Did We Miss Cherry Blossom Season?

We were on our way from Tokyo's Narita Airport to the hotel, full of anticipation for the two weeks of Japanese culture that lay ahead of us, imagining a magical expectation of experiences, from city to village and wave lapped shoreline to majestic snow-clad mountains. But our highest hopes had been dampened and we were feeling down ..... Cherry Blossom Black.

Our springtime trip was timed to optimise our chances of encountering the full bloom of the "sakura", but every tree we passed through the Tokyo bustle only appeared to have a few remaining flowers, lingering around in silent suggestion that the party was over.  It appeared that the news, received some weeks in advance of our departure from Brisbane, that the cherry blossom season had been early this year, might indeed be true.

Our mood wasn't entirely pessimised by the obvious lack of bloom.  After all, here we were in the land of the co-existing temple and shrine, with so many sights and experiences still waiting to compete for pride of place in our recollections, from Bullet Train to Skytree tower, from the shy symmetrically conical Fuji-san to the bold timber frames and trusses of the ancient merchant houses and sake breweries. This is a country whose history is steeped in centuries of Shoguns and Samurai, with their impressive castles and stone moat walls, tempered by mild mannered and modest Maiko-san and Geiko-san 'entertainers', who we would be fortunate enough to encounter, as a mere passing glimpse, while walking the late evening streets of Kyoto. 

We would taste colourful dishes of tempura, sukiyaki and shabu shabu, all the more tantalising to our hungry taste buds as a result of their preparation, there at our tables, and mere centimetres from our sensory organs. 

Then, later, when tens of temples and tower keeps had taken their toll of our cultural enlightenment, we would be awoken into more subtle fascination by the age old tea ceremony, performed in bold and masterful, yet genteel and tender motions, by a matriarch and her assistants.  These ladies, all of mature years, were still breathtakingly beautiful, dressed immaculately in silk kimono; nubile portraits of blissfully rich dark muted pastel colours, in contrast to those brighter and more garish traditional gowns worn by younger girls in the many parks and gardens. 

Then we would be introduced to the living arts of origami, bonsai and washi paper making, and would be fascinated by the Japanese eye for detail, their saintly patience, and a culture which appears to inherently abstain from dropping litter or from contaminating the world around it.

Yet it seemed we had missed the one thing that overpowers this nation, once a year in springtime, when young and old alike gather in harmonious "hanami", and picnic beneath pink and white billowing clouds of full blossom, taking delight in mother nature's annual floral flattery of loveliness; a tradition that some suggest dates back to the third century.  After all,  the blossom moves northwards over several weeks in a "sakura zensen" and here we were at the northernmost tip of our travel trail.  

But we had underestimated nature's deviations, a Pandora's box of wonderful surprises, whereby the northern march of the bloom is either advanced or delayed by sub-climatic variations in temperature and exposure.

And so, with little remnant expectation, our spirits were suddenly lifted when a trip to Tokyo's Hamarikyu Gardens, on our second day, revealed tree after tree of near full blossom.  The magic had materialised!

We were not alone in our captivation, being surrounded by jostles of Japan's locals, some dressed for the day in hired colourful kimonos, like these three shy young beauties above; others engaged in their iPad photo toys, like the lovely lass below, lost in a procrastination of concentration, while her companion drifts into blissful appreciation.

But better still was yet to come, for we would later travel to the interior, high up to the north of the majestic Fuji-san, and again, without warning or expectation, encounter a lakeside treat of gorgeous full bloom.  Here, in historic Matsumoto, Mother Nature forgave us our doubts and pessimisms, as our eyes feasted on a lakeside floral festival.  This ancient castle setting, with its impressive still-water moat surrounds, was festooned with cherry blossom trees.  Here we saw tribes of tourists, both local and foreign, and gaggles of gloating snapping sharp shooters, all forensically framing that perfect shot, surrounded by, or encompassing, spring's annual colourful bonus. 

Here we, the outspoken and clumsily plodding overseas visitors, partied with charming and so characteristically pleasant, polite and petite local visitors, all of us visibly jaws agape, and with appreciative smiles permanently planted on our sun kissed faces.

Then we came upon a class of young school children, corralled by their patient teachers in a sea of fallen bloom, calmed by their surroundings as they quietly ate their lunch.

And this was just the beginning of our Japanese journey of wonder and escape, counting our blessings as we travelled in a strangely alien yet wonderfully welcoming world of bliss, living in the moment and free from the shackles of domestic chores, expectant clients, and gruelling performance indicators.

If this is the the Garden of Eden, then let me walk here for a lifetime or two.

"If I were asked to explain the Japanese spirit, I would say it is wild cherry blossoms glowing in the morning sun!"
-  Motoori Norinaga (1730-1801), nativist thinker and poet

But cherry blossom, and its colourful cousin, plum blossom, is hardly unique to Japan. A world-wide phenomenon, found in many countries, including my adopted Australia, why is the sakura so comprehensively worshipped by this Nipponese nation; and why has the cherry blossom become such a classic emblem of Japan, arguably more so than the koi fish, dragon or tiger?

Can it be because of the following: 

• there are reportedly well over 200 varieties of sakura in Japan?
• the centuries old custom, initially adopted by the Imperial Court, then the Samurai, and eventually the common people, of picnicking beneath this short-lived seasonal cloud of colour?
• the fact that the fiscal and school year both begin in April, with most schools and public buildings being adorned by sakura around their perimeter?

It's a reminder that life is almost overwhelmingly beautiful but that it is also tragically short.
Homaro Cantu

When not researching the weird or the wonderful, the comical or the cultured, the sinful or the serious, I chase my creative side, the results of which can be seen as selected photographs of my travels on my website at:

http://ken-boddie.squarespace.com

The author of the above, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.

Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.