The Seed of Tet

The women in my village always start sowing seeds for Tet from the end of autumn.

At that time, the sun had not yet left the sky, the clouds had not yet turned blue, but the last late showers had left the fields for the sea, leaving behind on the soil of the backyard, the front porch, the pond or the beach of each house a layer of dry soil, the silver color gradually turning white - the color of barren soil in the dry wind.

The garden changes seasons, the vegetable beds gradually lose their green color and then start to bloom. Morning glory, purple sweet potato, and Malabar spinach are also purple. Only the amaranth flowers are green, like a pen writing upside down to the sky. The summer vegetable season is over, the garden returns to the people the same barren soil as the previous season, so that the women, after a whole day of farming, can diligently dig and cultivate the soil from the beginning, preparing to sow the new crop of vegetables waiting for Tet with the bunch of seeds in a small basket on the kitchen shelf of each house. The bunch of yardlong beans still has its dry, silvery shell. The squash is black with soot, just shake it gently and you can hear the sound of the seeds rustling in the fibrous core. The gourd is still hanging on the window sill, rattling and singing in the wooden jar. Then the mustard and coriander seeds are wrapped in dry banana leaves or, more carefully, stored in a bottle after mixing with the ash. Farmer women learn how to preserve seeds from generation to generation, then carefully save, collect, and send to their kitchens the warmth and hope for the next season.

The seeds of Tet are sown on a certain day, not fixed because it depends on experience and the weather, but it must be at the end of autumn. The country women take care of their Tet seeds like children, waiting for Tet to sprout, for Tet to sprout, for Tet to grow day by day amidst the north wind, drizzle and frost. Then they cover, water, bathe, take care of the fertilizer, prune thickly, thin out, and wander around all season, rarely being able to look up to see Tet tiptoeing closer.

Tet in the poor countryside, under the poor kitchens, only revolves around the question of what to eat to warm the stomach, meat and fish are only available a couple of times a year, so the fullness is gleaned from the home garden and Tet is also carefully grown from the garden. There are cabbages, kohlrabi, lettuce, chrysanthemum greens, green mustard. There are coriander beds, dill beds. And the gardens of larger, sunnier families add rows of potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, green beans, red beans. Then in the cold wind, the Tet garden grows bigger, changes color. From chalk green to emerald green, then gradually darkens. Until the coriander beds, dill beds bloom with tiny white and yellow flowers, Tet is near, urging to bring the garden to the kitchen, starting with a jar of whole compressed kohlrabi and some split sugarcane stalks just picked from the end of the garden. That time, before the full moon day, on the 29th or 30th of Tet, the kohlrabi will be wilted just enough, the water in the tubers will have just drained, the sweetness of the sugarcane will be absorbed and crispy enough. That kohlrabi cut into small pieces, mixed with a little sugar, added with minced garlic and chili, eaten with white rice is enough to become a Tet meal for poor children.

Then from around twenty-three, the Kitchen Gods came back, Tet just came, hurriedly. After the salty taste of the jar of compressed kohlrabi is the sweetness of garden jam: tomato jam, potato jam, sweet potato jam, squash jam, apple jam or kumquat jam... The women kept turning back and forth in the small path between the garden and the kitchen to pick up Tet from the previous spring to bring back for this spring in the New Year's Eve meal with a basket of fresh vegetables the color of early morning dew, a bowl of fish sauce with the fragrant smell of chili, a plate of stir-fried potatoes with garlic and a few sprigs of dill, a bowl of tomatoes stewed with green onions and stir-fried kohlrabi with pork fat in a ceramic bowl hanging on a string... While the children waited at the gate, waiting for the man or someone in the house who had gone to slaughter pigs last night to return with a few pieces of meat skewered with string, a basket of green pig intestines, and shimmering broth, the women who sowed the seeds of Tet were still busy, hanging around with dong leaves, rice and beans, with bunches of old coriander with bunches of green fruit mixed with tiny white flower buds, preparing pots of fragrant leaf bath water for their husbands and children to wash away all the hardships and toil of the four seasons...

My country women have been like this for generations. They still personally collect, store, and cultivate the anticipation and excitement all year round to keep a poor but memorable Tet warm forever.

Oh my old hometown, oh my old Tet and the women of the old days! The seeds they sowed on the kitchen shelf in the waiting season for Tet, every time the cool breeze comes, stir and sprout in their memories, so that the child of the past still yearns and wishes to return to the old tiled house in the shade of trees with a small garden by the pond, to continue to cultivate and sow the seeds of Tet from the end of the misty seasons.