep within.”
The song was written around the time when he and his wife had just reunited. The couple's joy in building a new life mixed with their thoughts when the country was still facing many difficulties. Spring is not only a natural phenomenon, but also carries the meaning of hope. It is believed that wherever there is Spring, there, all things grow, "bringing joy to play" like Sekiu's little birds participating in the joyful game of heaven and earth.
“My dear, Spring has come to the branches and leaves. The birdsong is so sweet that the sky is so blue. A familiar scent sounds like warm lips. It sounds like the earth is stirring to grow from deep within.”
