Yesterday, during a holiday break, I had the rare chance to take out the garbage in the morning. While waiting for the garbage truck at the community gate, a neighbor—whom I hadn’t seen in quite some time—greeted me and mentioned that there was a rare flower blooming in my yard.
My house is situated at the outermost edge of the entire community, so neighbors often glance into my yard when they take out their trash. Because I’ve been so busy with work, I rarely have time to take out the garbage myself, let alone enjoy the flowers and plants growing there.
Coincidentally, I had planned to weed the yard that afternoon. I hadn’t expected, however, that a neighbor would discover such a unique plant—Panlong Ginseng. Thanks to their explanation, I learned about it for the first time. Its official name is 绶草 (Shòu Cǎo), which is derived from its row of inflorescences that resemble silky ribbons.
According to Wikipedia, because the inflorescences coil around the flower stems like red or green dragons, and the fleshy roots resemble ginseng, the plant is often called 軶龙蔘 (È Lóng Shēn). It is a small wild orchid native to Taiwan, and perhaps the smallest orchid of all.
Despite being a wild plant, my neighbor said this species is highly prized. The seeds were likely carried by birds or the wind, finding their way into my yard by chance. Interestingly, this neighbor lives at the far end of the community—a good distance from my house—so it’s uncertain whether any other yards in between were also “blessed” with these drifting seeds.
After our conversation, I took a closer look at the two upright and elegant 軶龙蔘 in my yard. Though small, they were truly delightful to behold. It’s said they bloom only once a year, around the Qingming Festival, which is why they’re also known as “Qingming Grass.” I was lucky enough to catch them at their peak.
Later in the afternoon, just as I began weeding, I discovered two more plants growing on the inner side of the yard. Once in bloom, the pair entwined with each other. They resembled two dragons spiraling together, or even a DNA double helix. From certain angles, they looked like a pair of seahorses—a stunning and almost surreal sight.
Originally, my neighbor suggested that I dig them up and plant them in a pot. But after thinking it through, I decided to leave them where they naturally grew. These plants arrived here on their own, and this spot is the home they chose. It felt only right to let them remain on their own terms, in the soil they selected.
I had taken photos to preserve the memory, so there was no need to confine them to a pot. I also remembered watching a program that described how plant roots form an underground communication network—what scientists now call the “Wood Wide Web.” If I uprooted them, they might be cut off from this intricate, hidden world.
Who would have thought that a simple morning chore—and a chance conversation—could lead to a whole day filled with beauty, reflection, and wonder?
Source: newsancai