As November arrives, many regions across China enter the best season to admire ginkgo trees.
Last weekend, I made a special trip to Qingshan Temple in Wuxi to enjoy the ginkgo.
Qingshan Temple, with a history of over 1,400 years, was first built during the Liang Dynasty (535–545 AD). Known as one of the “480 Temples of the Southern Dynasties,” it stands on a small hill at the southern foot of Mount Huishan’s second peak.
Surrounded by pine and bamboo, the mountain stays green all year round, hence the name “Qingshan” (Green Mountain).
With Canshan in front, Huishan peaks on the east and north, and Zhangshan to the west, it is said:
“Mountains embrace the temple, and the temple anchors the mountains.”
In the rear courtyard of the Mahavira Hall stand three ancient trees: a camphor tree over 120 years old, a zelkova over 120 years old, and a ginkgo tree more than 300 years old.
This ginkgo, weathering centuries of wind and rain, still stands tall and lush.
I love sitting on the wooden bench in the back corridor, watching the three trees. Their branches overlap, leaves interlace, light dances through the canopy, and the breeze makes the leaves tremble gently—a moment of quiet that feels timeless.
This time, I came a bit too early; the ginkgo leaves were still green. Looking back at photos from previous years, I found that it usually turns brilliant gold between late November and early December, creating breathtaking layers of color.
In front of the temple library grow another pair of ginkgo trees, one female and one male. The female on the right is laden with clusters of ginkgo nuts, while the male on the left stands tall and proud.
Male leaves are usually larger with a distinct split in the middle, while female leaves are smaller with little or no split.
Apart from fruiting, their leaves show these subtle differences.
The ginkgo first appeared around 345 million years ago in the Carboniferous Period, once thriving across most regions except the equator.
About two million years ago, during the Quaternary glaciations, ginkgo disappeared from Europe, North America, and most of Asia. Only in China did it survive, becoming the sole living species of its division and earning the title “the world’s oldest living fossil.”
The German poet Goethe adored the ginkgo tree. He planted one in his garden in Jena and several in Weimar. On September 15, 1815, he wrote his famous poem Ginkgo biloba, enclosing two golden ginkgo leaves for his beloved:
This tree, whose leaves are twain,
From the East to my garden came;
It whispers a secret, deep and true,
For the wise to ponder, a sign for you.
Is it one living being that split in two?
Or two that unite as one, in view?
Perhaps I’ve found the answer here,
In my verse, do you not hear:
I am myself, yet one with you.
The ginkgo holds not only scientific value but also profound aesthetic charm.
It witnesses Earth’s ancient past, and with its graceful form and golden autumn leaves, it embodies resilience, beauty, and the poetry of life.