Cherry Blossoms, Ing hwa

I have fond memories of the weeping cherry tree in our front yard transforming from deep pink buds to pale white petals raining down into the fresh shoots of spring grass. Last spring in Taipei was my first remembered spring without cherry blossoms.  I’d originally intended to visit Kyoto this weekend for the Cherry Blossom Festival where people picnic under the cherry trees.  Cherry blossoms are special in Japan because they embody the transience of mono no aware— a delight that holds a note of sorrow, because we know that it will pass all too quickly.

Visiting cherry blossoms in the misty mountains of Alishan was the chance to see their blush delicately intermingled with the forest of trees around them.

The deep pink of this particular kind of cherry tree I’d never seen before.

The kind that I’m more accustomed to is paler– and most of those were still in bud, though a few managed to bloom.

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Though it was still early in the season, some cherry blossoms and petals managed to slip down and nestle in the grass.

Happy Spring!