A Spring Journey Through Namsan
On a beautiful spring day, I found myself reading the verses of flowers at Namsan in Ulsan's Nam-gu district.
The harshness of winter had retreated, replaced by the gentle warmth of the sun.
Drawn by this warmth, I stepped onto the Solmaru Trail that connects Namsan to Samho Mountain.
The slopes along the path were adorned with vivid spring flowers, enticing me to immerse myself in their beauty.
The azaleas stretched out like a flowing narrative, filling the empty spaces winter left behind.
As a reader of this floral prose, I began to walk slowly along the path.
Starting from Sinjeong Market and heading to Jijiangjeongsa, a traditional temple, I embarked on my ascent.
Fresh green leaves greeted me, swaying gently in the breeze. Though still incomplete, their trembling held a deeper vitality.
The azaleas painted the mountainside with their vibrant hues. I paused to savor the splendid scenery that words could hardly capture.
At the peak of Namsan, I reached Eunwolbong, the highest point at 119.8 meters. Behind the summit stone, a poem by the late Goryeo poet Lee Gok lingered in the air.
Namsan, named for its location south of a tribal state, and Eunwolbong, which means 'moon on the peak,' offered a serene view reminiscent of a tranquil ink wash painting.
Yellow, red, and white flowers harmoniously coexisted, each contributing its light to the landscape. In that moment, I began to read the depth of nature's narrative.
The descent from Eunwolbong was filled with vibrant sights. The yellow flowers of the ginger tree illuminated the path as the azaleas and cherry blossoms swayed, whispering nature's language to my heart.
Walking along the path of Binaejeong, I followed the trail of legends where tigers once roamed, now filled with the spirit of spring.
Standing at Biraejeong, a 70-meter cliff similar to Buyeo's Nakhuam, I felt its sacred aura. This pavilion commemorates the rock that was lost in a great flood long ago.
Below, the shimmering waters of the Taehwa River sparkled, and the cormorants dived gracefully in search of food, creating a serene landscape like a traditional painting.
As I climbed to the Taehwa River Observatory, the river flowed silently toward the East Sea, revealing the expansive Taehwa River National Garden.
Water, forest, and city blended harmoniously, creating a scene that transcended mere photographs, deeply resonating within my heart.
Walking the winding paths, each flower sang its own story. The flowers swayed in the wind, accompanied by the songs of birds. Even in unseen corners, small flowers bloomed, teaching me the silent ways of nature.
Suddenly, memories of my childhood surfaced—the days when my lips turned red from eating azaleas. I was already accustomed to nature back then.
Flowers bring joy to some, while for others, they evoke sorrow. This is the story of a mother who lost her child to disease.
After passing ten small peaks, I made my way to the Goraedeung Observatory. The blooming forsythias caught my eye, their brightness revealing themselves in any situation.
Recently, I struggled up the newly built wooden stairs at Samho Park. From the Goraedeung Observatory, the view of Ulsan's mountains was rich and abundant.
In this moment, I felt gratitude for simply being here. The flowers seemed to silently urge me to pause, to let go of life's burdens.
As the forest thickens, the playgrounds of the children's forest experience center await the joyful sounds of children. The seasons were quietly preparing for someone.
Upon reaching Sinjeong Middle School, the forsythias stretched out like a golden wave, a festival of simple and extravagant flowers intertwined.
As I walked through this bloom, the rough knots in my heart gradually untied, allowing me to set aside my busyness and worries.
Upon reaching Solmarujeong, I gazed at the floral landscape. The gentle light of spring lingered over the traditional hanok.
Standing before the pavilion, I suddenly yearned to blossom as part of this spring. The view of Samho-dong, bathed in sunlight, stirred many emotions within me.
Even while swaying in the wind, I desired to live a life that is sufficient in its existence. The pavilion and observatory served as pauses along the path, allowing my heart to settle each time.
The trail continued toward Samho Mountain. The park cemetery I encountered evoked different feelings.
In the presence of those who visit, my steps became solemn. Time flows slower where life and death lie side by side.
Here, the cornelian cherries, cherry blossoms, and azaleas create a floral tapestry, resembling a grand dance floor where spring unfolds a celebration of life.
I walked the path from Eunwolbong to Samho Mountain. The pavilions and observatories along the way served as pauses, each offering a different view, calming my heart.
This path, following the pine ridge, is the Solmaru Trail, a passage crafted by both people and nature.
Finally, I reached the summit of Samho Mountain at an elevation of 115.7 meters. The flowers swayed in the wind, and the cries of crows echoed from the trees. Everything sang of spring.
The yellow of the forsythias filled the path.
Passing Solmarujeong, I entered the skyward path. The vast mountainside housed the Ulsan Park Cemetery, where the departed rest in peace.
Families visiting for ancestral rites bowed quietly. Life and death intersected on this path, and my steps became naturally solemn.
Everywhere I looked, the cornelian cherries and cherry blossoms intertwined. Memories of childhood merged with the present, leading to a state of bliss.
Flowers do not linger long; they are fleeting. They do not seek to occupy space but quietly fulfill their brilliance in their place.
Nature seems to convey that beauty is not about possession but about briefly residing in our hearts.
Before this spring passes, I encourage you to take a walk.
Source :https://blog.naver.com/ulsan_nuri/224239222043
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