Meditations on Cosmos: Cycles of Bloom and Absence

The author begins by describing the surprising sight of cosmos flowers blooming vibrantly in July, months before their expected autumn display. Having planted the seeds with the anticipation of an autumn harvest, the early and abundant flowering of white, red, and purple blossoms in the heat of summer presents a delightful anomaly. This unexpected bloom serves as a gentle metaphor for life's surprises, where expectations can be beautifully subverted.

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The reason for the flowers blooming from mid-July is surprisingly simple. Although it has long been known as a representative autumn flower, if the sowing time is advanced and the cultivation environment is good, you can see flowers even in summer.

A poignant shift occurs as the author recounts the journey to their writing studio. The path, once punctuated by the cacophony of geese and chickens at a nearby nursery, is now eerily quiet. The animals have been removed, leaving only the rapidly growing weeds to reclaim the space. This silence, a stark contrast to the previous "discordant harmony," evokes a sense of loss and the irreversible nature of change. The author reflects on how quickly familiar sounds and presences can vanish, leaving behind a void that prompts contemplation on what is truly lost.

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The geese and chickens that used to be there are gone, and only the weeds have grown surprisingly fast. Passing by the quiet nursery, the days when I frowned while blocking my ears to the discordant harmony feel like a dream.

The narrative then expands to a recent experience on the islands of Bigeumdo and Docho in Shinan County, where the author participated in a writing program. The islands, once captivating for their expansive, sun-drenched salt fields – symbols of community and shared labor – have undergone a dramatic transformation. Vast stretches of these salt fields are now covered with solar panels, enclosed by high fences, erasing the traditional landscape and the human presence associated with it. This stark visual of industrial development replacing a centuries-old way of life underscores a profound sense of displacement and the loss of cultural heritage.

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On Bigeumdo, the Daedong Salt Field, formed by about 450 households in 1948, was a symbol of community cooperation. However, when I went this time, solar panels were lined up endlessly on the beach that used to be salt fields.

Returning to the cosmos, the author finds a deeper meaning in their early bloom. The flowers are thriving in the rich soil formed by decades of decaying plane tree leaves, which were removed due to safety concerns. This realization leads to a contemplation of reincarnation and continuity – the idea that the cosmos might be a rebirth of the fallen trees. The piece concludes with a reflection on the interconnectedness of seemingly disparate elements, like the quiet nursery and the transformed salt fields, suggesting that even in loss and change, there are hidden connections and possibilities for new stories, much like the cosmos blooming out of season.

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Did the cosmos grow so vigorously thanks to the humus soil? The place covered with a thousand cosmos flowers was originally lined with plane trees over eighty years old. When the school first opened, the trees were planted. Last winter, one suddenly broke at the base and fell. After inspecting the safety of the remaining plane trees, they were inevitably cut down due to the high risk of falling.