My Spring Cherry Blossom Stories - Falling Gently

Until next year, sakura season

I can’t believe we’re halfway through May, the cherry blossom season feels like a decade ago with the way the world is speeding through chaos and atrocities. The gentle pink reprieve was but a hint of hope in the horizon in the past.

We’re well over the cherry blossom season here in Seattle, but I need to give this topic a proper closure (you can read part 1 and part 2 here). This season started as busy as it ended, as I packed up for my trip to Houston for another stationery adventure. The peak of the cherry blossoms was also followed by a few days of rain, which ensured the stripping of most of the trees, taking all the soft blooms to the ground.

I sneaked away one lunchtime to survey my favorite street again, taking Cookie for another walk as I admired the pink tunnel created by the canopy of cherry blossoms lining the streets. In this phase of the season, one can experience what’s called the 桜吹雪 (Hana-fubuki), or a flurry of petal storms. By this time, the flowers are fully extended from the stem and begin to weaken, making a gentle breeze just enough force to take them off the tree. The petals fell away one by one, creating the illusion of a snowstorm, but made of pink petals.

Cookie and his new outfit.

The cement pavement is dotted with specks of pink, the best kind of litter. This is also the most annoying phase for cars who unwittingly are still parked under the trees, these little petals seemed to melt and stick onto glass panes, making them hard to remove once wet.

Cookie and I enjoy the quiet reprieve from crowds at our favorite street, the tourists have had their fill and now the beautiful neighborhoods belong to the locals again.

The sun only came out after the rain had blown most of the cherry blossoms to the ground, ironically. The sun filtering through the flower-tipped crowns made the whole street take on a pink filter, like rose-colored glasses.

I marveled at the beauty of these daily moments, so serene and so pretty. Yet, at the same time, I’m struggling and feeling frustrated with what’s going on around the world — feeling all the injustice, outrage, and helplessness. I think I balanced all these emotion out on my pages, where I filled it with pretty things, but still feeling the need to share my angry thoughts.

It was a week since the peak of the cherry blossoms in most of Seattle, at least for the Yoshino variety. I was out and about on an errand when I spontaenously decided to visit the row of cherry blossom trees by Sunset Hill Park. This street’s cherry blossoms bloomed the latest of all the pods, and I was hoping for a glimpse of more petal storm.

The ground is dry and the sun is out. I was surprised to come across to the final stage of a cherry blossom season — the pink carpets made out of fallen petals that covered the ground. These piles were brushed to the side of the street, perfectly fluffy and soft.

I felt the urge to scoop up a handful and throw them into the air, like a giddy kid who are enjoying a snow day from school. I also love seeing the way the sidewalk grass peeked through the pink petals, the dotted tapestry of nature from above and below.

This moment desperately calls for a picnic, yet I couldn’t stay for too long. It was bittersweet to see all the cherry blossoms on the ground (the tree branches have retained just the brown stems). However, I have to remind myself that seasons and cyclical and I will get to experience this all over again next year. For how extravagantly they grew, they subside just as dramatically.

Of course, the viral Trader Joe’s spring mini tote has to make an appearance.

In the past, I have taken them for granted, but this year, I admire the cherry blossom season from the beginning to the end, through and thoroughly. It may have been because of the despair from following politics that made me cling on to any pinch of hope and comfort, something that tells me that there is still good in the world.

Despite humans exhibiting their worst side of greed, brutality, apathy, and hate, nature continues on its course as it had for millions of years. I do worry that decades down the road, even this bit of pleasure will be taken away from us because of climate change, but I’ll save that sad thought for another day.

Mimicking the end of the cherry blossom, I have also developed a similar resolve in my personal life. In an attempt to reclaim my creative energy and agency, I’ve decided to not utilize social media (specifically Meta) as much when it comes to sharing stationery, a topic that is still my passion and dear to my heart. It just feels wrong, to continue on that platform when their value no longer aligns with mine.

Furthermore, we’re often at the whims of the mysterious algorithm, while I only want to reach and share my stories with people whose intent aligns with me. I’m also privileged to enjoy stationery as a hobby. Since my account isn’t tied to any monetization, I’m happy to bid adieu to Instagram and no longer share my spreads or stationery journey there. A year ago, I would have felt daunted about this prospect, but when I really made the resolve to close this chapter of my creative journey, it only feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulder.

What this means that I’ll continue to share my stationery stories here on Substack, for however long this lasts (please don’t turn evil, Substack). I’ll write about my whims as usual, coupled with some deep dives into my journal pages. Let’s see, the world is my osyter here.