Spring blossoms are in full bloom every day

What impressed me about the house where my father lived now was not the books filled with large and small bookcases, nor the gorgeous high-rise buildings in the distance outside the house, but the two pots of pink flowers on the balcony that bloomed all year round.

The structure of the day-to-day spring flowers is super simple, with only one layer, a few petals of silky leaves surrounding a little darker flower heart. This was the first flower the world presented to me. Whether in my hometown, in Taiwan, or in California, usa, the spring flowers of the day touch my unchanging memories and nostalgia for decades with various colors.

Grandpa was a Hoi An stonemason, and Grandma was a Hoi An farmer. Although they are "rough people", they love flowers all their lives, especially grandpa. I don't know if it was a coincidence or my grandfather deliberately chose it, but the bungalow I lived in when I was 9 years old had 4 plants in the 4 corners of the outer courtyard: evening primrose, color leaves (an ornamental plant with mixed leaves), roses and guavas. Not long after moving in, Grandpa planted a moon plant in the patio and weaved a circular bamboo hedge for it. The vines of that month climbed up according to Grandpa's wishes, and the fragrant moon flowers covered the corner of the patio. Under the flowers of the moon, Grandpa made a round stone table (many years later I visited Hoi An and saw the exact same stone table on Chongwu Beach), and on a refreshing night, Grandpa sat at the stone table under the moon, drinking tea and fanning the fan, admiring both the moon and the flowers.

Grandpa was not satisfied with this, so he asked someone to help move two stone strips and put them on the other end of the patio. Within two days, Grandpa had placed more than ten pots of beautiful flowers on top of the stone strips. I remember and called orchids, chrysanthemums, begonias, jasmine, and so on. In order to move the stone, Grandpa sprained his waist and fell ill. After I went abroad, I dreamed many times back to the patio, those two stone strips, those flowers...

Compared with grandpa, grandma is relatively simple and content, and she likes everything that grandpa adds. The jasmine flowers at home are white and white in color, fragrant, and look like miniature peonies. Grandma loves its whiteness and aroma, and sometimes picks one and pins it to her ear. The elegance and light fragrance of orchids have a special charm. In addition, Grandpa would cultivate carved daffodils. I don't know where my grandfather, who came from a stonemason, who dyes clothes, who weaves bamboo, and even who later worked full-time to repair teeth and repair teeth, learned the techniques of narcissus cultivation. His patience was even more first-rate. The daffodils he cultivated with his own hands bloomed on the balcony of his hometown every year, like fairies facing the wind.

Unlike Grandpa, Grandma appreciates flowers with grace. Grandpa did not put the spring flowers in his eyes, but Grandma planted several plants by hand. This flower is well cared for, drought tolerant and not afraid of waterlogging. All year round, the flowering period is like spring. In the yard flowers appear to be a little sparse season, the daily spring flowers will be very eye-catching.

Grandparents have passed away one after another, and it is my mother who inherits the "flower industry". Dad and Mom didn't forget to bring a few pots of flowers with them during the heavy moving process. The flowers were raised by the mother on the long ringed balcony outside the apartment building. In those seemingly ordinary days, the mother with limited mobility has been taking care of the flowers. Mom advocates simplicity, especially love the day and spring. Before going abroad, she specially wrote a lyric for me with the petals of the spring flowers.

Shortly after I went abroad, my mother left. After many years of leaving home, I went home to visit my relatives, and I couldn't see my grandparents or my mother, only the tenacious spring on the round-shaped balcony, stretching out long flower branches and shaking pink petals. Under the blue sky, I stared at the sun and spring, and then I saw the figures of my grandparents and mothers, and saw their voices, smiles and charms.

At that time, the other flowers on the stone strips in the patio had withered or disappeared, but the spring flowers were there persistently waiting, waiting for home, waiting for my return, waiting to share the temperature of my child and home with me. For so many years abroad, the daily spring flower has become the flower of the homeland that I remember the most and feel the most. Over time, we are close to each other, but also the end of the world. The daily spring flower, with its soft penetration, became the DNA of my life.