The purple blossoms of the rhododendron evoke memories…

Having lived in the countryside, almost everyone knows about the crape myrtle flower. It's an annual flower that blooms from the end of January until the summer days, when the warm sun fills the land. Bushes and clumps of them all burst into bloom, displaying their radiant purple hues. For me, the crape myrtle is a memory, a gentle recollection of my sweet and unforgettable childhood, even though those years are long gone.

Located near the mountains, my hometown used to have many barren, abandoned hills. The soil wasn't fertile, but the rhododendron flowers grew abundantly there, each bush lush and green, and then, about a few dozen days after the Lunar New Year, they would begin to bloom and bear fruit. Simple, rustic, and delicate, yet the rhododendron flower is also incredibly resilient, enduring the harsh conditions of nature. It seems that the more sun it gets, the more flowers bloom and the more beautiful they become. The five-petaled flowers resemble small windmills, spreading out with clusters of yellow stamens in the center, as if wanting to show off their beauty to the earth, the sky, and all things.

When we were children, on school holidays, we would often come here to let the buffaloes and cows graze and then play freely in this peaceful, idyllic setting. While the boys played mock battles and blindfolded tag, the girls would break leaves to lay under the lush, shady trees nearby, then find pebbles to sit on and play catch; sometimes they would pick flowers and string them together to make fake crowns to see who could make the prettiest…

The mua tree is not only for its flowers but also for its fruit. The mua fruit isn't large, usually only about the size of a baby's finger. When ripe, it has a delightful combination of astringent, sour, and sweet flavors, especially the plump, ripe ones whose skins crack open to reveal clusters of heart-shaped, purplish flesh. Sometimes, in the late afternoon, we'd play, picking mua fruit until our tongues were stained purple. We'd lie under the old mua bushes, chatting about all sorts of things amidst the breezy evening breeze, with white clouds drifting gently across the sky.

Along with many other plants and flowers, the crape myrtle flower was like a close friend to us. As we grew older, some of us would pick crape myrtle flowers and press them between the pages of our books. Some boys would use the image of the crape myrtle flower to write their first naive poems, wanting to give them to someone, but then too shy to do so…

In my hometown, there's a fairy tale that tells of a young woman who bid farewell to her lover as he went to war. But amidst the fierce battlefield, the young man fell, fighting for his country. Waiting too long, the young woman passed away and transformed into a crape myrtle tree, which blooms with purple flowers year after year on the barren hills. The poet Thanh Trac Nguyen Van has a beautiful poem titled "Cypress Flower" with these lines: "Once upon a time, we two would play together every afternoon / Picking lots of crape myrtle flowers / She sold the flowers, I bought them / The money was the fallen leaves at the end of the golden season / Then I tied the leaves into a string / I tied the flowers to the leaves, tied day to night / I made a wedding bouquet to give to her / A wreath of purple flowers on her soft hair by the riverbank…"

I'm not a poet, but I really love crape myrtle flowers. They've become a source of nostalgia for me. Yesterday, I rode my motorbike from Nha Trang along Pham Van Dong road to Luong Son, and on the winding mountain pass, I suddenly saw a bush of crape myrtle flowers blooming profusely with purple blossoms near the roadside, next to a patch of reeds. I stopped to look at the flowers, and a wave of longing washed over me…

HOANG PHU LOC

Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/sang-tac/202503/hoa-mua-no-tim-troi-ky-uc-e0d0d55/