Cherry Blossom Fever

We got in the car, all ready to go, car running and everything, when: CANCELED—the Cherry Blossom festival at Red Wing Park was officially canceled because of the rain. 

We went anyway. The Japanese garden and yoshino cherry tree promenade were perfect. We had a lovely day! Then we went home and watched Lady and the Tramp. 

Last year we seemed to miss the peak blooms in Norfolk because we were in DC and vice versa. This year we caught them both. It is hard to explain why this feels so important. 

The symbolism of cherry blossoms—the impermanence and mortality of life, appreciating temporary blessings during their brief lifespan, etc—really resonates with me during this phase of life. The fleeting sweetness of the kids being so little, Chris being gone, the short time we have in any duty station…I want to be thankful for the time we have. It’s so easy to wish it away for the next season. And by next week, the petals will be gone and the branches will support fresh green leaves. If I am busy wishing for leaves, I miss the blossoms.  

This post is disjointed. Blame it on cherry blossom fever. 

Isaac is so silly. He thought his muddy hand was hilarious. Both kids got a bath before bed of course. 

I don’t mean to sound snobby, but cherry trees surpass Bradford pears in every way: bark-petal contrast, blossom color and shape, overall tree shape and fullness…I say no contest.