April blooms at their best; looking back, the trees are full of flowers

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Looking back at April,

the spring breeze gently brushes the lake of the heart, lightly stirring ripples.

Spring light seems to be in hand, brimming with fragrance.

The breeze outside the window, birdsong, light and shadow, hidden fragrance, invite me to walk into the lush blooms.

I really want to retreat into the mountains and forests and the countryside, yet I am held back by mundane affairs,

so I please myself amid the blooming and falling of flowers,

which can be considered not letting down this most beautiful April day in the human world.

The small garden in the faint light of dawn is as soft as a single leaf, and I have to soften my footsteps too, for fear of disturbing the flowers' dreams.

Coffee is a necessity in my life. First, a cup of coffee, then enjoying flowers, photographing flowers, and writing about flowers. Back in the era when glass-bottled Nescafe instant coffee was given as a gift box, I already liked the taste of coffee, though becoming addicted to coffee is a matter of these past few years. I like coffee and do not like tea, just as some people like Sichuan cuisine and some like Cantonese cuisine; it is merely a difference in taste preferences.

On this spring afternoon, the flowers do not speak, like true yoga masters, comfortably extending every joint of their bodies, from calyx and petals to every wisp of stamen, in full bloom.

Stems as tough as iron, flowers blooming like lotus. There is the legendary epic-like Josephine, the deep-sea fairy-tale-like Little Mermaid, and the flowing feast-like Little Duck and Beer...

Fantasy Purple, flowers in the mirror and moon in the water are ultimately illusions; winning, the passing years linger, intoxicated in a purple dream.

Their lives are brief and fragile; some have only a moment of beauty.

Time slows its steps when we look at a flower; perhaps in this way, it can let us grow old a little more slowly.

Japanese photographer Masao Yamamoto says: "I live, every day. I feel all the details and trivialities, and try to place them in a position of appreciation. Perhaps this is the aesthetics of my life."

Actually, I not only like clematis and hydrangea, but also like Xiaoling, small hibiscus, heuchera, star jasmine, small chrysanthemum, thousand-leaf... Together they build the completeness of the small garden's form and seasonal appearance.

Life is too precious; however you live it, it seems like waste. I do not want to spend all my energy on tending flowers with my face to the yellow earth and my back to the sky. I also want to spend more time reading, writing, painting, and talking with friends in the garden.

Therefore, those flowers that are afraid of both cold and heat, flowers that need to be moved around, and flowers that require frequent spraying and pest removal cannot attract me.

The gardening attitude I advocate is not about how rare the flowers planted are, but with what state of mind one plants flowers, and what mood one harvests in the garden.

The gardening aesthetics I appreciate are not about how abundant the flowers planted are, but the pairing of pots and vessels, and the style and color palette presented by the garden.

Some people say that the essence of art is conflict; it creates problems for life, yet never solves them.

This is the garden story belonging to the flower friend "Tangtang,"

then what about your story?

Why not hurry and submit it to Huahua,

Huahua is looking forward to it!