Hear the Symphony of Blooming Flowers
(PREFACE)
By Leonardo
"Let's go see the flowers at the park. The weather is perfect for it," Derek and Alex suggested. They've been encouraging me to get some fresh air lately. Yeah, after a winter spent indoors typing at the computer, it's time to change. Spring has arrived, bringing sunny skies, clear winds, and comfortable temperatures. It should be invigorating to take a moment to step outside and breathe in the fresh air.
We embark on a brief journey to the massive park in our community. It's a convenient, ten-minute drive from our home and boasts multiple entrances from the surrounding roads. With no walls to contain it, the park seems to go on forever. On holidays, it becomes a hub of activity as families and groups gather to have a good time.
The park is home to a bustling lake, where boats glide and high school and college students compete in rowing races. Nestled in its gazebos, people chat and dine while young brides in wedding dresses, accompanied by their grooms and photographers, await their special moment. The park's forests offer a serene escape for solo hikers or groups seeking a leisurely walk or walking race. Its flower beds, abloom with an array of colorful blooms, serve as a peaceful backdrop for children playing on the playground or grass with their families. A lively atmosphere pervades the park.
I relish the opportunity to visit the park on days other than holidays when it transforms into a tranquil paradise. As I glide down its smooth roads in my car, I am enveloped by the soothing sight of perfectly manicured grass stretching out on either side like a plush green carpet. Vibrant flower beds and rows of colorful maple trees add to the visual splendor that seems to quickly and neatly retreat into the distance, creating a picturesque landscape that unfolds before me like a living painting. While the car swiftly reaches the parking lot, I savor the brief journey and the endless enjoyment of the surrounding scenery.
Upon exiting the car, I am greeted by the expansive lake, whose surface is a tranquil mirror reflecting the blue sky, fluffy clouds, verdant mountains, and lush trees. The sun's gentle rays dance across the water, creating a dazzling display. The only noise here is the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore.
We have a habit of taking a leisurely stroll down the path through the trees as a warm-up. Along the way, we encounter numerous landmarks. One such feature is a black marble wall bearing the names of hundreds of individuals, a solemn tribute to the victims of the 911 tragedy who called this city home. Although it has been 20 years, the writing on the monument remains as legible as ever. As we continue on our journey, we often come across scenic spots adorned with delicate benches facing the lake. Engraved metal plaques on the backs of the benches reveal that they were donated by children in honor of their parents, who were known to relish taking in the lake's beauty from these very spots. I can't help but pause at these benches, reading the poignant words that speak to the ups and downs of life, and lingering for a while on their shiny, well-maintained seats. The benches may have been exposed to the elements for many years, but they appear as new, inviting contemplation on the fleeting nature of time and the value of being together in the present moment.
Amidst the lush greenery of the woods, one can come across numerous branching paths, some of which are narrow trails, barely the width of a single footprint. Mostly left in their natural state, these paths were created by the feet of the brave souls seeking to uncover the secrets hidden within the trees. The winding roads are rough and uneven, with puddles filling the dips and dips scattered with branches. The lack of signposts at the forks only adds to the air of mystery, leaving one to wonder where the path may lead. Personally, I must admit that the allure of such narrow, unmarked trails does not hold much appeal for me.
Walking a loop down the path takes about an hour. By the end of our journey, I will find myself feeling a little sweaty, with increased blood flow to my pores and increased oxygen in my breath. I must have burned at least 300 calories as well. The gentle spring breeze will likely leave me feeling rejuvenated and in high spirits. From there, we may choose to head to the flower beds in the central park area to admire the blooms.
This is a land of blooms, where the rolling hills are dotted with cherry blossoms, azaleas, peonies, tulips, irises, lotus, yarrow, seven-petaled lilies, irises, and marigolds, as well as an array of wildflowers with their names unknown. Here, the people plant their flowers with care, choosing colors and varieties that complement each other and form stunning patterns when in bloom. In the sunshine, the flowers appear to be bashfully responding to the gentle spring breeze, with petals unfurling in a graceful dance. Dewdrops roll on the petals, sparkling and shining like diamonds, as bees and butterflies flutter freely through the flowery bushes, spreading the fragrance far and wide, and filling the air with their sweet aroma.
Teachers are often compared to gardeners, tending to their students like flowers in a garden. They water, weed, prune, and nurture their students day after day, getting to know them intimately and especially enjoying the sound of their blooming. As one group of students fades, other blooms and the gardener continues to cultivate new generations of students, passing on their own beautiful ideals and tireless pursuit of excellence year after year.
The gentle whisper of flowers blooming is often drowned out by the cacophony of daily life, only audible in the stillness of a serene place when one takes the time to listen with a pure and uncluttered heart. It is in these moments of quiet contemplation that a gardener finds solace and joy, tending to their precious blooms with diligent care and devotion. For the gardener, the special sound of blooming brings excitement and happiness, and the delicate melodies of flowers unfurling are the most precious sound in the world.
As I stand amidst the blooming tulips, I gently caress their delicate petals. The flowers seem to transmit a sacred, eternal greeting, filling me with a sense of blessing and contentment. Tears well up in my eyes, as decades of life's ups and downs fade away, leaving only a deep sense of longing and a bright future ahead.
"Tomorrow, we can post these writings to the special column on our website," Derek, the Doctor of Mathematics Education, and Alex, the Master of Computer Science, said, sensing my contemplation as I gazed at the flowers. As experts in their respective fields, these two have been collaborating on research in the realm of gifted education. In fact, they've been in the midst of writing a paper on the subject, and have been discussing it with me as well. Taking advantage of this chance, I enlisted Derek and Alex's help in curating my collection of writings on gifted education from the past three decades and preparing them for a special "Inheritance" section on the website of the school they co-started. Both Derek and Alex are young and brimming with excitement for their careers in education, with a wealth of fresh ideas, cutting-edge theories, and a passion for teaching. They've brought a host of new insights and information to my attention, and are poised for a limitless future in the field.
With the publication of these texts, I hope to offer a summation of insights that will inspire young educators, students, and parents as they seek guidance. Both Derek and Alex share this goal and hope to gain a deeper understanding of the field of education through these writings. For me, this marks not an end, but a new beginning. I will continue to work hard, capturing the voices of blooming flowers and sharing them with all. Through my ongoing efforts to search for, listen to, and share the voices of blooming flowers, I hope to realize a beautiful dream of my own.
The park is eerily calm, but I can always hear the gentle, sweet whispers of the blooming flowers, which are familiar voices of blooms and gardeners in conversation. It feels as though I have stepped into a sea of flowers, completely enveloped in their world. Each time I enter this state, I am filled with excitement and can't help but linger.
