Cherry Blossoms

There’s nothing quite like cherry blossoms. First, they remind me of a subtle treat. They’re called cherry blossoms, but they do not produce fruit, though the flowers and even the leaves are used as culinary ingredients in Japanese food.

It is rather the visual attractiveness of the blossoms, their exquisite delicacy, their startling appearance, and especially their quick disappearance, that make them so much like a child’s favorite treat.

They suddenly burst forth like popcorn.

And they rapidly fill the sky.

Light and fluffy,

Like cotton candy.

Passing, like a cloud. Like childhood.

Surreal. Like a dream.

This year’s cherry blossoms inspired me to make green tea frosting. One teaspoon of Matcha added to neutral or vanilla frosting, and you get two in one: tea and dessert!

Cherry blossom trees seem to extend one to another, like good friends. The friendship began in 1912, when Japan gifted 3,020 cherry blossom trees to the United States.

An unclear, hazy friendship that was spoiled during World War II.

A time when, in the land of green tea, soldiers lined up to die.

They were ordered to scatter, like cherry blossoms on land. Or from above, in airplanes. Kamikaze airplanes with cherry blossoms painted on their side.

The falling petals were seen as the sacrifice of youth for the homeland.

The new flowers, the reincarnated souls of dead soldiers.

Today, cherry blossoms look like a haven from all enemies.

People of all kinds and from all corners of a troubled world wander under the blossoms. And for a very short time, they allow themselves to see “life in pink”.