A meizanologist's diary (77)

7 April: “Today we will commit hanami,” says the Sensei. OK, maybe not her actual words, but that’s the gist. Borne on a warm south wind, the cherry blossom front has rolled into our city; hanami will not be denied. Don’t get me wrong: I’m all for cherry blossoms. After all, there’d be no little cherry trees without them. It's just the in-your-face evanescence that's vaguely unsettling. Couldn’t they last a bit longer? Or just get it over quicker?

Ineluctably, we find ourselves cycling across the city. Some kiloparsecs from home – it must be the hottest day of the year so far – we reach a distant river embankment. So distant that few people are about, although one family is already setting out a picnic under the trees. Not a single petal falls; we’re at peak hana.

This is an avenue of recently planted young trees – except for the pair at the end of the row, which were apparently rescued from somewhere else. Wizened and crooked, the two old trees lean towards each other like an elderly couple. Perhaps a young couple took their first kiss under them, suggests the Sensei. Not impossible, I reply, unsure where this exchange will lead.

We cycle back along the river, starting up a flurry of bank martins. Early summer is upon us, even if a sun halo overhead hints that the fine weather won't last. Closing on the town centre, we hit the core hanami scene. Citizens of all ages stroll under the luminous billows, their conversation hushed. Meanwhile, the scent of searing squid-on-stick wafts up from the temporary alleyway of booths set up on the river bank below. Still not a petal falls. 

On the way home, the streets are deserted: everybody is out appreciating the cherry trees. By chance, we pass a small temple. It advertises itself as a branch temple of the famous local “main mountain”. An open gate welcomes us into a courtyard filled with sunlight and a graciously spreading shidare-zakura. Nobody is about, and with every breath of wind, petals come scattering down from on high.

All too soon it’s time to board the train for KIX. The cherries bloom all the way down Lake Biwa. Dusk starts to fall as the Haruka slides through the badlands of southern Osaka. There’s one last glimpse of an empty playground, a dusty rectangle walled in by concrete blocks, and guarded left and right by two cherry trees in full flower, as if by a duo of Deva kings. For a moment I think I'm starting to understand hanami, and then the show is over for another year ....