Sakura — Noticing More

Why is this Super Ordinary?

We tend to overlook the beauty at our feet in favour of the blossoms in full bloom overhead. Even in decay, there is a kind of beauty involved in these petals. Once petals start to fall - they are regarded with tinges of sadness before they are seen as a nuisance and quickly swept away by locals.

Sakura season was a weird one this year, and it taught me many things about Japan.

One lesson was how difficult it is for Japanese people to keep away from gathering in groups to sit beneath the bellowing pink blossoms regardless of the COVID-19 threats.

The other thing that I learned was more about myself. As much as I adore gazing up at the efflorescent clouds of pink, I also enjoy the pools of patterns made by the fallen petals. Floating on water, strewn across pavements, pooling in gutters and filling in cracks on the roads. Battered and bruised as they often are, they are an alluring curious kind of confetti.

Picture this. A neighbourhood greengrocer pumping out hip hop beats filtered through angry cuss words. Grannies and mums picking their daily fruit and veg oblivious to the profanities. On the opposite side of the road is a tiny local train station with a patch of a platform that leads directly onto the street. No ticket gates required here.

A single blossom tree stands beside the station with its branches pressing blossoms against the frosted panel of the glass. The blossoms peering through become station art. Unlike any painting, it’s impermanent, fleeting, shifting with the weather and the sunlight. I revisited the station a couple of days later, the sun was out, many blossoms had shed their petals and that same panel looked quite luminous.

There are so many different species of cherry blossoms here in Japan. The one in the scenario above is Kawazu-zakura. It’s an early blooming variety. One of my favourites because it’s so radiant whilst the other sakura trees in my area are still dormant.