Blog – Page 72 – Goldfish Odyssey

Late spring, friends set a new planter out by their front door with cuttings of a few dark green stems. Their distinctive shape—a familiar image—made my heart leap to joy. Epiphyllum oxypetalum! I hadn’t seen them since moving to the States.

They are a type of cactus. In warmer climates, they can be grown outdoors. More often, they are kept as container plants. The flowers are about the size of a child’s face. Oxypetalum, the ones with white flowers, are commonly grown in South Asia and China. What makes them special is the fact that they only bloom at night. As soon as the flowers open fully, they will begin to close up. The flowers are extremely fragrant: elegant yet permeating. They are often called “queen of the night” and in Chinese “beauty under the moon” (月下美人).

Dad kept an epiphyllum near our front porch. It was about four feet tall, supported by a few bamboo sticks. Whenever tiny red buds appeared at the leave joints, the excitement of anticipation began. The buds would first extend a few inches. Then their stems would gradually thicken, lengthen and start to shape like ladles. The small cone-shape buds would swell up like stretched-out cotton candies.

We would be allowed to stay up late watching the unfolding of the blooms—a silent ceremonial dance, as if the flowers knowingly took their time, savoring the admiration from the audience and giving away their power of beauty only reluctantly. Often, we would invite friends and neighbors over for the special occasion. They would arrive shortly before the moment of full bloom. Photos would be taken. The house would be filled with joyful noises and perfuming scents, as the flowers retreated into their own world.

With good care, my friend’s new plant branched out quickly and bloomed twice within weeks, bringing memorable evenings for their young family. Chinese people use the idiom 曇花一現, literally “an appearance of epiphyllum,” to describe a fleeting moment of glory or fortune. No matter how long a beautiful thing will last, it is up to us to treasure its existence.

Growing up, October was my favorite month of the year. There were many national holidays—which meant fewer school days. The first one was Double-Ten (10/10, 雙十節), commemorating the revolutionary uprising in Wuchang (武昌), overturning the Qing Dynasty. Then, there was Taiwan Retrocession Day (臺灣光復節) on October 25, celebrating the end of Japanese colonization. At the end of the month, festive events took place on President Chiang Kai-shek’s birthday. We studied the historical significance of these holidays at school. But, to a child, the colorful street decorations, parades and fireworks were what made the month special.

Every year, toward the end of September, there would be heightened security around the Presidential Office Building as celebratory signs and observatory stage were being constructed. Elaborated traditional style arches were erected on major streets nearby. In the evening, decorative lighting made everything glow splendidly. We would always plan an evening outing to see the illuminated decorations.

On our nation’s birthday, there would always be a military parade. These parades never as robotic and threatening as the North Korean parades, and not entertaining as Macy’s Thanksgiving parades. Yet, they never failed to impress the observers. We never watched the parades in person. We did get to see tanks and armored vehicles passing our streets on their way to military bases—imposing images that would last for a lifetime.

We almost never missed a chance to see the fireworks. To gain a clear view, we would visit friends or relatives who lived in high-rise buildings. We would have a firework-watching party on the rooftop or on the balcony. Us kids not only wanted the fireworks to be higher, bigger and more colorful then the previous years, we also wanted them to last longer. We would time the program from the beginning to the end.

Taiwan has gone through series of political changes since my childhood. The “retrocession” of Taiwan has become a controversial topic. Living on the other side of the pond, I still treasure the beautiful memories of October celebrations.

And, October is still my favorite month of the year. Autumn harvest and foliage make October one of the most colorful times of the year. For gardeners, October means time for the bulbs to be planted and seeds to be sown for the next year. October sun is always golden, warm and gentle.

During my first autumn in Ohio, when the leaves started to turn red, orange and gold, I couldn’t stop collecting them, pressing them under books and putting them in letters that I sent home. Occasionally, I still find them in my books. When mom stayed with me in late 1990s, we would go to nearby farm fields for pumpkins. She was always amused by the abundance of the crop, the size and shape of the large squashes, and their golden color. We would take weekend trips through the valleys of Ohio for autumn foliage. Mom enjoyed the reflections of beautiful colors in waters the most. She never got tired of snapping photos autumn leaves. Sometimes, we would go to Amish country for apples and cider. Mom and I also made long road trips to the Great Smoky Mountains and New England Coast for foliage.

Autumn colors always arrive late in New York City. This year, with the warmer temperature, the leaves seem even more reluctant to let go of their greenness. I wait patiently for their action.