Strolling through Tonghua Market, a refreshing breeze suddenly wafted through the crowded streets, instantly lifting my spirits. Following the scent, I found an elderly man selling wild ginger flowers he had gathered from the mountains. Each bunch contained five flowers and cost ten dollars.
The old man said he lived on a hillside, and every day on his way to work in the fields, he would pass by the slopes overgrown with wild ginger flowers. He had never thought of the wild ginger flowers as anything special, only that they had a unique fragrance. This autumn, tired from farming, he took a nap by the village. When he woke up, he found himself surrounded by the fragrance; the fresh air smelled especially sweet. The old man thought, "Perhaps someone will like these fragrant flowers that grow in the wild." So he cut a hundred bunches of wild ginger flowers to sell on Tonghua Street, and they always sold out within an hour. The old man said, "There are so many flower lovers in Taipei; selling flowers is more profitable than farming!"
I bought ten bunches of wild ginger flowers. Thinking of this lovely old man, I also remembered that those who buy wildflowers are probably flower lovers, and perhaps deep down, they hold a sweet memory.
My first encounter with the charm of wild ginger flowers was many years ago. We were strolling along the Zuimengxi Creek in Muzha when a young girl told me, "The wild ginger flowers look just like little white butterflies perched on green trees, while the leaves are like boats, ready to set sail for distant places." Then we sat together on the bridge, letting the petals of the wild ginger flowers we picked flutter into the creek, just like butterflies fluttering; we tossed leaves into the creek, letting them drift gently on the current, just like little green boats. The girl also told me, "Men with light brown eyes are destined to wander." Then we said our quiet goodbyes and never saw each other again.
Now, time flies by like butterflies, flows by like a small boat, and I too have spent a long period of wandering, leaving only the fleeting beauty of wild ginger flowers to sadden me every autumn. Later, I lived on Muzha Mountain, and not far behind my house was an abandoned cottage. In spring, the moon peach blossoms hung like strings of crystal-white pearls everywhere, and when the autumn wind blew, the white spirits of wild ginger flowers fluttered in the wind. I often sit alone at the foot of that crumbling wall, sometimes for an entire afternoon. I feel that the mood of autumn can be described by two lines of poetry: "The music ends, the person is gone, only green remains on the river."
Memories are like flowers, and warm memories are like their fragrance, spreading even in the cold night sky.
I put the wild ginger flowers I bought in a large earthenware jar, and the small house was filled with their aroma. When I went out, the fragrance seemed to trail a long tail, following me even after I had gone far away. I realized that even something as small as buying flowers can hold many precious experiences.
Every day on my way to work, I pass by Fuxingfu Road, where there are often people selling magnolia flowers. They string four magnolia flowers together and knock on your car window as you pass by, saying, "Sir, would you like to buy a string of fragrant magnolia flowers?" This has made buying a string of magnolia flowers a daily habit. I like that feeling—someone knocks on your car window to sell you a string of flowers, and then you part ways, like walking along a country road, surrounded by the fragrance of flowers and the songs of birds.
Therefore, I am always grateful to those flower sellers. We were complete strangers before, but because of the spirit of the flowers, we can feel a connection at any time and place. Even a small bunch of flowers possesses its own unique charm.
When we wander aimlessly and encounter a flower seller, we might buy a bunch for a small amount of money. Sometimes we keep it for ourselves, sometimes we give it to a friend. No matter how we use it, it's always worth the price!
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