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The Cherry-Blossoms in Japan
The season of cherry-blossom in Vancouver is over heralding the approaching high-spring. The blossoms added to the scenic beauty of the ever-green city, but did not call up my nostalgia for Japan. They looked slightly strange. Belonging to the familiar species in Japan, they visited and left Vancouver in a different manner.
Different surrounding landscapes may be a plausible reason. However, it seems to me that the most distinctive is in the manner of ending their lives. The blossoms in Vancouver remained fairly long on the branches and faded into pale color, mismatched with young leaves. In the least windy city, we enjoyed an even calmer Indian summer in April, which began and ended like a lamb. In Japan they fall from their branches with a storm in spring, before the tree begins to drink spring rain and to be luxuriant with green leaves.
The Japanese people’s attachment to the blossom is well-known. It is their favorite subject in art and literature, and highly regarded as the national flower. Why does it attract the Japanese so much? Lovely, it is surpassed by many other flowers. While a cluster of cherry-blossoms deserves to be ranked highly, it never threatens to rival a piece of rose in form and color even according to the authentic Japanese canon of floral beauty. So we cannot account for their attachment to the blossoms because of the visual beauty alone. The Japanese way of appreciating a flower is different from the Western way and characterized as literary. “Don’t appreciate a flower only in full bloom.” is a maxim accepted among not only amateurs but ordinary people and is representative of the Japanese exquisite beauty-consciousness. Such a feeling especially for the cherry-blossoms would provide a clue to finding the mental attitude unique of the Japanese.
They even appreciate falling blooms. Their taste for ephemeral beauty underlies this attitude. Short-life is essential for exalting beauty to its supremacy. Typical of this kind of beauty, fireworks lose their brilliant light in a moment and hence are beautiful. Otherwise, they are no more than a blaze of neon signs downtown. For the Japanese, the cherry-blossoms should not be long-lived but fall quickly. Blessed with seasonal varieties in landscape, they are happy to find an eternal life in anything ephemeral and evanescent.
Let’s look at a Japanese favorite scene. There is a hill, covered with a dense forest, which sprawls over the central part of an old city. In the mist of a morning, only the masonry of a mossy stone-fence that reflects on the water betrays a history of the city. This is an old castle surrounded with its moat, the origin of which is traced back to the age of shogunate Japan. Early in the morning, some petals of the cherry-blossoms begin to fall and slip into the mist. As soon as the sun sweeps away the mist, the old castle looms with its keep silhouetting against the blue sky. Fretted with petals, the moat mirrors cherry-trees on the rampart yielding to a blast of wind. The petals on the water form a cleanly beautiful pattern varying with a capricious breeze. When a spring storm visits, it whirls up petals high in the air and fiercely blows them against a passerby’s face. They are snow flakes dancing in the bright spring. The splendor of breathtaking beauty is what the Japanese people eagerly await every year. The moat have been fully carpeted with pinkish white petals until the eastern part of the city is overshadowed by the castle.
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