I have always believed that I have a connection with flowers, and flowers have a connection with me. It may be because I love flowers too much. Fiery red roses, white and elegant daffodils, tranquil and secluded chrysanthemums, graceful spider plants… How many times have I inadvertently lingered in the fragrant bushes and couldn’t bear to leave. Looking up, there is a brilliant scene, and carefully feeling the fragrance of the whole garden. In the world of flowers, I can wander freely, let my heart, which is disturbed by the world, fly away, and freely pursue my dreams with the fragrance of flowers.
I like the colorful flowers, but also like a single flower; I like the artificially cultivated fragrant bushes, but also like the stars scattered on the mountain paths. So I often play wildly on the hillsides full of wild flowers. Let the body be covered with the fragrance of flowers with the smell of soil, put colorful flowers on my hair, and run fast in the mountains like an innocent child. When strolling in the bustling streets, in addition to admiring the colorful clothes like flowers, I will also go into the flower shop to see enough flowers of all sizes. I even don’t let go of the vase standing quietly in the corner. Sometimes I will be so nervous that I buy myself a flower—just a rose or a lily, holding it between two fingers and hiding it behind my back, or holding it carefully, scooping up a bunch of fragrance and enjoying it. I don’t care when passers-by look at me curiously. I just give them a touching smile in return. On a day with flowers, I have a mood as beautiful as a flower.
There are always poems when there are flowers. Wind, flowers, snow, moon… these are all integrated into the poems. I dare not imagine how bleak our world would be without flowers! Therefore, literati and poets of all dynasties have formed an indissoluble bond with flowers. I like the free and easy and lonely “A pot of wine among flowers, drinking alone without a date” by Li Bai, the tranquility of “fallen flowers, people stand alone, light rain swallows fly in pairs” by Yan Shu, and the thousands of emotions of “green fat, red thin” and “people are more beautiful than yellow flowers” by Li Qingzhao. I like Yuan Zhen’s “I am too lazy to look back at the flowers, half because of cultivation and half because of you” for its open-mindedness and enlightenment. From the gestation of buds to the blooming of petals, until the flowers fall and turn into spring mud, every process of the growth of flowers has been appreciated by the world, and too many emotions have been integrated. Every bit of flowers is described vividly. So I feel that the pen in my hand is too blunt, and I can’t write poems for flowers solemnly.
I appreciate and love flowers, so I am often moved. There are three times when I remember him giving me flowers that I remember very clearly. I always thought that I was too romantic, but in my heart, he was often unromantic. But I didn’t expect him to give me flowers. It was when I was about to become a mother (I must have looked ugly at that time, although my face was full of fear and happiness of becoming a mother). He picked a blooming red rose from somewhere, and I held it carefully, which made my girlfriends envious. The second time was when I was sick, and the white world of the hospital almost suffocated me. Two male classmates from middle school made an appointment to visit me and gave me a basket of flowers. There were chrysanthemums, carnations, roses, lilies… At that time, I felt so happy, as if there was a lot of hope flowing in my heart, and the disease seemed to be cured by half. Another time was during the May Day holiday of a certain year. I went to the night market and saw many vendors carrying flowers for sale. I stupidly chose a bunch of pink roses, with smiles in my eyes. I smiled slightly and put the flowers in the vase, watching them bloom in the quiet night. The room was filled with the fragrance of love – it was a kind of mutual support that went through many ups and downs side by side.
I once dreamed of building a small manor for myself, with pavilions, hidden rockeries, and gurgling water. In spring, I can invite friends to go for an outing in the sea of flowers and willows; in summer, I can play the piano and flute in the faint lotus fragrance; in autumn, I can stroll in the maple forest and sing softly in the flying red leaves; in winter, I can brew a pot of snow plum tea and smile at the jade trees and white flowers. The idea is too extravagant, and it has always been just a thought. So even though I love flowers in every way, I would rather buy a few fresh flowers and put them in a vase, and never want to carefully grow flowers. I think I have a deep affinity with flowers. But I always feel that I am a vulgar person, unworthy of being with elegant flowers for a long time, and I am afraid that my recklessness and negligence will ruin the youth of flowers.
Anita Mui’s song “Woman Flower” made many people sad and cry. Women are like flowers and flowers are like dreams. People are like flowers. In fact, isn’t life better than flowers? When I was young, I was a bold daisy that could stand proudly in the frost, because I didn’t understand the harshness of the wind and frost. Even though I felt “who can hide with me, why do flowers bloom so late?” many years later, I still boldly bloomed; youth was a delicate rose, blooming passionately, with fighting power, and overflowing with fiery romance; middle-aged should be a cluster of elegant Clivia, beautiful and reserved, so steady and dignified; in old age, I can be compared to the plum blossoms that stand proudly in the snow, with dots of deep red dotted in the white snow, beautiful and dazzling. It is precisely because youth is short, flowers bloom and fade, and there are many feelings in the passing years, which also makes people learn to cherish.
Because people have feelings, flowers also have feelings. So there is the wandering among flowers, and the sadness of the flowers falling. Bees and butterflies gather in groups among flowers, flying and dancing alone, accompanying the morning and evening mist. Marvel at the brightness of flowers when they bloom, and grieve at the dullness of flowers when they fade. I don’t intend to learn from Lin Daiyu to bury flowers with a hoe, “You bury flowers now, people laugh at you, who will bury you next year?” It’s really too foolish. Flowers bloom and fade, life cycle, it is natural, joys and sorrows, separations and reunions, gatherings and separations have their due dates, why should we be too demanding of others and ourselves? As the saying goes, “When flowers bloom, you must pick them, don’t wait until there are no flowers to pick branches.” Learn to cherish what you have, life will be fulfilled, and there will be a roundness and fullness in the emptiness.
In fact, flowers are everywhere. Scattered in every corner of the world, dotted in the streets and alleys of bustling markets, filled with strong tea fragrance, and dazzling in the fragrance of books. Flowers understand people.
I wish to be a flower that can speak. When my friends are helpless, I care for them. When my relatives miss me, I greet them. No matter where I go, no matter where in the world, the beautiful mood of flowers will always be in my life, writing the poem of life like flowers.
I love flowers and have an indissoluble bond with them.
Fate comes and goes because of flowers.
Fate comes and goes like water