In my hometown, there are two Paulownia trees planted in the
yard. My father used to say, "Plant Paulownia trees, and you will attract
the golden phoenix." These two trees were my father's treasures and the hope
of our family.
Every spring, while other trees were blooming and flourishing, the Paulownia
trees remained quiet, waiting patiently for the apricot, peach, and pear
blossoms to fall. Only then did they burst into bloom, their large golden
trumpets and strings of purple bells filling the yard with their sweet
fragrance. Countless bees and butterflies flew among them, making the whole
yard a sea of flowers.
There was a nest on each of the two Paulownia trees, both built by magpies.
The magpies chattered all day long, sometimes annoying my mother. She would
ask us to knock the nests down, but my father always refused. He repeatedly
told us, the children, not to harm the baby magpies when playing with
slingshots. He believed that having such neighbors was our good fortune.
With the magpies perching on the branches, our yard was filled with a joyful
atmosphere, and he hoped that they would bring good luck to our family. And
they did. In just a few years, my father was promoted, and our family was
overjoyed and grateful to the magpies.
When the Paulownia flowers fell each year, it was my happiest time. The
falling petals were like a shower of blossoms, and mischievous me would pick
up the flower buds and thread them together into realistic "snakes." I would
play with them with my friends, and our laughter would make even more
flowers fall. Sometimes, I would secretly put these "snakes" in my female
classmates' pencil cases, watching them turn pale with fear and run to tell
the teacher. I would then hide my laughter as the teacher scolded me in the
office.
Two years ago, the old yard was renovated, and the old earthen house was
torn down and replaced with a new one. The two Paulownia trees had grown up,
and they had to be cut down because they were obstructing the construction.
My father was tearful, holding onto the trees like he was caressing his own
children, talking to himself endlessly. After the renovation was complete, I
asked a carpenter to make two bookcases out of the Paulownia trees and gave
them to my father as a permanent memorial. |