Miles from Home

February came and went. All of a sudden, it feels less like winter and more like spring. Spring is a special time in Japan, especially if you don’t suffer from hay-fever like the majority of the Japanese population. I distinctively remember needing allergy medication every spring, but after being away from Japan for nearly nine years, my system seems to have rest.

Recently, I went to go see the plum blossom blooming at the park near my apartment. I hadn’t realized this area had been famous for its plum trees since ancient times.

The park sits on a hill, overlooking the city all the way down to the waters on a clear day. I had to hike up to reach it, but the thought of seeing the blossoms put a little pep into my step.

At the top, I noticed an elderly couple sitting quietly on a bench, taking in the blossoms as if savoring a secret only they knew. Near by, three tiny munchkin cats trotted on leashes, their tiny legs moving like little metronomes, chasing fallen petals as their owner tried to get beauty shots of them.

I knew plum blossoms came in the traditional red and white, but I didn’t realize how many variations there were. Some white blossoms carry whispers of pink. Others look almost dipped in green. There were deep reds and hot pinks, marbled petals, and even trees bearing two different colors of blossoms at once.

It was an absolute a joy to the eyes.

They smell sweet and tart, like a faint veil of plum drifting through the crisp mountain air.

In Japan, plum blossoms are a quiet signal that winter is ending and spring is on its way, and that alone is enough to put a smile on my face. It is a shame they’re often overshadowed by cherry blossoms, but I can hardly blame anyone. After all, cherry blossoms are icons of spring, while plum blossoms quietly whisper spring’s arrival to the songs of early birds.