Evening at the temple on the occasion of the beginning of spring.

We chose these three temples because all three are located in beautiful locations, possessing the atmosphere of an ancient capital, however little remains. Even though tomorrow is the full moon of the first lunar month, and "the whole year's festivities are not as important as the full moon of the first lunar month," we are afraid of the noisy, crowded, bustling, and noisy atmosphere of other temples and shrines, the kind that people usually prefer.

"I'm foolish to seek out secluded places."

"Wise people go to bustling places" (Leisure Scene - Nguyen Binh Khiem)

Fortunately, upon entering the first temple, Thien Nien Temple (Trich Sai), a serene and peaceful scene unfolded before my eyes. A few worshippers were scattered across the spacious, open temple courtyard. The atmosphere was tranquil, devoid of the harsh, jarring sounds of loudspeakers broadcasting misspelled words or the frantic shouts of people rushing to carry offerings and park their vehicles. Most delightful was the gentle spring breeze carrying the fragrance of crape myrtle flowers and other blossoms, the sweet scent of ripe fruit mixed with the aroma of young leaves, and the dampness of the morning's light rain… spreading far and wide, filling the hearts of visitors with a strangely serene feeling.

I told my friend: actually, if you want to see spring flowers, going to a temple is the best way to see them, because the prettiest, juiciest, freshest, and most fragrant flowers and fruit trees are brought by people to offer to the Buddha. At each temple, after offering flowers and praying to the Buddha, we would take another stroll around the temple, enjoying the scenery, admiring the brightly blooming peach blossoms, the ancient seven-inch peach trees laden with red flowers, and the small Buddha's hand citron trees with their abundant ripe yellow fruit, emitting a delicate fragrance. The gentle scent of the crape myrtle flowers clung to our feet, perhaps because all three temples were quiet and peaceful, so the crape myrtle fragrance wasn't overwhelmed by the strong incense or the thick smoke of votive paper offerings like at other "famous" temples.

My group of friends, some from Eastern Europe and Northeast Asia, finally got to go home for Tet after several years of Covid. They were engrossed in admiring the golden kumquat trees, posing happily next to the peach blossoms and rows of tiny white crape myrtle flowers, and sighing over the clusters of white roses still damp with dew and rain, or the fragrant cinnamon roses: "We love our roses so much, their colors are beautiful, they're delicate and sweetly fragrant, unlike Western roses which are big but have a faint scent."

I really enjoyed this morning. After a more than 10km bike ride for exercise, I met up with a friend and devoured a bowl of vermicelli with grilled pork skewers near Nui Truc Street before finding a pretty good parking spot. The whole group leisurely strolled to the temples one by one. Spring is usually full of mist and humidity, making many people uncomfortable, especially those with chronic rhinitis and sinusitis. But since moving from my "earthy house" to higher ground, avoiding the "floor sweating" period, I find this humid season strangely charming. The fine drizzle releases wisps of mist like delicate clouds, drifting over the leaves and branches, making the plants, especially the low-lying vegetation, seem to absorb sap. The entire space of flowers, leaves, and grasses exudes a vibrant, easily perceptible life force, creating an undeniable sense of delight. Leaves wet with water, flowers covered in dew, and tender green shoots sometimes adorned with strings of pearls—water droplets clinging to layers of spiderwebs—create a delightful and exhilarating sight.

Passing by each temple, there's a small slope leading down to Ve Ho Street, right by the edge of West Lake. Surrounding it are the ancient and beautiful communal houses and temples of Xuan Tao and Nhat Tan villages. These architectural structures would be even more beautiful if it weren't for the red banners bearing the words "Happy New Year" strung across the main gates, some taut, some loose, fluttering precariously in the New Year's breeze.

How many temples like this are there in the ancient citadel of Thang Long? How many temples like this are there in the entire Great Viet kingdom? I sat down to rest on a stone bench in the courtyard of Tao Sach Temple, and the question silently arose in my mind. This shows just how rich our country is in culture, how fortunate we are to have inherited so many precious treasures from our ancestors. Precious Buddha statues, magnificent temples and palaces painted in red and gold, standing firm against the ravages of time, through countless years of upheaval and change; stupas, exquisitely beautiful sculptures, centuries-old trees so large that several people would need to embrace them, still deeply rooted in the soil of Thang Long, drawing sap to protect the land and the villages. And what are we doing with these precious legacies that our ancestors have been so fortunate to bestow upon us?

Having inherited and benefited from it, as I and my friends here have, we must do something to develop and preserve it. Without further development, it will inevitably wither away.

Le Hong Lam