Flower garden and sister

Returning to my hometown in Tho Ha ancient village after a long time studying in the city, I stood stunned in front of the yellow mustard flowers in the sunny winter afternoon on the bank of my pond. There, there was a picture of my sister wading through the burden of watering vegetables. Her shirt was dyed in the afternoon sun, her bright smile on her dimples made her charm when she caught the gaze of her younger brother who had been away for many days.

In the cold weather, each mustard flower blooms with its golden color as if it wants to cover the winter with a warm sweater, and as if it is filled with emotions in a gentle, poetic but seductive note full of sound. sharp. Standing in the middle of that gentle yellow color, we can see all the peaceful and quiet taste of the poor, but peaceful, and peaceful countryside. Canola flowers make love in the middle of winter, or do we ourselves become sweeter in the midst of so many pure golden colors? I cannot answer. I just know that there are so many emotions flowing in me. Life seems to be filled with energy from those golden petals.

Canola flowers do not bloom all four seasons like some other flowers. This field flower is only for me on cold winter days to warm up a little yellow sunshine and then fade away. It’s like a glimpse of a girl’s beauty in her youth. Like her sister that day, eighteen, twenty, full of spring, because of her family situation, for the future of her younger siblings, she had to hide her burning dreams and then stay at home to help her mother take care of the vegetable garden in Tho Ha ancient village

In the past, cabbage was not grown for viewing. Those are my mother’s vegetable stalls every morning in exchange for food twice a day, in exchange for gift coins, and a piece of cake for my sister and me every time she comes home from the market. Only the mustard seed is taken care of to bloom to set fruit and get seeds for the next season.

When I was a child, I used to stand by the pond, attentively watching the delicate broccoli swaying in the wind in Tho Ha ancient village. It was still winter afternoons, with my friends playing hide and seek, hiding under the yellow mustard flowers, laughing when you found them; and the flower next door picked the broccoli into bundles to play with and then suffered a few times from her mother’s whip.

The most memorable is still the season of canola flowers when she was eighteen years old, he went to his house to tell his parents to ask to go back and forth with her. When he was on his way to do military service, every time I received a letter from him, I was very happy. Happiness makes her dimpled cheeks blush pink and shy. At that time, I often looked at her and then slyly sang: “There is a season of canola flowers / Yellow bloom by the river bank / I am a girl / Wait for you to get married…”

Then he was allowed to stay in the unit. Time to seep away. The letters she sent were uncountable, but she waited for his letter to arrive in fatigue and anticipation. Then gradually… and no more letters came back. The dates of the mustard season this year, that year… just drift away in silence, far away. She was still waiting for him even though she knew it was hopeless in Tho Ha ancient village

One day at the end of winter, her eyes were filled with unspeakable sadness. Wrapping my arms around her, I whispered: Do you smell the scent of mustard flowers? A scent that is not strong, only faint, suffocating but long-lasting and enough to attract those butterflies and bees to fly back. Each small petal is still bright yellow in the cold weather. It’s so special, so durable, isn’t it? She turned to look at me with a bright smile and then looked back into the vast space in front of her. I held a flower stalk and tried to take a deep breath, as if trying to make her happy.

The season of rapeseed flowers. How many beautiful memories of her once flooded back. Hot fists; the times when brothers and sisters sat together, humming a verse about the yellow color of canola flowers; the times he picked bright yellow broccoli, where tiny, pretty petals were placed in her hair… She looked away, her eyes filled with sadness. Then she softly sang the song she used to sing: “There is a season of canola flowers / Blooming yellow by the river bank / I am a girl / Waiting for you to get married…”

I understand your feelings, how much I love you.

To learn more about Tho Ha ancient village, please contact with nobletours.net./.

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