Top 10 Best Essays Describing the Banyan Tree

Our schoolyard is home to many different trees, but the banyan tree near our classroom is my favorite.

This banyan tree is very large, and from a distance, it looks like a giant umbrella. Its trunk is so wide that I can’t wrap my arms around it. The tree's roots are thick, rising above the ground like cobras, with some roots diving deep into the earth to absorb nutrients, keeping the tree sturdy. The trunk stands tall and straight, like a temple pillar, with a rough brown-gray bark that bears many scars. The banyan tree is unlike any other, spreading its branches into several layers that cast shade over a large area. As you look up, the leaves become lighter in color.

The leaves are oval-shaped, green, and cover the tree so thickly that no sunlight can penetrate through to the schoolyard. In autumn, the leaves change from green to red. When the wind blows gently, the red leaves fall, leaving behind bare branches that look quite pitiful. When winter passes and spring arrives, the banyan tree sprouts fresh new leaves in a bright yellowish green, full of vitality. The tree also blooms with clusters of off-white flowers.

Hidden among the leaves are round, flat, green fruits. When they ripen, they turn yellow and have a sour taste. We often gather under the banyan tree to play. Birds chirp merrily on its branches, as if playing with us. During my cleaning duties, I also water the tree to keep it healthy.

I cherish the banyan tree because it provides shade for us to play under and adds beauty to our school. How delightful it is to watch the banyan flowers fall on a peaceful summer afternoon.

Our school is nestled behind the towering trees: the tall leadwood trees, with their thick foliage swaying in the wind, and the vibrant red flowers of the flamboyant trees during the summer. But the banyan tree, with its expansive canopy casting a wide shade in the summer, stands out as a cherished friend to all of us children.

Since the first day I walked into this beloved school, the banyan tree has been there, standing proudly in front of the courtyard, weathering countless seasons of rain and wind, while I grew older and the tree aged gracefully. Its trunk, rough with bumps, is thick and sturdy. The roots stretch above the ground, gnarled and massive. I once asked my mother why the banyan tree’s roots were so large and twisted. She told me that they bore the weight of time, of sun, rain, and storms, and that they had to endure to keep the tree flourishing as it does.

The banyan tree always captivates me whenever I absentmindedly gaze out the window. Its vibrant green leaves, signaling the transition from spring to summer, are a treat for my eyes. Its canopy spreads across, creating a green umbrella of natural shade, under which we can play freely in the courtyard. The boys play marbles under the tree, while the girls play hopscotch or jump rope. Laughter fills the air as we enjoy the time together. As for me, I love watching the sunbeams sneak through the gaps in the leaves, playing their own little game with the breeze.

As winter arrives, the banyan tree sheds its leaves and stands bare. The once vibrant red leaves fall away, leaving only a few stubborn red leaves hanging on, lonely and exposed. Yet, despite the cold, we still play beneath it, knowing that the tree endures the harsh winter. Its once lush, green canopy is now bare. But when spring comes, the new buds sprout and greet the sun, blossoming into fresh leaves. The banyan tree dresses up again, donning a glorious new outfit each year.

The tiny flowers, like distant stars, bloom in yellow, creating beautiful clusters that eventually turn into fruits. The green fruits ripen to a golden yellow, peeking through the foliage. We children love the sweet-tasting fruit, especially the sticky, rich variety known as “bàng nếp.”

The banyan tree has grown with us, playing alongside us, and witnessing our journey through school. During the summer break, the empty schoolyard is left with just the banyan tree standing alone. The mischievous wind causes its leaves to rustle. The old banyan tree seems to smile and wave us goodbye, promising to see us again after the long vacation. I will miss that old banyan tree very much.

The image of the banyan tree in the schoolyard left a deep impression on me from the very first time I stepped onto the school grounds.

The banyan tree stands at the left corner of the schoolyard. The principal told us it was planted when the school was first established. It has since become a symbol of nostalgia for many generations of students who grew up here. The tree is massive, towering over the school, its branches stretching in all directions. Its trunk is so thick that I and four friends together can barely wrap our arms around it. The roots of the tree are numerous and long, pushing up from the ground like serpents winding their way through the earth.

Despite its size, the banyan tree is quite humble in appearance. It is always dressed in a rough, brown bark, crowned with a green canopy. The tree is beautiful, even in winter. When the cold season arrives, the tree swaps its green summer cap for a red one, showing off its sturdy, resilient nature. By the end of the first semester, the banyan tree had become a close friend to me and my classmates. After each tense lesson, we would gather around the tree to read books and tell stories.

On sunny days, the tree’s shade provided a cool respite, perfect for sitting and relaxing. The banyan tree is truly a great friend. As time passed, my bond with the tree grew stronger. Every summer break, while I was excited for the rest, I felt a pang of longing, eager for the school year to begin again so I could see my banyan tree. I imagined the tree might miss us too.

I love the banyan tree; it’s an irreplaceable friend to me. I will never forget the sight of it in the schoolyard.

In the center of our schoolyard stands a towering banyan tree. I don’t know when it was planted or how old it is, but I do know that it has been here, providing shade, since I first arrived at school.

From a distance, the tree looks like a massive umbrella. Its trunk is as wide as my arms can reach, with a rough, textured bark. Yet beneath this rugged exterior flows cool, nourishing sap that sustains the tree. This life-giving fluid allows the tree to grow taller and spread its branches far and wide. The larger branches stretch outward, while the smaller ones sprout in every direction, each covered in leaves.

The young leaves at the ends of the branches are delicate, fresh, and bright green. The older leaves, darker and thicker, grow to the size of an adult’s hand. When a light breeze blows, the leaves rustle softly, creating a warm, comforting sound. As autumn arrives, the leaves turn a deep red and curl at the edges, signaling their readiness to fall. I always feel a little sad seeing them go, but I understand it’s part of the natural cycle, as the old leaves make way for the new shoots that will keep the tree alive.

During the winter, the tree stands bare, its branches thin and skeletal. But hidden within those branches are new buds, waiting for the right moment to emerge. As spring comes, the tree bursts forth with new growth, its tender green leaves slowly unfolding. The banyan blooms with tiny, green flowers that cluster together, bursting into color under the spring sun. Sometimes, these tiny blossoms fall, landing at our feet or on our shoulders, as if reluctant to part with us before summer arrives.

As the flowers fade, the tree starts bearing fruit. The young, green fruits match the color of the leaves. By summer, after a long day of activities at school, we often gather under the tree’s shade, chatting and watching for birds while searching for ripe fruits. When the time comes, the ripe banyan fruits fall, their golden-yellow skin glowing, and we race to collect them. They are rich, savory, and delicious.

Oh, how I love my banyan tree! This tree has given us so many memories. It’s a friend to our school, to our classroom, and to our childhood. It makes our school more beautiful and cherished. The banyan tree feels like a kindred spirit to us. I hope it stays green and thriving forever.

There is a banyan tree in front of my house, planted by my father, and it is probably as old as I am. Over the years, the tree has become like a close friend to me. Through countless seasons of sunshine, rain, wind, and storms, the banyan tree has remained strong, standing tall and growing steadily over time. Its trunk is thick and straight, covered in rough dark brown bark. The branches stretch long, and the leaves resemble outstretched hands, with clusters of fruits hidden within.

As autumn arrives, the once lush green leaves slowly change to a deep reddish-purple. Every breeze causes the leaves to gently sway. Then, the cold winds of winter blow in, bringing a chill that bites at the skin. The winds grow stronger, sweeping away the last of the autumn leaves. The banyan tree is now bare, its branches thin and fragile in the freezing cold. Yet, even so, you can still sense the hidden vitality within the tree.

When the first spring showers arrive, the banyan tree seems to come back to life. New buds begin to sprout from the ends of the branches. Little birds hop about, playing and celebrating the arrival of spring. On warm summer afternoons, my friends and I would gather under the tree’s shade, picking up fallen leaves to make hats, little “calves,” and even tiny “crowns” for fun.

In my memories, the banyan tree and the little friends from my neighborhood are some of the most cherished parts of my childhood. I never imagined a time when the tree would be gone from my life. But one day, after school, I came home to find workers from the city’s environmental company cutting down the tree. Surprised and confused, I asked one of the workers why. He replied, “It’s nearly storm season, and we have to cut it down to prevent the storm from toppling it.” I stood frozen, watching as the workers cut off the tree’s most beautiful branches until it was just a bare stump.

Losing the banyan tree felt like losing a dear friend who had grown up with me, played with me, and witnessed so many moments in my life. But as time passed, my longing for the tree began to fade. With school and other responsibilities, I no longer had time to think about the tree. Then one spring afternoon, as I was studying by the window, I looked outside and saw the familiar spot where the banyan tree had once stood. New shoots were emerging from the old, gnarled stump. A new life was beginning to sprout!

The memories of the banyan tree will always remain in my heart. Now, I take joy in nurturing the new life that is growing from its roots. I hope that, in a short time, children will again play under its shade.

In front of my house, there stands a banyan tree. Our school also has one. Along the streets where I live, there are rows of banyan trees stretching as far as the eye can see. These trees have watched me grow up, keeping countless childhood memories. I love the banyan tree as one loves a closest, most cherished friend, always present in my life.

Each season, the banyan tree has its own special beauty, whether it’s lush and green in its youth or old and weathered. The tree, much like a human, changes from vibrant to contemplative, from joyful to somber.

My favorite time to admire the banyan tree is in spring. It is a time of rebirth for all living things. In the misty rain and the cool breeze, new buds slowly unfurl on its thin, delicate branches. The fresh green of the leaves brightens the entire street, lifting it from the dullness of winter. At times, I imagine the tree glowing with green candles. Other times, it seems like a graceful dancer holding lanterns. The banyan tree transforms into many enchanting forms. Its new shoots grow rapidly, and when the tiny flowers begin to show through the leaves, it signals the arrival of summer’s brilliance.

As summer comes, the banyan tree takes on a new vitality. The entire neighborhood is bathed in its lush shade. I run and play with my friends beneath its branches. The tree sways, whispering gently like a kind, older friend offering shelter from the hot sun. Every summer afternoon, I open my window, sleep to the sound of the cicadas, and enjoy the sweet scent of the banyan leaves and the green fruit swaying in the sun.

The children in my neighborhood eagerly await autumn’s arrival because that’s when the banyan fruits ripen, releasing a strong, sweet fragrance that fills the streets. I remember one afternoon, during a school labor day, my classmates and I gathered under the biggest banyan tree in the school yard, picking and eating the ripe fruit. As our teacher picked a cluster, we all scrambled to grab one. I bit into the sweet, soft fruit, savoring its unique taste, tinged with the warmth of autumn sunlight, and I fell even more in love with the tree that had been part of my childhood. The banyan tree, though rough and gray, holds countless memories in its bark. One day, when I leave school, I will come back to place my hand on the tree’s weathered trunk and relive those beautiful childhood memories.

The most heart-wrenching sight is when the banyan tree faces winter. The row of trees along the street shivers as cold winds blow through them. In the winter sun, the leaves turn a sad reddish hue. The elderly woman selling sticky rice at the street corner wraps the rice in a red leaf and eats it as she walks. It makes me realize that, whether in its prime or in decline, the banyan tree always has something valuable to offer. Beneath the lonely, bare tree along the street, more small shops pop up, and the children in my neighborhood stop playing there. The schoolyard, too, seems emptier, with no one wanting to go outside because of the cold. During these times, the banyan tree seems so pitiful.

Its thin, dry branches seem to sway as if calling to us, “Come play with me, I am lonely!” But I know the banyan will weather the winter with ease. Despite the cold, its branches stretch daily, gathering the weak winter sunlight, preparing for the coming of spring when it will once again burst forth with fresh, green shoots. The banyan tree will be reborn, beginning a new, more beautiful and vibrant chapter of life. I am always in awe of the banyan tree’s indomitable spirit.

I love the banyan tree as one loves a quiet, humble, and dependable friend. This friend is always by my side, part of my everyday life. One day, when I no longer get to eat the sweet banyan fruit, or hold a sticky rice bundle wrapped in a red leaf from the winter, or listen to the cicadas buzzing in the trees, life will feel so empty. The banyan tree is home, it is the street, it is the school, it is memories, it is everything I hold dear and cherish.

Among all the trees in Vietnam, each one carries its own beauty and significance, but for me, the maple tree has always been the most cherished. It is a dear companion in my life, standing as a living memory of the joys and sorrows of my childhood.

Since I was a child, I have seen the maple tree standing tall at the edge of the village, near the small market. From a distance, it resembled a gigantic umbrella, its trunk thick and rough, dotted with lumps and scars. My grandmother used to call these the "eyes of the tree." Its roots dug deep into the earth, standing firm against the stormy weather. While other children eagerly awaited the blooming of the red flowers of the phoenix tree, I enjoyed watching the gradual transformation of the maple tree’s tender buds into leaves—this to me was the true herald of summer.

In summer, the maple tree wore a green coat, its leaves creating a cool canopy that shielded us from the sweltering afternoon sun. Underneath its vast branches, a world of childhood tales unfolded. We would fashion the leaves into tiny bulls, locking them together for mock battles, while our voices rang with excitement. On nights when the electricity went out, we would gather around the tree to play "dragon and snake" under the full moon, laughing in the soft moonlight… The gnarled trunk and sprawling roots of the maple tree seemed to pour all its energy into the leaves, branches, and small white flowers that would eventually turn into fruit.

The maple tree basked in the sun while keeping its roots cool throughout the year. The dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, creating a mystical glow on the ground below. In the green canopy, sparrows and finches found shelter. The cheerful chirping of these little birds brought a sense of joy, filling the air with music. As summer passed and autumn arrived, the leaves gradually shifted from green to yellow, accompanied by a light mist and the crisp sunlight of fall. Soon, the first cool breezes blew in, and scattered around the base of the tree were the first fallen fruits of the season.

The children in my neighborhood, after school, would rush to the maple tree to gather its ripe fruits. For us, the ripe maple fruit was a sweet and sour treat. Its flavor was both tangy and slightly bitter, yet irresistibly delicious. The scent of the golden skin of the fruit, once cracked open, revealed the creamy, nutty interior that was unlike anything else. Could it be that the roots of the maple had worked tirelessly to gather the rich nutrients from the soil, so that we could enjoy such a delightful gift?

As the leaves turned from yellow to deep red, it felt as though the maple tree was sending out its final messages before the winter. The wind would blow strong, sending the leaves drifting down, one by one, as if bidding farewell to the world. The cold of winter had arrived. The tree, now bare and thin, stood against the biting cold, its branches stripped of their leaves. On many chilly days, when the drizzle and gusty winds would pass, I would feel a deep sympathy for the maple tree, and silently wonder, "Oh, maple tree, it must be so cold for you." The dry leaves would rustle on the ground as if responding, "Thank you, I’m alright."

With winter passing, spring would soon follow. And with it, the maple tree would once again awaken from its slumber. It would don its new coat of fresh green, and gradually, the little buds would grow into tender leaves, signaling the arrival of another joyful season. The tree would sway in the breeze, calling the birds back to its branches, where they would sing their cheerful songs. As children, we would once again gather under its shade, looking up at the ever-changing tree, eagerly awaiting the new season of adventures.

The maple tree, always there, an inseparable part of my childhood, my school years. As time passed, it stood at the edge of our small village, its wide canopy providing shelter to generations of people. And even though life may take us far from home, every time I hold a ripe maple fruit in my hands, I feel like I hear a voice carried on the wind, saying, "Life is beautiful!" Is it the voice of the earth, the sky, or the beloved maple tree itself?

Anyone who has been to school surely cannot forget their alma mater. The branches of the trees in the school yard remain forever in the memory of those who once attended. The desks, the blackboard, the classrooms… these are all familiar sights to anyone who has ever sat in a school. And the towering banyan tree, spreading its leaves in the corner, is just as unforgettable.

The banyan tree is commonly planted in schoolyards, as its characteristics make it well-suited to the environment. It grows quickly and thrives in these spaces. I remember when I started school, the banyan tree was already tall, towering over the roof of our school. The trunk was rough and twisted, unlike the straight trunk of the eucalyptus tree. The trunk was thick enough to wrap several people’s arms around it. The banyan tree has few branches near the ground, but as it rises, the branches begin to stretch out like arms reaching toward the sunlight. In the sweltering heat of summer, its broad canopy provides a perfect shade for us to rest under.

The banyan tree's leaves spread wide like a traditional hand fan. The leaves grow in clusters, layering one over the other, blocking any sunlight from reaching the ground. The leaves remain lush and green in the hot summer sun, unaffected by the scorching heat. Summer is when the banyan leaves grow the fastest and brightest. During the winter, the tree sheds its leaves, leaving only the bare branches standing stark against the cold. But as soon as spring arrives, new buds burst out, their fiery red color signaling the return of life. The young leaves, still tight in their buds, are sharp and vibrant in red, full of energy. It seems like a single spring rain is enough to make them burst out and begin to grow, as if the sap is rushing back into them.

Thus begins another cycle of life, with spring giving way to summer and then autumn. In autumn, the banyan tree blooms and bears fruit. Its flowers grow in tiny, delicate clusters, resembling mango blossoms. They emerge from the buds and the tree’s tips, and as the leaves spread out, they’re joined by the yellow flowers, making the banyan tree even more vibrant. The flowers fall easily; even a gentle breeze is enough to make them drop, covering the ground with a golden carpet.

After the flowers, the fruit appears. The banyan fruit is oval-shaped. At first, the fruit is hard, and you can feel its firmness when you see the green ones. After a while, as they grow larger, we would pick them and crack them open to eat the seeds inside. Honestly, anyone who has experienced this will crave that taste again. Or, we would throw them at each other, using them as makeshift weapons. When the fruit was still green, it was hard and painful to hit with, leaving a sore spot on the forehead. Many times, I’d end up with a bump and get scolded by my mom, but the next day, we’d continue the playful fights.

As the fruit ripens, it turns golden. When fully ripe, the fruit has a sweet, fragrant taste. We mischievously pick the ripe fruit to eat. The leaves of the banyan tree serve as fans when it’s hot, the fruit becomes a toy, and the trunk becomes part of our childhood games of hide-and-seek. The banyan tree has become a symbol of the joyful, carefree days of my youth, linked forever to the memories of my school years.

The banyan tree, a common tree in schoolyards, not only beautifies the campus but also serves as a playground, a source of shade, and a treat for us when we return to school. The playful moments under the tree with friends, the times we’d hit each other with its fruit, or enjoy the sweet taste of its golden fruit—these will forever remain cherished memories in my heart.

My childhood is closely tied to the old banyan tree. I remember seeking refuge under its vast canopy from the sun and rain, enjoying the bittersweet taste of the ripe banyan fruits, and savoring the nutty flavor of their seeds. Ten years ago, I added embellishments to an essay about the banyan tree. I wrote that the tree was a place where my friends and I often played, its wide branches shading a corner of the schoolyard. We would sit beneath it, studying during the hot summer afternoons. In truth, it was just the tree and me, alone together during quiet evenings at school, waiting for my mother’s meeting to end. Over the years, I’ve admired many banyan trees.

The banyan tree near my house was the one I watched grow from a small sapling to a large tree with multiple layers of leaves. There’s also a banyan tree near my university, just outside my classroom window. Sometimes, I find myself gazing absent-mindedly through the window, watching autumn sunlight filter through its leaves. But the one I remember most is the banyan at my elementary school. It was a small, slender tree at the back of the schoolyard. It’s been years since I last wrote a descriptive essay, and even longer since I visited that old school. My fondest memory is of the second month of the lunar year, when the chill winds blew and the new banyan buds would rustle, calling one another to grow and fill the branches in time for summer.

The banyan tree leaves, like those of other trees in the ash family, clearly reflect the changing seasons for those who observe their growth, decay, and the color shift of the leaves. Perhaps that’s why for generations, children have cherished the lines from a song: “In winter, the leaves are red; in summer, they are green,” as a welcome to the arrival of summer. (I later learned this was the opening of a children’s song by composer Hoàng Vân, written in the 60s and 70s.)

One poet, while gazing at the winter landscape and the red leaves of the banyan tree, wrote an emotional poem: “The cold winds still blow/ The misty rain falls/ The banyan leaves bend and burn/ Red as if to say goodbye to the sky/ I don’t know how to love you more/ When winter draws near…” But by the time I was 23, that old banyan tree was no longer there. It had been felled to make way for development. When I returned after my military service, standing on the spot where the banyan once stood, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of loss. In that moment, I felt an emptiness, a longing for the tree’s presence in my life.

Now, every time I see the red banyan leaves, after completing their season, falling to the ground during the changing of seasons, I am filled with nostalgia for that ancient tree. It remains an irreplaceable part of my childhood memories.

The warm, cheerful sunlight of spring touches everything around. The banyan tree in my schoolyard is no exception, basking in the spring sun, delighted to catch the morning dew resting on its leaves.

The banyan tree is now quite old! Its roots have risen above the soil, twisting like gentle snakes. The trunk is massive, so large that a few of us can barely wrap our arms around it. Occasionally, I notice large, lumpy bumps on the tree, and its bark, weathered and cracked, has turned mossy in places, yet within it flows a lifeblood full of vitality. Spring brings a new coat to the tree, with fresh buds appearing on its branches, like tiny green flames attracting birds and butterflies.

As spring fades and summer arrives, cicadas gather in swarms, buzzing excitedly about the upcoming exams. The banyan tree spreads its wide canopy like a giant umbrella, offering shade to us mischievous schoolchildren. Among its branches hang clusters of golden fruits, sweet and inviting, swaying just out of reach of eager young eyes. After the first summer rain, the tree seems even more vibrant. And it’s truly surprising and heartwarming when my father, once coming to pick me up, reminisced about how he used to play intense marbles games beneath that very tree. He would hide his prized marbles in the hollows of the tree’s bark. When autumn arrived, the banyan stood still, dignified, like a soldier on guard. Now, the leaves have turned a deep red, as if painting a masterpiece. As winter arrives, the last leaves bid farewell to their mother branch, making way for a new cycle of rebirth.

Oh! The banyan tree - a loyal sentry - a treasure trove of childhood memories - an image forever etched in my heart.