Thùy Linh

On an October evening, riding through familiar streets, one often recognises autumn from the scent carried on the breeze before even spotting the trees. The hoa sữa (milkwood flower) returns just as it always does – heady, lingering and heralding the first crisp days of the season.

To Hanoians, hoa sữa (the blossom of the milkwood, or blackboard, tree) is far more than just botanic greenery. It is woven into the city’s collective memory, passed down through generations and immortalised in poetry and song.

In the poignant verses of Em Ơi, Hà Nội Phố, poet Phan Vũ evokes the scent of milkwood flowers alongside ylang-ylang as an indispensable part of the capital’s soul: "My dear, Hà Nội's streets/ We still have the scent of ylang-ylang/ We still have the scent of milkwood flowers."

Renowned songwriter Trịnh Công Sơn, in Nhớ Mùa Thu Hà Nội (Remember Hà Nội's Autumn), likewise wove the blossoms into melodies synonymous with the capital's autumn: "Hà Nội in autumn, autumn in Hà Nội/ The season of milkwood flowers returning, perfuming every gust of wind."

From the written page to musical notes, the blossom has become a cultural symbol. A single whiff is often enough to conjure up memories of an old street corner, a bygone chapter of youth or a companion who once walked beside us on a distant autumn night.

Yet beyond the romance of literature and song, the overpowering fragrance of milkwood flowers is not always greeted with the same affection. While some eagerly await the blooming season like an annual rendezvous, others hurry through streets saturated with the suffocating aroma.

Historically, the tree has been part of Hà Nội’s urban landscape since the French colonial period, introduced alongside Western-style streets, parks and tree-lined avenues. Over more than a century, it gradually became embedded in the everyday lives and memories of the city's residents.

Between 1990 and 2010, however, mass planting became a trend along newly developed thoroughfares such as Nguyễn Chí Thanh, Trần Duy Hưng, Lê Đức Thọ and Hồ Tùng Mậu.

Published records indicate that Hà Nội currently has around 14,400 milkwood trees on its streets and in urban areas. More tellingly, urban green space per capita in the inner districts stands at just 2–3 square metres, far below the international benchmark of 9–12 square metres.

These figures reveal an issue that goes well beyond personal preferences for a particular floral scent. When a single species is planted in dense clusters, its natural characteristics can quickly turn from a pleasant feature of the urban landscape into an environmental burden during peak bloom.

The tree is hardly to blame. What demands scrutiny is how we select, space and manage urban greenery within an increasingly crowded metropolis.

One commuter who frequently crosses Nguyễn Du Street said: “The milk flower gives Hà Nội its distinctive character, and its autumn fragrance is unmistakable. But when planted too densely, blooming all at once, the scent turns suffocating. Some may love it, but others simply cannot bear it.”

Writer Nguyễn Ngọc Tiến once noted that the milkwood flower is "suffering an unfair verdict", arguing that the crux of the issue lies in urban planning rather than the fragrance itself. His observation offers a compelling perspective: at times, what people protest is not the cultural symbol itself, but thoughtless way that symbol has been imposed on everyday life

In response to public feedback, municipal authorities have ordered a review to thin out areas where the trees are too densely planted and replace some of them with other species. As an immediate measure, crews have trimmed flower clusters on almost 1,000 trees across 13 streets. The instructions are clear: no indiscriminate cutting of tree crowns, no excessive pruning and no unauthorised chemical inhibitors.

“To know whether autumn has arrived, you only need to see and smell the milkwood flowers," said Hạnh Thu, a resident of Cửa Nam Ward. "I admit the scent can be cloying at times, but it is tied to so many memories that it is the defining soul of Hà Nội's autumn. Moving these trees away would truly be heartbreaking.”

Naturally, making adjustments should never mean turning our backs on the past. Centuries-old trees along historic streets, those that have entered literature and anchored the memories of generations, retain their timeless value.

Yet deeply felt memories, no matter how profound, are also deeply personal. The nostalgic affection of one group cannot automatically serve as justification for an entire population to endure daily discomfort.

Urban identity is not a static photograph. Viewed in this light, the story of the milkwood flower belongs to a much broader vision: cultivating a diverse green canopy that strikes a balance between shade, aesthetics, ecological health and the practical needs of residents.

A liveable city requires more than symbols to remember; it requires functional spaces where people can live together comfortably. Selective preservation is, therefore, a matter of balancing cultural heritage, municipal responsibility and every citizen's right to a pleasant living environment.

October will pass, and the milkwood blossoms will fade with the chilly winds, making way for future autumns yet to come. What needs preserving is perhaps not every single tree on every single corner, but the ability of that scent to evoke Hà Nội without becoming a burden to those who call this city home.

Memories, after all, only have true meaning when they coexist with the present, not when they force life to stand still. — VNS