I don’t know what species they are, but every year, several trees in our compound light up with white blossoms. It always reminds me of sakura season in Japan. The trees are just gorgeous, and so all it takes to make me smile is to leave the house and walk past them.
The only catch? The whole event lasts but a week, maybe two. After that, the blossoms turn brown, the trees grow their leaves, and the cycle starts anew. That’s 50 weeks of waiting for a few days of the ultimate spring experience. It’s strange, imbalanced, and almost makes the whole thing regrettable—almost. Because actually, its ephemerality is also part of its charm.
There’s a tragic urgency to looking at the trees when they’re blooming. You know every time could be the last. “Wow, what beauty! Too bad it can’t last a little longer.” Nostalgia and joy, inextricably baked together.
There’s plenty of nature to gaze upon year round—but when you get white trees for a week, cherish them while you can.