Rapeseed flowers and birds

 　　Here a patch, there a patch, patch after patch of golden rapeseed flowers divide the village into springtime landscapes, creating a vast sea of ​​flowers. Together with the gradually greening trees, or plants still on their way to green or other colors, they seem to be competing. These plants are holding a sports meet. The rapeseed flowers are the square formation.

　　I watch this sports meet every year. Like ice, as it moves, it merges with water; the warmest place is its lowest point, and spring is also its lowest point. Like some deciduous trees, in this season, they first show hints of green or brown, the green gradually increasing, then red flowers appear, changing their withered state. Like the crowd of visitors, even my clothes have to change.

　　Rapeseed flowers are a regular part of my family's grain crop. They are the earliest blooming grain flower. They are the harbinger of spring among grain crops. My uncles and aunts, the elders and folks of the village, are the ones who cultivate this landscape. This year, my parents are missing from this group; they have passed away. Now, only their son can see the beauty of the rapeseed flowers. Before, we often came together…

　　The rapeseed flowers are blooming. I'm here alone. A bird would appear every now and then, followed by a butterfly. These flitting figures, together with the rapeseed flowers, formed a three-dimensional landscape. I wanted to linger a little longer, thinking of visiting on behalf of my parents. So, after looking here for a while, I also wanted to visit my parents' graves, a routine I've maintained since the spring of 2004.

　　My dog ​​startled a sparrow, which flew to my mother's grave and stumbled over a withered blade of grass. The sparrow also stirred slightly at the Qingming Festival hanging I had just put up for my parents. However, I knew that these birds and the crops were always with my parents. The rapeseed flowers would be with my parents for several seasons, but this season was special.

　　Even the doves I knew best had come; perhaps they were watching me, and I felt a unique emotion watching them. I knew it was the rapeseed flowers that attracted so many birds. Just like with my parents' graves there, I had to come to this place. Although this rapeseed field was no longer planted and maintained by my parents, it was still tended by my relatives.

　　A gust of wind came, and the rapeseed flowers seemed to bow in unison. Overwhelmed with emotion, I knelt down, kowtowing, as if returning the greeting to the rapeseed flowers and the birds. In this place, my parents are; some of the existing scenery gains an additional dimension, like blood ties. The place of longing and the present are both present, just as if I were looking closely through binoculars at my parents, right here among the rapeseed flowers, right before the eyes of these birds…

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