Cherry blossom season is in full swing and it’s all the poets claim for it and more. For one thing, cherry trees require warm weather to bloom, and after two months of wishful spring festivals, this celebration marks the real thing.
For another, the sheer profusion of tiny paper-thin petals with sunlight upon them or shining through them expresses more exuberance than all the Christmas lights in the world. They line rivers and streets as far as you can see. Up close, each tree has its own dramatic shape and sports its own subtle shades of pink and white making you gasp at its beauty.
The drama is enhanced by the contrasting colors of other things blooming nearby—maples in earthy yellow and orange, nejiki (I don’t know the translation) in electric purples from pale lavender to deep violet—and the sweet potent fragrance of spiraea.
And when, far too soon, the blooms pass maturity, each gentle breeze generates a small snowfall, slow, soft, silent and startling.
No wonder everyone takes off from work to sing and get tiddly under the trees. We’ve done it several times ourselves.
0 件のコメント:
コメントを投稿